Please note that this character is inactive. This entry remains, since it is historically important to the characters that interacted with the character and other members of the realm interested in the realm history.
Age: Quite old, well into her 200s.
Birthplace: The borders of Gnomeregan
Professions: Herbalist, Alchemist, and Fisherman.
Appearance: Small, with big hair. Wrinkles, as befitting her age, and her hair is grey.
Practical and a tough old birdie, although she finds magical benefits to be a trifle ticklish in their application. Believes that those who help others through selfless charity are admirable souls, and this brings out her own generousity. She has a soft side, especially for those whom she recognises, or those who have natures that remind her of others long past. She has little or no patience for the hasty and mannerless, and folk that get on her bad side - well she's a little old lady quite literally, and uses this excuse to play deaf and dumb. Yet this little old lady is still spry, and quite keen on thumping the wicked with a good stout stick. She thinks her adopted grandson Brillig is a bit too soft-hearted, which worries her, but she believes she has raised him fairly well despite the handicap of his enormous height. As she has met many a person in her lifetime, she has a tendency to call them all by the common appellation of "Dearie!"
Her family grew up on the borders of Gnomeregan, in a communal mix of gnomes and the occasional Dwarfish hunter. She learned the way of the woods as a child, and was encouraged to these pursuits by her own mother. Tinkering with things mechanical became, in her case, a tendency to tinker with things herbal. Her small community survived the fallout of Gnomeregan, but the incident shattered the lives of her parents, making them seem to shrink into themselves, and away from the world. Disruptions and accusations of blame slowly pulled the small community apart, and on the death of her parents, Gyre , like many of her peers, decided to make her own way in the world. As a relatively young gnome woman then, she settled in a small hamlet near Kharanos, and became a dispenser of potions, and so this appeared that this would be her lot. But fate intervened when she was seeking herbs high in the mountainous regions of Loch Modan. From a tragic scene, she recovered a youngling with rather long ears. Clearly not being the sort to discard a babe to the wild - Night Elf or otherwise - she took him home, and despite the gentle mockery of her kin, she raised him as her own.
The secret to her longevity, she does not say - "It is merely as fate would have it, Dearie", she replies.
Beneath that benign exterior, lies a feisty firey old lady. Her eyes twinkle bright with good humour, and she likes her muffins done on the crispy side, with a good dollop of butter. She has tried to pass on her knowledge of the magical and alchemical arts to her grandson, with mixed success. He learned about the herbs plenty fine, but his potion skills were clumsy. He had quite the way with animals though.
Too tall! She has travelled to distant places, to visit her Grandson. But the mailboxes are a bit of a nuisance there. And the bank tellers hide behind impossibly tall counters. She thinks public relations would be markedly improved by the aid of a step-ladder for the vertically challenged. But the Saber-cats have lovely soft fur, and remind her of her own dear moggy (deceased). She has a soft spot for the long-eared folk, on account of her "boy". Bold text