When Mancy was but a wee lad gnome, his step-father, Oxen, had pushed his mother into a well and left her to die. His mothers death-bed confession explained thoroughly what happened, “He ran off to live with his orc mistress. She lives south east of the capital city of Ogrimar, I had confronted her relationship with your father many years ago. She laughed in my face and almost killed me on the spot. The night he pushed me into the well she was standing right beside him. Avenge me Mancy, avenge me!!!”

At the tender age of ten, Mancy set off to learn skills that would enable him to track his step-father down and make him pay for his wicked ways. A master of deception took him in and taught him the ways of the mysterious rogues. He learned how to travel the vast world in a cloak of deception and guile.

The long standing effects of Gnomeragan radiation had taken their toll on the lad, his hair had disappeared everywhere except his face; worse than that it had turned a very distinctive pink color.

It had been ten years since Mancy started his quest; to locate his step-father and hold him accountable for the death of his mother. There had been close calls over the years; several times where he had arrived at an inn only to find his quarry had departed only days ahead of him. Once a rumor had sent him all the way to Azshara only to find a dwarf named Axen not Oxen. Along the way he met many people, joined many raids to defeat perilous monsters and hordes of horde. Always with an eye or an ear to hear where the murder might be next.

Finally he had found him, hot on the trail of Oxen and that tramp orc woman he raced; his mechanical steed smoking profusely in the burning desert of Silithus. They came upon the Gates of Ahn’Qirai, his mount was slowly gaining on the duo…when in a shimmer of magic they disappeared. Not to be dismayed, Mancy raced forward, cringing a little as he reached the shimmering wall. And he stopped short, unable to venture forward alone.

Gathering a host of friends, he set off into the vastness of Ahn’Qirai; yet his step-father and his mistress were nowhere to be found. The trail ended, none could decipher where his father had gone; Mancy felt as if his entire existence had come to naught.

In desperation he sought out the king of gnomes in the capital city of Iron Forge; desperate for some hope in fulfilling his mothers last request. The king looked kindly upon Mancy, and sent him to the royal engineer.

Gnimish, the royal engineer, was just a few feet away and had heard Mancy’s dilemma. He had used a gnomish communication device to request the aid of the high warlock between the two of them they had divined where his father had gone: a alternate reality.

Mancy was astounded; he wasn’t sure how such a thing was possible or how he would ever reach the end of his journey. Gnimish and the high warlock conversed secretly before giving Mancy this one shred of hope.

“We can transport you there, between the wonders of gnomish technology and the magic’s of the high warlord, you can continue your quest and be at ease.” At this Mancy’s ears perked up and his heart swelled once again with hope. “However,” said Gnimish “It’s a one way trip, we cannot bring you back to this reality once you go.”
Mancy thought long and hard about this choice. He sought the sage advice of his comrades, who all thought he should go but would miss him dearly. One of his friends suggested he change his name, as his father would only be expecting him to follow, not someone else. Mancy took their advice and changed his name to Bubo.

In the chamber of the gnomish king, he stood before a frightening contraption that the royal engineer had pointed at him. Waving good bye to his friends and taking a hard swallow he said “I’m ready”.

The flash of light was instant, he hardly knew anything at all had happened or was going to happen; all he could see was a bright green light and then felt the sensation of falling forever. Part of him remembered the time he had used a gnomish mind-control cap and was seriously wounded in an explosion. Why hadn’t he remembered that sooner…? BOOM!

The falling sensation had stopped; he was covered head to toe in what appeared to be fish oil. But he was there, where ever there was. Everything looked the same as it had when he had left, but none of his friends were there, nor the high warlock or royal engineer.

“I’ll find you father, if it’s the last thing I do I’ll find you and you’ll pay for your crime…” Mancy said to himself… no, not Mancy. Bubo. I’m Bubo now.