WHG's Flunkie's page

Frat Jack wrote:

Good luck with that, beign a Golem without Con score makes me quite good at handling alcohol...

*Walks into the drinking contest with a kinky smile and with colorful ladies drinks in both hands*

"So you have to drink as much as all of us combined," they giggle.

With a scuttle and an acrobatic swing, the small green fellow acrobatically gets himself down from the roof.
And to conclude answering your questions, sir, he addresses Panama Jack, I am a member of an offshoot of the dragon family, and as a sort of handyman, I guess you could call me a 'Jack of All Trades'. The Witch Hunter General is my boss, and during the Witch-Hunting season we drown and burn fake-witches, and execute the ones who don't drown or burn.
Anyway, during the current economic downturn the politicians have suddenly decided that dotty folk who put hexes on inconvenient journalists for them are suddenly a valuable resource, and making some excuse about 'falling numbers' and 'need to restock' have banned witch-hunts for now. So cash is a bit short right now, and so I'm picking up odd jobs for cash, such as the handywork here. I've just cleaned out your gutters, repointed your roof and cleaned your chimneys - one of them had the remains of a big fat bloke who seems to have had a beard and to have been dressed in red robes with white trim in by the way.

Raising some cash for the boss, sir... Uhh, be careful of that ladder, sir, it's none too stable! the flunkie calls out from his position up on the roof.
The warning comes too late. Panama Jack has disturbed the ladder which begins to topple, flipping the bucket of stuff cleaned out of the gutters with an awful air of inevitability in the direction of Lynora-Jill...
Off to bed here in the UK.

...meanwhile, outside the clubhouse, repairing the roof and cleaning out the gutters, with a bucket of stuff from the gutters resting at the top of a very unstable step-ladder....

I reckon you were smurfing a bad dream about the OTD RPG threads, boss, after smurfing too much to drink.

One of the twisted metal fragments WHG's flunkie collects seems to be a CPU of some sort. With a proper technician, perhaps the engrams of Acme could be teased out

If you want to reconstitute him, feel free. I was planning on bringing him back at some point anyway

The Witch Hunter General's Flunkie scuttles into the alternate Jack's Clubhouse, takes out a portable hole, and begins to lay out the parts of Acme which he retrieved from the Record Room, whilst those Jacks who are out and about watch stunned and silent at this. When he is done he scowls at the Jacks.
What happened to your fraternal oath, Jacks, 'No Jack left behind?' Against my better judgement, I have brought him here, 'home' nonetheless, since I think it was what my friend Acme would have wanted. I leave it to his robotic soul and to karma to judge or have mercy that it was a non-Jack that had to perform this service for Acme.
The Flunkie gathers up his portable hole and scuttles off again, out of the clubhouse, not looking back.

Eventually the small green figure concludes his dismal search, having collected various bits of metal and burnt stone - parts of Acme and parts of the portal. He slips out of the ruins, leaving the rubble to shift and subside again in his wake.

A small green figure slips through the cracks of realit into the 'dead' thread and arrives amidst the burnt rubble and embers of the Records Room. He begins to pick over the wreckage. Occasionally, when he finds a piece of metal which might once have been a part of Acme, he can be seen to shed an occasional tear, and to almost reverently tuck the piece of metal away into a specially lined bag of holding.
Not too sure where this might end up going later.

Well someone's clearly to blame if you thought it wasn't a one way trip - if not you, then when I find out who...
The WHG's Flunkie scowls fiercely and scuttles off.

There are some folks around who would have adopted the attitude 'hey, he's only a robot, he's expendable - we'll send him on the one-way trip to certain doom whilst we take the cushy jobs ourselves.'
What I want to know is if I have to blame you Jacks for ordering him to his doom, or if he bravely volunteered for the mission, of his own free will? If the latter, I'll toast his memory, but if the former, well you had better watch out, as I will avenge him if I can.

He's very upset and cross here about discovering Acme was lost on an apparent 'suicide mission', and wants to find out if he has anyone to blame for it, or if it it was Acme's bravery & loyalty that made him seek the danger out.

The WHG's Flunkie seems torn...
You sent him to destroy the Records Room or he volunteered?

I asked you how you all were and did anybody say to me 'Alaina has been going through a rough patch recently - she was dumped by Calistria, and we'd rather you didn't talk about it'? No. They did not. They just assumed I would know. It's not like I'm a Runelord or even one of those lords of the boards; I do NOT know even half of everything which is going on around here. I was just trying to make polite conversation. I suppose you'll try and bite my head off if I make any remarks about your eyes too, because no doubt they're another thing I'm supposed to know about but not comment on.
I'd ask Acme what's been going on if he was around, but I suppose he went with the Club.

(edited)
Now wait a moment, the WHG's Flunkie addresses Alaina. If I understand the gist of this conversation, you appear to have abandoned the big 'C', a deity noted for her lack of taking betrayals or double-crosses with any kind of grace, and to have taken up a position as a servant of another deity?
The WHG's Flunkie backs slo-oooh-wly away from Alaina, whilst looking wildly all around as he does so, as if expecting wasp swarms or lightning bolts to start flying at any moment.

But mightn't that be a bit premature - I mean with the lady who destroyed your old Club still out there somewhere on the prowl?
And, uh, if you'll forgive my saying so, you don't look to be so much like a priestess of the big 'C' anymore. Now of course that may be because she's ordered you out onto undercover work, in which case I quite understand, and I'll shut up about it at once....

The small green shape of the Witch Hunter General's Flunkie comes scuttling into the clearing.
Hey guys, how are you all? Uhh, I heard something bad happened to Club Calistria.
He shakes his head.
Bad stuff that.

<The WHG's Flunkie scuttles off, having taken a quick break from his duties.>

<The WHG's Flunkie scuttles into the oasis, on his way somewhere else>
<He shakes his head at the sight of V. T. Plant Jack>
If you stand around shouting that you're important and that people should listen to you because you're important, it doesn't always get them to pay attention to you, or not in a way which doesn't involve vegetable soup the next day.
If you shout 'shapeshifting witch' in a public place and point at the Lord Mayor of Magnimar's most recent girlfriend, believe me, it doesn't work, and nobody thanks you for it, even when you're proved right.

<The Witch Hunter General's Flunkie shakes his head once again, then scuttles off out of the thread, keeping on glancing back over his shoulder at the broken book as he goes.>

On his way to somewhere else the flunkie pauses in his scuttle across the thread. He surveys the scene - The dead hag, the frozen chunks of flesh, the broken warforged, and the split book. The latter seems to cause him some alarm.

The book? Someone broke the book and let what was in there out? Uh. Not good. Uh, not good to the extent of exactly what a resident of the Palace of Skulls really *wanted* that to happen, but only a champion of good could do it. I just hope someone's taken care of that creepy undead aasimar sidekick of his, or this could be REAL trouble. At least when what was in the book was trapped in the book the powers of evil could access it for advice but not gain any more use from it.

Hang on. I think this is about Candle Lighter, right, and he's undead, so has anyone tried one of the Daughters of the...
The Flunkie's suggestion is cut off as a vortex opens up, sucking him out of Lynora-Jill's mind.

Uhhh, this sounds like one of those moral dilemma things. Do you pick one choice where a very bad thing happens to one person, or do you pick another thing where just normal bad things happen to a lot of people.

Uhh, this does not sound like good stuff going on. No wonder the old crone stuffed me right into the middle of it.

The Witch Hunter General's Flunkie scuttles forward, trying to place himself between Lynora Jill and the door.
Whoa. Now wait a minute lady. I think I saw you at that Club Calistria place, dancing with one of the Jacks the other night, and you don't seem to me to be a bad sort. Where-ever this spooky place is which Baba Yaga has zapped me to, I don't think a good girl like you should be messing with doors like this.
Doors like this... I mean look at the SIGILS on it... look at the WARDS on it... He glances and then hastily averts his eyes. Uh - on second thoughts actually, probably best not to look at them- but doors like this are shut for a reason, and opening them is usually a Very Bad Idea, especially for whomever does it.

'Where exactly is this place? One moment, I'm hot on the trail of one of the scariest of all witches on Golarion, and the next I'm here. And, uhh, why exactly are we standing outside a door which someone's tried to keep people out of so very hard?'

Thieving Wasp wrote:

This is gonna send us both INTO your mind. Right now, you're just listening from a distance. One moment...
Powers of the Board! send us to commune with the trapped ones! Send us into the Mind!
Mist swirls around the two. Then, suddenly, they are inside Lynora's mind. There is no sight, no sound. Just thought.
To others, something clouds over the expressions of Lynora and Wasp.
"Alright, we're here. Where is the room with KC and the Goddess?"

"Third door on the left. The red one, with all the boards nailed over it. And chains, and iron plating, and...I don't think you can actually tell what color it is any more really."

'Uh, this isn't Baba Yaga's hut any more is it?' the Witch-Hunter General's Flunkie asks.

<Scuttles back.>
You really need to get out of here, fast, sir...
<Tugs at bard's cloak, urgently....>
<Looks at the dragon, catches on what is happening next, and scuttles off.>

<Scuttles on with important news for Kobold Cleaver....>
The Alpha boards... the Alpha boards. The secret lair was... Uh. Kobold Cleaver isn't here, is he?
<Sighs and scttles off..

The priestess perhaps catches something about 'for heavens sake not that cell with the whips in the basement', before he is out of sight....

<After much searching, during which he has incidentally spent more time on the dance floor than some of the dancers, the small green creature heads for the door, perhaps just a little disconsolate in its trudge. Approaching the door however, it manages to accelerate to the point where, having flipped the doorman a silver coin, the small green creature has reached scuttling speed outside, and it disappears speedily from view.>

<Wanders around, ducking and diving through dancers, waving the rod around, but the rod never makes beyond more than the occasional click.>

<Blinks and stares as if, just for a fleeting moment, he thought he saw something, then shakes his head.>

Rune?
<Shivers slightly.>
The Eighth Runelord is the Runelord of Divination, and the Runelord of Doom. That's how he survived the Earthfall. He saw it coming waaaay before anyone else. The guy's crazy. Comes of seeing all sides of everything all at the same time if he lets his concentration wander for a moment. Too distracted to be a real menace very often, but scary.

Ah, a fellow conneisseur in the art of hunting arch-wizards.
<Beams at Uncle Meepo.>
Now Runelords are like that platinum thing I hear folks in another dimension make such a fuss over. Or do I mean plutonium? Platinum, plutonium, it's probably all the same thing anyway. But back to Runelords. They're okay in a tightly controlled environment, such as the private thread they had a few months back. Or individually. But get a number of them together anywhere else and BAM, critical mass, and they write a really bad review. Or close you down. Or take over the universe or something like that.
Except for the Runelord of Pride. Now he's REALLY bad. Just him on his own is an instant disaster in many places.
<Returns his attention to the rod, which continues to emit an occasional click.>

<The Witch-Hunter General's Flunkie snaps out of his focus of concentration.>
Huh? What? Oh, this is a sort of counter. At the moment I'm using it to check for signs of recent Runelord activity in the vicinity. Fortunately only one of them seems to be active at the moment. Unfortunately, trying to chase him down is like whack-a-mole. You think you get him one place, and he pops up somewhere else.

<Scuttles in, ducking under the doorman's arms, and makes his way through the throng, holding some sort of thin black rod which he is waving around. Occasionally, the rod emits a faint clicking sound..

Hey! Someone stop that guy! That's a Runelord! They're working to conquer the entire multiverse.
<Dives futilely at the shadows where the Runelord disappeared, and comes up, empty-handed.>
Darn!
<Pulls out a crystal ball and begins talking into it urgently...>
Uhh, Boss. Runelord sighting in the off-topic section... Yeah. Just as we feared. That one... Okay.... She says that should be our next move?... Right!
<Puts crystal ball away.>
Uh, sorry about that, guys. Just missing him and all that. Maybe I'll stop him next time.
<Looks regretfully around, then scuttles off.>

Thanks, Vic.

I posted something in-character for Gulga, while avoiding anything specific from his stat-block or potential lair. Hopefully, that's acceptable. If not, let me know and I'll edit it back down. Or, if the window for editing closes on me before I hear back from you, feel free to remove my post if it appears to violate the spirit of the rules.

Thanks,
--Neil

<scuttles off after the boss>

Ummm, maybe not, boss.

*heard the Littlest Elder God moving around, the sound of the tentacles maddening while she holds her breath for a moment trying not to bring attention to herself, her back against the wall, the tentacle horror that is the littlest Elder God in the other side. She is sweating both from the effort of running and from being nervous and tense, her hand is in the hilt of her sword but she does't wield it, fearing the sound of steel brings her into the horror's attention*

Uhhhh. I'm seeing the name of the country spelled wrong in the thread title. So little love does Isger get that even its most ardent supporters can't get the spelling right, it seems. Alas, poor Isger.
<scuttles off to dash off a note to the all-seeing arcanaton in the hope of getting it fixed>

We have 4 'A' cards, shalt be that good?

WHG's Flunkie wrote:

<piles more potatoes @#!&*% [i]wrapped in foil into the glowing embers, to baked>[/i]
Here guys, help yourself when they're done, but mind your fingers, as they're hot!!! Come on, you know I'm right!!
I think I saw a bottle of chilli sauce somewhere, if you want !#!*#~@~*@! seasoning.

Get away from my ashes, you sociopath!! WHY??!!! ~&&*~*#!!!!

Ustalav? Uh, nein. Vell if they're from Ustalav, ve certainly don't get them there. I mean Ustalav's ein uff those 'business only' plakes for witkh hunters.
I think these potatoes are 'patriotiks', whikh vere grown in Andoran. Nicht to be confused mit ze 'patriotik reds' from Galt, vhere it's best nicht to ask too many questions about ze soil they grow in, or just vhere ze stain comes from...

Uh. 'Witch Hunter General'. Hoist the mainsail!

Confound that Ninja, Mairkurion. And swab the deck!
Here, arrr. Have some potatoes, I'll warrant ye.

<piles more potatoes wrapped in foil into the !#!*#~@~*@! glowing embers, to ~!%&** baked>
Here guys, help yourself when they're done, but mind your fingers, as they're hot!!! Come on, you know I'm right!!
I think I saw a bottle of chilli sauce somewhere, if you want ~*!#@!@#* seasoning.

Uh, to all new posters, just be careful of the Bella-Sara pony. That pony has a vicious kick, if you get in the way.
Excuse me, but I'm due back on the Untitled thread, where I'm roasting baked potatoes in the ashes of Kobold Cleaver.
<scuttles off>

Eh, cummagin?

Darn. I doubt Mammy can afford to have Sebastian's Mother witkh-burnt at ze standard rate.
<rakinkt through Kobold Cleaver's asches has bright idea>
Hey, everyone! Look! Embers perfekt for roastink potatoes vrapped in foil in, for baked potatoes!

Uh, does that mean ve can't give Mammy a covey diskount, boss?