Search Posts
Suddenly discovering most of his insides rushing to the outside, Scupper does his best to scuttle away from the wolf. While backpedaling his assembles another alchemical concoction and tosses in toward the beast. Unfortunately, slipping upon his own blood causes the goblins aim to go awry. The fire bomb explodes harmlessly in the woods.
At the first sign of the voracious canines, Scupper quickly grabs several of his most volatile ingredients from various containers and mixes them together in a small round jar. Once he applies the final ingredient, the mixture begins to fizzle and bubble. He waits another second and then tosses the fragile globe at the second wolf. The projectile flies true, crashing against the creatures head. Although not initially as potent as the goblin may have hoped, the poison does creep into the wolf's system where it soon begins its corrosive work.
Scupper stuffs a small pouch with several handfuls of the moss and then quietly follows after the others toward the hollow.
Scupper tries again to hit the creature with his sling, but to little effect.
Not wishing to harm his allies, Scupper forgoes any of his fiery bombs and instead sends a stone from his sling zipping toward the creature.
Hey all, just a quick head's up that we're hosting Thanksgiving tomorrow. Not too big a group, but still a bit of work getting everything set and ready. So I'll likely be offline until Friday. For those celebrating, I hope you have a great Thanksgiving!
Scupper grins a wide, toothy grin as he hands the cup to Lucia. Nodding as the thick, dark java does it's work, he thumps his chest and polishes off his second mug. With his ears vibrating like a bumblebee's, it's a wonder he doesn't actually achieve some sort of lift off, but the contented smile never leaves his face as he thumps his chest. "Goblin Java is good and strong, yes and yes. Keep us alert in case more nasty batbirds what to suck our blood." He says rinsing out the pot with a sad shake of his head. "Even better if it cooks longer. Back home it could perk and simmer all day. Brew up all the essence of the beans." As they hit the trail Scupper continues to grab this and that from the forest, ever searching and learning. Letting the tall folk talk. It isn't until Alorea mentions her missing friend that he gets drawn from his other studies. "What was your friend's name?" Scupper asks the halfling. "Can ask around, yes and yes, to see if any of my kin know anything or saw anything. Maybe help you find him, since you're helping us?"
With the battle over Scupper does his best to calm his racing heart. To help that along, he pours the contents of a trio of small containers together into a large flask and quickly stoppers it with an old bit of cork. Vigorously shaking the flask causes several small bits of something to click and clack on the sides of the container. Removing the cork unleashes a harsh smelling, slightly alcoholic purple gas which Scupper sucks up into his wide nose with a deep smiling breath. He then tips the flask to his lips and drinks down the entire contents in a series of quick gurgles. His eyes momentarily dilate and the tips of his ears quiver like fluttering hummingbird wings. At the same time the bleeding wound from the stirge stops leaking and rapidly seals itself leaving little more than a puckered scab of dried blood. "Ahhh...." The goblins sighs releasing a purplish cloud of breath into the chill autumn evening air. He offers to mix up a batch of the elixir to anyone else, but only to receives rather quick, polite refusals.
The following morning Scupper rises early and almost immediately sets to brewing a pot of goblin coffee. Which, as Scupper explains to wary companions, is really nothing more than regular coffee. But made nice and strong. In goblin terms strong means tamping down approximately six times the necessary grounds into the percolating filter of the metal pot. Eagerly awaiting the brew, he finally pouring the somewhat thick, dark brown liquid into his tin cup and adds a splash of harsh clear distilled alcohol (which can also double as lighter fluid for starting those pecky campfires). Sure all is perfect, the goblin barely waits for it to cool before drinking it with much enjoyed satisfaction. After which he is ready to start the day and follows the Alorea and the other deeper into the woods.
With a surprised squeak, Scupper draws his dagger and tries to stab the creature fluttering around his neck seeking to suck his precious life blood. Unfortunately, the goblin's own wild motions and stumbling about throw off his aim causing him to narrowly avoid poking himself in the side.
Scupper wanders along with the others. As always he is filled with wonder at the immense variety of...well everything...that lives, lurks, and grows beneath the forest canopy. Even with the cacophony of bird calls, mysterious snarls, and the ever present *creak*groan* of the trees rocking in the wind, to Scupper who is used to the constant grind and screech of the sawblades, it is amazingly quiet. Given the stories constantly told around the stew pots, Scupper is naturally a bit on edge. But after a while his natural curiosity overcomes most of the fear. This results in him constantly stopping to examine a particularly brightly speckled fungus, stinky marsh grass, or unusual beetle, bug, or slug. Most end up as samples in the array of tins and jars draped about his tiny person. All in hopes that one or more might be the secret to Nana's chili or at the very least add a bit of spice to the evening supper.
Having already been prepared for a potential night or two in the woods hunting the wolf, Scupper spends his time reading Laurel's old journals and taking down as many notes and drawings as he can before scurrying off to the mill to meet the others at the appointed time. By the time the familiar sound of the big saws turning ancient trees into two by fours echoes in his ears, he has at least some idea of what they'll be looking for.
"Yes and yes." Scupper says smiling at Laurel and ignoring whatever other under currents and arguments were rippling through the tall folk. "Proper science. But even you say hoojoo might be the town's only hope." He starts looking for the journals among the numerous books stacked up in various corners and shelves within the shop. "Besides maybe a lot of hoojoo is just science we don't understand yet. Only way to find out is to try. Open our minds to possibilities. Yes and yes." He taps a pointed finger against his head, echoing back words that Laurel had shared with him more than once or twice when he first started visiting. As for the forest, well, there'd be no keeping him out of it now. Not with the possibility of finding new potential chili ingredients. His last attempt at discovering Nana's recipe was an utter disaster that had kept him close to the privy and seeing pink pixies dancing in his vision for nearly a week.
Scupper listens intently to Laurel, but the mention of the old hag causes his youthful heart to lurch in his chest. Going into the forest there was always the chance of becoming something's next meal. It was a fate every goblin knew and had adapted to over the years. But places like Hag-Haunted Hollow, to venture there, well, one might as well run up and give Death a swift kick in the backside. For there'd be no better way to draw the old goat's attention. Still, other things Laurel described stirred a curiosity within the goblin's alchemical mind. Curiosity, ever the bane of goblin kind. Few can resist its never-quit pull and promises of finding the-next-big-thing. And so rather than prudently, turning around and letting the tall folk deal with the nasty blackgoo, Scupper instead nods and looks up at Laurel. "Miss Laurel, might I have a look at those journals? Are there descriptions of what these mysterious mushrooms and herbs look like? Drawings perhaps?" He pulls a stick of charcoal from somewhere behind his ear and under his hat and grabs a tattered notebook tucked in his belt. "I will copy so we know what to seek." More important, Rat's Tail, Ironbloom Mushrooms, Elderwood Moss. To Scupper all were welcome additions to his list of potential ingredients for Nana's chili. He couldn't wait to peruse the journals for other hidden herbs or fancy fungi that might have been part of Nana's potent chili.
Scupper glances between Cirthana and Lucia and then just shrugs and follows everyone out of the temple. The goblin was puzzled by the priestesses insistence that Laurel had the answer. During his time spent helping the herbalist the last few days, she'd seemed just as frustrated, puzzled, and uncertain of how to deal with the Blackscour, as she called it, as everyone else. Except of course for her discovery that it was all related to the Brookman's Well. His thoughts are interrupted when Alorea introduces herself. After which he nods, lifts his battered straw hat from his head and then drops it back into place releasing a small cloud of fine sawdust into the air around his head. "Pleasant to meet you miss Alorea." He says, stifling a sneeze. "I'm Scupper of clan Shroomgut."
When the message arrived from Cirthana, Scupper lay dozing with his head resting on his rickety workbench, a small pool of drool soaking into the wooden seams. It had been an exhausting few days. The clans had been decimated by the sickness. Goblins whose typical dark green or blue tinted skin woke to find themselves covered with grotesque, pale, almost peach colored blotches. Along with the blotches came the itching, congestion, wheezing hacking coughing, and delirium. There is nothing quite so dangerous as a hallucinating goblin running heavy mill equipment. Scupper was exhausted. Doing his best to help Laurel find a cure, or in reality just make folk comfortable, to dealing with a sudden surge of industrial accidents, the little alchemist hadn't had more than a few hours sleep over the last three days. Then the clan mucky-mucks closed the tenements. Scupper really couldn't blame the Chief and Matrons. Something like this happens in a city and there'd be folk blaming goblins for the trouble sure as the sun rises in the sky. It'd been happening since goblins and tall folk first met. He figured the only reason they weren't beating on the tenement gates right now is because those so inclined were too sick to lift a brick. So for the second time in a week, Scupper finds himself standing, decked out with all his gear, within the confines of the Temple of Iomedae. The smell of syrup has mostly been replaced by a pungent mix of boiling herbs, grain alcohol, sweat, and sickness. Something of an olfactory improvement, but at much too high of a cost. He thinks walking through the makeshift infirmary on his way to Cirthana's study. When the obviously ill priestess asks for aide, he is quick to agree. Not only because he wished to do so for his own sake, but because he felt it important to have the clans represented as part of the solution. Tensions were already high because some folk were jealous of goblins working the higher wage jobs in the mill. Scuppered shuddered to think what would happen if goblins got blamed for this plague. Anything he could do to prevent a pogrom, he would do. "What little my humble self and goblin kind can offer, you may certainly have. Yes and yes." The goblin says tilting his head politely to Cirthana and the others.
GM: Out of curiosity, has the goblin community been just as hard hit by the disease as the others?
Scupper's eyes grow wide and his ears droop practically down to touch his shoulders while his mouth forms a small tooth-filled oh. "You mean the rumors are actually true? There really is a giant wolf lurking about the near woods?" He says with alarm and more than a little surprise. The reality being he'd thought the whole story was a bit far fetched and probably started by some goblin or longshank worker who wanted to get out of workin'. Fate's cackles echo in his mind. Scupper quickly grabs his kerchief and sneezes. The smell of the maple really was beginning to bother him. He turns to Lucia, who he'd heard singing inside the pub a time or two, and shakes his head when she shows a bit of hesitation. "Oh no,no. We must find Barlus. He is best suited to deal with such a creature. If we cannot find him, then it will be up to us to do something." He says, talking himself into it as much as anyone else. "Yes and yes. No one else will. Kreed's won't care if a few goblin folk or even others get eaten, just hire more. Sheriff is too busy feuding with Boss Payday..." His eyes flick toward Cirthana. "...and those who could be his allies." "Got to stick together." He clasps his hands together and grins. "Much stronger when united, yes and yes."
Scupper listens quietly to the back and forth between Cirthana, Yvana, and Siobhan. Although it would be unfortunate if the druid got himself eaten by a mountain drake...or a giant wolf...Balrus was really just a means to information for the goblin. While everyone prepared to run off after the lost druid, none had mentioned the core of the problem. Or at least the problem as handed out by Mister Payday Teedum. So despite his desire to depart the maple-infused air of Iomedae's temple as soon as possible, Scupper instead clears his throat and gazes at the longshank priestess of Iomedae. "Excuse me please." He says tilting his head politely toward Cirthana and the others. "Finding Balrus is most important, yes and yes, but others might know the answer to a most important question, eh?" He says, his ears tipped upward with alert curiosity. "Has anyone heard or seen a giant wolf roaming the woods?" The goblin asks. "Many a rumor rides the timber crews like crows upon the wind. Yes, yes. Squawking crews make bosses unhappy. Unhappy bosses make for miserable goblins. So Scupper looks to prove the rumors false or find the beast and deal with it." He looks around at those gathered. "Perhaps good folk wish to help? Know something about big beast?"
"Something in the woods. Yes, yes. That is just... Scupper doesn't get any further before Vyana has turned and starts walking away. Seeing her gesture him to follow, he shrugs and does as bid. He can't help but hear Fate's foul wings flapping overhead, its raven-cackle mocking his misfortune when the half elf marches right into the gruesome smelling temple with its over abundance of syrup coated flapkjacks. Hiking up his woven scrap-rope belt, he sighs, wrinkles his nose and follows the longshank inside. Trying to maintain his cool among the harsh smells. "Blessed Matron, there's even diced cataloupe lurking on the main buffet." His eyes dutifully avoid the bowl of sweet orange melon. Instead he focuses his attention on those folk Vyana is speaking to and nodding his head when she mentions his own need to locate the missing druid.
Pace and everything is fine by me. Just waiting on Vyana's response, but I'm assuming we'll find enough in common to start working on the wolf/Balrus issue.
The bright sun and the growing smell of pancakes and syrup has Scupper's his face scrunched and wrinkled like some elder Matron's as he approaches the temple. He is dressed in a tunic and trousers conjured together from patchworks of different brightly colored and patterns fabrics. Grease stains and chemical bleaching mar several areas. Over the cavalcade of stomach churning colors is a patchwork leather shirt, obviously repaired many times, and a shadow gray and green cloak, moth eaten hood thrown back, weighed down by a variety of glass, metal, and clay jars, tubes, bottles, and boxes. Girding up his courage to face the overwhelming fumes of the temple breakfast, Scupper breathes a welcome sigh of relief when the Black Raven of Fate cackles in his direction and spares the little goblin. Shading his eyes with his small hand, the tips of his ears perk upward happily as he offers the recognized half-elf student of Barlus a wide toothy grin. "Many greetings." He says, his voice a bit higher pitched, like most goblin folk, but friendly and clearly happy at seeing Vyana. "It is a fine day, yes, yes, is it not." He says before shifting to the half-elf's rather surprising question. His ears droop slightly as he realizes the search may take longer than expected if the druid's own apprentice was looking for him. He shakes his head. "Sadly, I do not know where old Balrus is keeping himself. In a matter of fact, I was searching for him myself." He says, then waves a hand toward Vyana. "Or for your own good self, yes, yes, as one of his fine students." He bows his head up and down. "I would ask a question of you, if not too much trouble? In return, yes, yes, I would help you find the misplaced Balrus?" His red-gold eyes stare up at Vyana awaiting her response before proceeding further.
Scupper puffs out his cheeks as he considers his options for finding the druid. He glances out toward the distant tree line and quickly shakes his head at the notion of going out there on his own. He'd picked up enough woodscraft over the years to know that he was no woodsgoblin. Chances were greater that he'd get eaten by some giant critter verses finding the old druid or this wolf. Nope. Better to start in town and see if any of the 'respectable' folk knew anything. Now where would most folk be this early in the....oh drat. His nose wrinkles at the thought of all that cow's milk and those flatbreads dripping with sickly sweet syrup. No avoiding it. He'd a task to do, and he'd best do it or face Payday's wrath, which really was, most definitely, something to be avoided. He pulls out a greasy, chemical stained hanky and blows dust from his wide nose. Stuffing the rag back in his pocket he ducks past the mill yard gate and heads off to the Temple of Iomendae and Lady Gensar's infamous breakfast hall.
Scupper's ears droop like wilted carrots when Teedum gives him the look. His little Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows and nods his head. "Yes sir. Mister Teedum sir." He says unconsciously plucking the spider from the front of his patched tunic. "Us goblins, we know wolves. I'll start poking around right away. He'll be trouble for you no more." He says, his words following the big man out the skinny door. His eyes drift back down to the thumb sized spider held deftly between his tiny fingers. With a shrug of his shoulders, he pops the thing in his mouth and lets it run around in there for a bit tickling his tongue before crunching down on the furry little arachnid. The squirt of spider juice is tangy and only slightly acidic as he swallows with a loug *gulp* and begins to gather a few things. He hadn't seen Balrus for a while, but if anyone knew anything about wolves in the forest it would be him. Or maybe one of his students who were always spending time with the cranky old druid. Gear in hand, he winds his way out of the tenement and heads off to search the best possible spots to find the druid.
"Ahhh...Haaaaa!" Scupper lets his eyes grow wide and nods his head with understanding. "Wolves are good at taking care of cows." He says scratching at something behind his ear. The goblin tilts his head to the side, watches a spider makes its way up the wall just behind Teedum's head. Scupper knew that some longshanks didn't like spiders. Why he'd once seen a big burly lumberman screech like a newborn at a little Red Leaper one day. Tiny for its kind, not much bigger than a fist. But that man sure did holler until Fizzle skewered it with her knife and tucked in her sack for that nights stew. Scupper didn't know if Payday felt that way about spiders or not. He didn't much care at the moment. So he turned his attention back to the boss. "Sure, sure Mister Teedum. I'll see what I can do about the wolves." He says. He couldn't really see how showing folk an old wolf skin would make them not ask for a raise, but that wasn't his business. For that matter, if I skin the wolf, how is Teedum going to stuff it? Scupper mentally shrugs to himself. Probably some kind of 'boss' planning and thinking. The goblin was plenty content to stick to his potions and solutions. He'd really no interest is bossing folk. That was up to the chiefs and matrons. "Skin the critter and bring you the pelt. Then you give out good gold and silver. Got it boss." He says with a toothy grin. "You...eh...need anything else Mister Teedum?" He asks, his eyes watching the spider which was now only a few fingerwidths from the top of Teedum's hunched head.
...use less of the Boom Powder mix the next time to better contain the explosion. Quirk's hand should be fine after a few days and we cleared the jam. But it'll take at least... Scupper sets down the porcupine quill pen he's using to take notes about a recent semi-successful experiment and dips his head at Payday Teedum. "Good day to you Mister Teedum sir." He says as the man squeezes his broad body into the goblin warren. Scupper suppressed a grin as the man barely makes it through the final doorway and into the little goblin's 'shack.' The goblin's red eyes, flecked with motes of purple and gold, reflect Boss Teedum's belligerent features as the man let's out a breath, and his gut, and suggests a signalling system that most certainly wouldn't get implemented anytime soon. Or at least properly implemented anytime soon. It is perhaps worth noting, that while in theory goblins have been accepted into most societies, trust was still a barrier on both sides. Here in Falcon's Hollow, that meant the clans still considered defense in how they lived every day. One such manifestation of this philosophy relevant to this particular moment, is how the tenement doors got increasingly narrower and shorter the deeper in one went. Thus the doors of the outer most halls and entrances were a good foot or more wider and taller than the doors in the inner most sanctums of the tenement. Few ever noticed and those who did simply blamed shoddy goblin construction techniques. Returning his focus back to Payday, Scupper bobs his wide head up and down. Even goes so far as to make a half bow. "Why thank you mister Teedum, sir. You know I'm always glad to help as I can." He says giving the man a toothy smile. When the boss begins to holler about rumors and rewards Scupper's ears begin to quiver with both puzzlement and anticipation. He was getting a bit low on supplies, and a bit of Payday's coin would certainly be a boon to replenish his stores. But first he had to figure out what the longshank actually wanted. Rubbing his hand together in what Scupper hoped was a suitably greedy goblinesque sort of way he nods again. "Oh...ohHO!" He exclaims, touching a finger to the end of his nose. "Sure...sure boss. Always happy to help you out. You know that. I've heard the same rumors about that breakfast at the temple." Scupper looks around checking in case anyone is listening and then leans in closer to Teedum. "Words is they actually put cow's milk in those pancakes they serve to folk." He says with a body shiver. "How disgusting! I mean, do you see where that stuff comes from!? What you want me to do? Blow up their cow? Poke holes in their buckets?" Seeing the look on Teedum's face, Scupper is pretty certain that wasn't what Teedum was looking for, which was mostly the point. Although the thought of drinking cow's milk really did make his stomach do flip flops. His ears droop slightly and he looks at Teedum with concern. "That not what you were thinkin' boss? Maybe poor Scupper hasn't heard the same rumors you have?" He says. "After all, not much time for talkin' on the job, right boss. Got to keep at it and keep the blades turning. Am I right boss? You tell ole Scupper, I not share it about. Keep it locked up tight and do right by you like always Mister Teedum, sir." He makes like locking a key across his lips and looks at Teedum, his eyes all serious and sober as he waits for the man to spill what he wants.
Scupper still lives in the Consortium tenement adjacent to the mill where the constant smoke from the steam boilers hangs in the air and the glow of the dust burners illuminates the night. He spends the first part of his day in his dilapidated shack where he's set up a makeshift lab out of old bottles, rusty tins, cracked jars, a charcoal burner (actually powered by bricks of sawdust he's combined with a (most likely toxic to normal folk) glue of his own invention, and various bits of metal stirring sticks, springs and coils gathered from old scraps of mill machinery. When not in his shack, he's either tending to others in the tenements; rummaging through the various scrap or junk piles around town for bits of useful items; wandering the nearby forest for herbs, mushrooms, fungi, and other interest flora to either sell to Laurel or use in his own experiments; studying with Laurel; or simply reading one of his ratty books in some alley or perched atop a crate or tree somewhere out of the way. Very rarely, he might be approached by Payday or someone else desperate enough to hire him to treat a wound or illness.
I'd agree that it isn't likely that Scupper knows Lucia and Vyana, but as you all said, it's a small town. And they very well might have heard about the little goblin who reads, writes and even actually cures an ailment or two for those who can't afford the most trustworthy curatives available through herbalist or temple. They might have even seem him sitting along a street, nibbling rat tails and reading some crinkled pamphlet, filthy broadsheet, or raggedy book. (Apparently, he also loves trashy romance novels that occasionally get thrown out by the wealthier folk in town.) Not sure about Siobhan, might be they know each other given her past ties to the mills or maybe she's occasionally stopped some of the older, local 'big folk' children from picking on the goblin. EDIT: Scupper may have some minor tie to Barlus in that he'd want to try and learn what the druid knows about the various mushrooms and fungi that grow in the deep woods. Whether or not Barlus is interested in sharing his knowledge with the goblin or simply tosses him out of the grove on his ear each time he approaches is up to the GM.
I think it is still pretty rare for most goblins to write things down. But that doesn't mean it doesn't live on somewhere, in some form. Maybe parts of a nursery rhyme scattered across the three major tribes (of course how have those changed from the original over the years.) Maybe the wiley old matron did write it down, but where would she have hidden it? Or maybe its more of his personal alchemical philosophers stone. Anyway... I'd expect Scupper at least knows of Payday Teedum. Probably took a beating from him now and again like nearly every goblin at the mill. But he's maybe also done the foreman a favor or two by healing a couple of his boyos with his potions or providing something to go boom when the man needed to really put an exclamation on a point he was making. Course, Scupper wouldn't do that if other goblins (or even other short folk like the halflings) were the targets. Other longshanks on the other hand...well outside of Laurel, Scupper doesn't much worry about their squabbles.
Okay so here is the alias for my goblin alchemist. I think he's just about complete, I just need to add equipment and some more formula. |
