Gobber Clankfest

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Craft: A well kept golem in plate and apron.

Klythos: Goblin Artificer, fairly obvious.

Selia: A sleek halfling lass, quick and nimble.

Smythly: Stone faced Goblin. With a big hammer.

Takiyah: Auburn-haired gobber woman in vestments of Reos

Zoob: Bright green gobber with big ears and bigger gun.

Zoob is standing on a streetcorner in Goblintown holding a large sign on a stick. The sign reads "Gobberz Meatup" and is written in something suspiciously red on white-painted wood. He's looking dejected at the lack of interest as the bustle of Goblintown continues all round him without pause.

Selia plops herself down on a bench near Zoob, peering around absently. "Maybe ya shoulda put sumthin 'bout refreshments? Reckon lotta blokes come fer dat sorta stuff." Wait, when the heck did she get here? Sneaky little dancer.

A golem passes from stall to stall, looking at the variety of Goblin artifice on display. The tools of his own trade are readily apparent, a blacksmith's apron with various tools, both mundane and arcane poking out from his pockets. He wears a pair of goggles too finely worked to simply be for eye protection, but with all mechanisms protected behind the brass casing. He sees the dejected looking Gobber, magicite eyes dimming briefly before he steps over. << Make any recent discoveries? >> he asks, using a Goblin word that means 'mistake' just as much as it means 'discovery'

Zoob signs theatrically. "Oh woe is me! Nobody wants to come to the Gobber meeting where we make all the plans on what to explode yet!" He winks slyly at the halfling woman, clearly not as upset as he is pretending... badly. "All the Gobbers have more important things to do than coordinate the chaos for maximum effect! How will we even optimize our actions?"

Selia waves to Craft, grinning, and shrugs lightly to Zoob. "Is a good thing, ain't it? Folks havin stuff ta do? Always sorta da way, them rare few willin ta set 'side their own work few the betterment of da group. But reckon we can come up with sumthin ta help da rest of us." Wait, did she just claim goblinhood?

"Your people do not seem particularly inclined towards organization," Craft observes in his metallic voice, taking a look around at the improvised nature of many of the buildings around. "That trait seems to be more Gnomish than Goblin, and we all have seen how it works for them." He turns to Selia, then looks to Zoob. "At least when Goblin artifice explodes, it is typically by design. I once watched a Gnomish device designed to create a beverage from ground beans and boiled water explode and remove its inventor's eyebrows."

Zoob puts down his sign. "It's no use, it's not the same without Gobbers. This is like that time with tha marmots and the rasher of bacon, nobody ever listens to me when it's truly important and next thing you know everything is covered in flour and someone needs to replace three of the legs on their favourite chair. Typical." He then brightens at a though. "On the plus side the sign has been providing shade so it's not a complete loss. And Gobbers are exterts at explosions, that's how we invented thunderbelchers and shoes."

Selia nods in agreement. "Best ideas come from da places ya weren't 'pecting 'em to. So iffen ya do da unexpected all da time, yer bound ta come up wit a buncha good ideas."

Craft says, "Shoes?"

Takiyah has arrived.

Zoob is standing on a streetcorner beside a sign which is currently facedown on the ground. He nods at Craft. "Yep, shoes, we invented them. Totally." He looks at Selia more closely. "You are a Lucht, right? Sometimes I have trouble telling pinkskins apart, but you don't sound like any Lucht I ever met. They are usually so very boring."

GAME: Selia rolls bluff: (15)+18: 33

Selia blinks at Zoob, with big, watery eyes. They're like sad puppy dog eyes, the size of puppy dogs. Seriously, it's kinda freaky. "I... I... BWAH!!" She's crying! Zoob! You made the girl cry! That's bad, and you should feel bad! "I've tried ta be a good Lucht! But I jus can't live wit da lie any more! Mum tried ta set me right, but I gotta make Da proud and join me gobber roots. Even if I ain't never gonna grow inta sum proper green skin. Can't even get a proper wart! Why must I be so ugly?!"

GAME: Zoob rolls sense motive: (8)+-2: 6

Takiyah strolls through Goblintown, a sketchpad under one arm and a contemplative look on her face. Her creativity had hit a bit of a rough spot, and while she currently didn't have any commissions, staying in practice with item design is always a good thing. The unconventional designs in the area might just be what she needs to get some new ideas.

GAME: Craft rolls sense motive: (16)+3: 19

Smythly has arrived.

Craft watches Selia as she starts to weep, going even more statue-like than normal. After a long moment, he pats the halfling on the head, which would be a bit more comforting if his hands weren't made of metal, one imagines.

Zoob flaps his hands and hops up and down, clearly having no idea what to do with a crying woman. "There there, I'm sure with in some lights you could be quite attractive, I hear they can do amazing things with green dye and, well, your ears a sort of small but everyone is different. You'll find a nice Gobber who will be able to overlook your... problems...." He clearly realizes he's digging himself deeper but doesn't know how to stop.

You've heard of looks that kill? Some wizards can actaully do that. Selia isn't a wizard, but the look she shoots Zoob isn't too far off. She sniffles, and blinks at Craft. "Thank ya both. I know yer tryin ta help. But it's me burden ta bear. Sumthin had ta deal wit me whole life. But sumtimes, da crushing weight of it all just gets ta be too much, ya know?"

Craft looks at the panicking Zoob. "You are... bad with women," he remarks. Yep, the asexual, barely gendered Golem is calling out Zoob for weak game. He turns to Selia. "You have more eyebrows than many," he remarks evenly, and, scanning the area, spots Takiyah, eyes moving towards her sketchpad before turning back to his shorter companions.

Zoob puts his hands over his face. "Oh dear, I see to have erred. Somehow. This is worse than that time with the goat." He looks up at Craft's words, slightly offended. "Hey now, I'm bad with everyone! Bad at everyone. Good at being bad to... oh never mind. It's not women, it's non Gobbers I..." he pauses and looks back at Selia. "Oh dear."

Klythos has arrived.

Selia sniffles, hunts around a bit, and fetches out a hanky. Blowing her nose loudly, the small female sets it aside with a wet plop, and eyes Zoob. "Ya are bad with wimen. Just cause yer bad wit menfolk too don't change dat."

GAME: Takiyah rolls Perception: (10)+6: 16

<OOC> Takiyah says, "So much for trying to find my sense of RP. Have fun, all!"

Takiyah has left.

Craft looks between the two, then back to Zoob. "Perhaps a change of subject would help," he remarks. "What were your plans for the meeting of Goblins, if it occurred?"

From the basement of a burned out building climbs Klythos, as always, clad in his titan armor. He narrows his eyes as he looks around, perhaps he has a secret base under there, perhaps he just doesn't want to pay rent, who knows.

Zoob picks up his sign which reads 'Gobberz Meatup' and brandishes it. "A meatup. We get together and cook and eat lots of meat. It's right here on the sign, I have a whole crocogator cooking on a spit in my hotel room. Well, when I call it a hotel it's more of a rooming house, and when I say room I really mean the backyard that they haven't locked the gate on yet." He grins widely, all upset already forgotten. Perhaps this short attention span is why he's bad with people. "The guy who sold it to me assured me that crocogator is a regional delicacy. Somewhere. If cooked properly."

Selia wipes her eyes and blinks a few times, trying to move on from the recent emotional distress. "How ya plannin ta cook da gator? I ain't much of a chef, but willin ta lend a hand iffen ya need one."

Joining the otehrs in Goblintown, Smyhtly is arriving...well...clanking onto the scene, anyways. His earthbreker over his shoulder, he seems quite happy to be here and see so amny goblins!

Klythos does not appear impressed, nor really like he cared in the first place. Maybe he just came for the free food, because he moves over near the sign, and nods. "When eat?"

The sound of Titan armor draws Craft's attention, along with the clank of armor. He looks between the two newcomers, making no comment on the topic of food, in much the same way that an elf tends not to comment on beard maintenance.

Zoob shrugs at Selia. "Same way you cook anything, apply heat until it's done. I've learned that it works better if you don't try to apply too much heat too fast, so I just stuck it on a stick and put it over a fire." He waves his sign at the newcomers. "Hey folks! Come meet... um, I never got your name, miss? She's apparently half Gobber herself so don't comment on her obvious lack of... oh dear."

Selia blinks, and takes a slow breath. Zoob's Foot in Mouth syndrome still has her a little upset, but it's rapidly shifting to a different sort of upset. *ahem* "Name's Selia. Selia Shadowkin. Reckon is nice ta meet ya." *mutter* "Ya know, despite everything." *mutter*

The titan armored goblin, Klythos, frowns as he looks at the small crowd, adjusting a dial on his armor for a moment, a faint clicking heard as he turns it. "No cooked? Take long. Come back?"

Craft looks to Zoob. "Perhaps... silence would be advisable?" he suggests, and looks to the newcomers. "I am Craft," he introduces, nodding to his fellow artificer. He wears no Titan armor, but the other tools of the trade are carried quiet openly, and the firearm slung across his back is clearly his death ray.

Zoob looks around and judges that there are enough people. He steps back and puches open a gate in the fence behind him. "Please, enter, the food should be... on fire! Oh no!" He runs into the small yard that has been revealed and grabs a bucket of water, sloshing it over the flaming corpse suspended over a small fire. "It's still good! I'll just have to pick off the burned bits, I'm assured that because the skin is so thick it's, um, usual for it to catch fire? It's not a problem!"

GAME: Zoob rolls bluff: (4)+1: 5

GAME: Klythos rolls Perception: (12)+12: 24

Klythos eyes the meat warily...is it really edible

<OOC> Zoob says, "Burned some but there are probably edible bits. It's certainly not actually supposed to do that."

"Hello, friends! What's on your agenda today?" Smyhtly beams at Zoob, then eyes Selia. He eyes her for a long moment, then shrugs. "If he wants to claim gobber blood, more power to her, I guess!"

Selia eyes the... 'food'... carefully, but shrugs and enters the yard, glancing around the place with idle curiousity. "Nay da most posh place, but look good fer sumthin casual."

The artificer goblin frowns a bit, but figures out which parts are edible. He will wait until he can get some food, then sit somewhere and chew while watching the others. He is not the most talkative of sorts apparently.

Zoob uses a rag to wipe down the top of a table that stands near the fire and then pulls out a couple of daggers to stabs the wet roast. He shifts it over to the tabletop and stands back. "Okay, I'm no chef, but I think we can all just dig in. Unless someone has a device for seasoning meat? I wouldn't know where to start." He offers one of his daggers around. "Anyone want to start? Or I can I guess so you can find out if it's dangerous."

Selia doesn't have any fancy gear. Just her regular grey/black outfit, nothing snazzy with cogs or dials or anything. "Eh... think traditionally ya serve da guests first. But in dis case think an exception is pretty suitable."

Zoob eyes Selia sideways. "In a traditional Gobber meal everyone grabs what they can. In my family anyway."

"That sounds about right," says Smyhtly to Zoob, cheerfully. "I had eight brothers and sisters! What about you?" Then he eyes Selia. "And what about /you/?"

Klythos manages to pop out a small blade on his armor, it vibrates slightly as he cuts his meat, that makes it cut better of course. He starts to chew, still mostly just observing, though he seems slightly amused by the discussion on Selia.

Craft watches the knife, giving a small nod of approval, and turns as the subject moves to Selia. "I do not carry utensils," he offers, late.

Zoob thinks briefly. "I have no idea how many siblings I've got, Ma had a guy in every port and most of the kids stayed with them. I always liked airships so I stayed with her, but I really don't know." He helps himself to a mostly not-charred hunk of scorched lizard-thing. "I think I have some extra knives somewhere if anyone needs." He starts gnawing.

Selia rolls her eyes. "Ment fer parties. Family's different... I think." She frowns, idly poking at her meat with a tiny, scary sharp knife. More a scalpel, really. "Don't 'member. Reckon were just me, mum and da. Don't recall nobody else. Nay 'till da Guards came, anyways. Da didn't make it. Mum were in da Slave Pits when I left. Reckon still there when Abyssa fell, so reckon she's gone now too."

The artificer goblin seems to cut off a bit more meat, then simply heads back towards the burned down house he must have his secret base under. Perhaps he really did just came for the food and not for conversation.

Klythos has left.

"Oh," says Smyhtly to Selia. "Charn." He sounds sympathetic. "I can't imagine that. It must be awful to be from Charn." He shakkes his head. "I can't imagine they treat gobbers particularly well there."

Zoob goes to pat Selia on the shoulder and hesitates. "There, there. Um, things could be worse? I dunno, I'm really bad at this. This is Charn? I don't think I've ever been there, Ma always thought it would be unhealthy." He looks curious. "How did you get out?"

Selia nods to Smyhtly. "Ain't a good place. Sum good people in it, but nay many." Shifting focus to Zoob, she shrugs. "Killin and bribes. When dat whole mess wit Sendor went up, were some blokes sent ta help out. Wernt too hard ta get shipped along. Ment ta slip 'cross da border went got to da city, but wound up wit da Resistance instead. When da war ended, came here da 'sandros."

"I was captured by enemy forces," Craft shares, voice somewhat distant. "Force into slavery. When the Irregulars rescued me, the first thing I did was kill one of my oppressors with their own weapon. No thinking being should be forced to serve another," he says, the upset of the memory making his always metallic voice almost sound like distant forge work, each syllable the striking of hammer and anvil.

Zoob spits out the bit of meat he was chewing on. "I'm sorry, this crocogator isn't really very edible. Next time maybe I'll get someone who can actually cook to do that bit. Oh well." He nods at Selia and Craft. "Indeed, freedom of choice is paramount. If you have no freedom you aren't living, or at least you might as well not be."

"That's terrible!" Smyhtly proclaims to Craft, shaking his head. "The things that have been done to War Golems have been awful." He pinches the bridge of his long nose, looking sympathetic. Then he slaps Zoob on the back. "Stil, mighty great of you to set this meeting up!"

Selia eyes Zoob seriously. "Don't never think that. Don't matter wot guards be watching ya, or what chains ya be locked in. Livin be wot ya do inside. Ya let dat break, don't matter iffen every lock is open. Can break bones, rip flesh. But yer spirit only breaks iffen ya let 'em."

"And if you don't break them back," Craft says darkly. The golem can be rather scary when he wants to be.

Zoob sighs. "I've put my foot in it again, haven't I? I was trying to be supportive but clearly I don't have the experience to understand a situation like that. Let's just say I think that anyone who is enslaved should be freed, and I'm willing to help those who can't help themselves. Is that reasonable?"

"It is a sad day whe nit comes to violence," says Smthtly, sadness in his tone, "but sometimes it is necessary." He looks down. "Reos forgive me for having to do such things."

"It's a noble goal," Craft remarks to Zoob, and turns to the other gobber. "Violence is a part of life. Look at the animals. The predators inflict violence on the prey to feed themselves, and fight to establish dominance within their own species. The prey fight one another for mates, and fight those that would devour them. Why should it be any different for those who speak the common tongue?" he asks. "If one would attempt to devour another, is it not just if they should be devoured themselves?"

Selia nods to Zoob. "Ya mean well, and dat counts fer a lot."

Zoob shrugs at Craft. "Violence isn't the only answer but it certainly is one that works a lot of he time." He pats the barrel of his thunderbelcher. "Bessie and I, we do what needs doing, help those who seek help, fight Dran and scare off mammoths, and mostly guard the airships. It's a good living over all."

"Force can solve a lot of problems, but let us not forget that using force can make us into the problem at times," suggests Smyhtly, firmly.

Selia says, "Iffen violence ain't solving yer troubles, ya ain't useing it right. Which ain't ta say violence be da Best solution. Jus one o' many."

"Violence does not solve all problems," Craft admits. "However, we are in a violent business." He looks to his blacksmith's apron and tools. "Well, many of us. My pursuits are often more about creation than destruction, but, when I destroy, I do it with great efficiency."

You say, "Violence is pretty much the adventurer way. Heck, for Gobbers even creating things can be pretty violent."

Selia looks to Craft. "When ya make sumthin, ya destory da bits ya made it from. When ya destory sumthin, ya make wotever rubble ends up being. Only real difference is how useful blokes find da results."

Craft looks to Selia. "I... would disagree with that characterization," he remarks. "You can destroy while making, but the acts are more separate than you imply."

Zoob looks back and forth. "I think I have to agree with the Gobber lass. Half-Gobber. Creation and destruction are closely linked, the main difference is the intent. Intent is certainly important to you, but to someone else they might not even be able to tell the difference. Did I create food or did I destroy a crocogator corpse? Okay, that's not actually a good example as I barely made food,, but still."

Selia nods in agreement. "Creation be more dan mere perspective, I agree. But yer viewpoint plays a big role."

Craft doesn't move or comment for a moment, his eyes dim. "I still disagree with the characterization," he remarks, and rises to his feet. "However, your Gobber get together appears to be shaping up, so I will be going. I will perhaps see you in my shop at some point."

Zoob jumps up. "Wait, you have a shop? What do you sell? I need to buy some stuff like some mammoth spray and a reverse jar opener and maybe some other stuff. You are right, making things is cool because then you have stuff!"

Selia grins and listens to Zoobs excitement, having nothign to add at this point.

"Arms, armor, and some artifice," Craft remarks. "Nothing quite like you are describing," he says. "I mostly market myself to adventurers, though occasionally I provide goods for others."

Zoob looks disappointed. "No clothes? I need a magic cloak to protect me from spells that try to pry into my brain. Even being a Gobber doesn't stop some people."

"...I want a magic cloak," mutters Smyhtly. His armor clanks at this point, but he does nod towards Craft. "Maybe I ought to ask your help."

Selia nods, and pulls her only cloak a little closer, despite the warmness of the weather. "Is da little things dat can prove important sometimes."

"I could probably do a cloak," Craft muses. "Although I do not promise any great fashion. I prefer function to form."

Zoob gestures at his own makeshift armour. "I'm not exactly a fashion plte myself. I'd be happy to pay you the standard rate fro such a cloak if you are willing?"

"Function is what matters," agrees Smyhtly with Zoob, firmly. He frowns, though, thoughtfully.

Selia has disconnected.

"Something on your mind?" Craft asks.

Zoob starts digging around in his belt pouches for coins.

Zoob gives up on the coins. "I'll find you later and make arrangements then, okay? I should do something about this." He picks up the wet charred corpse and runs off with it, presumably to dispose of it somewhere.