🔧🔥 LODGE TAVERN BIO — SKIVVIT EMBERFLICK
As dictated at high speed by the goblin himself, transcribed with minimal screaming.
“HI! I’M SKIVVIT! SKIVVIT EMBERFLICK! INVENTOR EXTRAORDINAIRE, CERTIFIED GENIUS, AND OCCASIONAL CAUSE OF UNFORTUNATE BUT SCIENTIFICALLY NECESSARY INCIDENTS.”
Thalia: “Skivvit. Breathe.”
Skivvit: deep inhale
“…genius.”
Now then.
YES, I built that.
NO, don’t touch it.
UNLESS you want to!
But if you do, make sure you sign this waiver—
wait—THE WAIVER IS ON FIRE, HOLD ON—
frantic stomping noises
RIGHT.
As I was saying:
I am the Lodge’s resident tinkerer,
artificer,
boon
and
bane
depending on the hour and whether or not anything is currently exploding.
Mostly things are exploding.
I make:
gadgets!
gizmos!
whirligigs!
flame-activated self-stirring mugs!
a cheese slicer that achieved sentience!
and one regrettable flying broom prototype that nearly took off Belvik’s left tusk!
NOT MY FAULT.
Mostly.
Anyway—
I’m from the Emberclaw Warrens originally,
where goblins either become inventors or hazards.
I became both.
A success story!
Thalia hired me because she said, quote:
“If you’re going to blow things up, at least let me supervise so you don’t die.”
I love her.
Ashwhisker watches me like I’m a walking thunderstorm.
Harl thinks I’m “a menace with potential.”
Belvik asked me to build him a “voice enhancer.”
(I did. It worked. Too well. Lasted six seconds. Shattered eight mugs.)
Astrae?
HAH.
He looks at me like he knows how I’m going to die.
AND HE WON’T TELL ME.
Rude.
Anyway, if you need something fixed—
or broken—
or built—
or questioned ethically—
I’M YOUR GOBLIN.
Just remember the Skivvit Motto:
“If nothing is on fire…
give me ten minutes.”
— Skivvit Emberflick
Inventor. Menace. Local miracle. Fire hazard.