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Grubbage Searoot
| Age | 43 |
| Species | Rat |
| Pronouns | He/Him |
| Size (Extra Small, Small, Medium, Large, Extra Large) | Large |
| Build | Obese |
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:
His right eye is a pale, milky marble; the aftermath of a long-ago brawl that he claims to have won, though the truth depends on who you ask. The other eye, sharp and cyan, still burns with the kind of cunning that keeps a beast alive in Bully Harbor’s shady bowels. A pair of dented gold hoops hang from his left ear, and his teeth are yellowed but strong. Well suited for cracking nutshells or biting through lies.
He dresses in the same tired, rumpled suit day after day, a shade of gray that might once have been black, paired with a crooked necktie and a faded red fez perched perpetually askew.
Grubbage’s movements are slow and deliberate, a shuffle rather than a stride. His paws are thick and calloused, forever fiddling with coins, ledgers, or the odd bit of junk that passes for treasure. He speaks in the rhythm of one who’s haggled every day of his life with an uncanny instinct for what his listener can afford to lose.
He is not an impressive sight, but he is an enduring one. Rats come and go in Bully; Grubbage Searoot remains. Unyielding and as unmovable as the shop he calls home.
PERSONALITY:
Gruff, sardonic, and perpetually unimpressed, Grubbage meets charm with suspicion and threats with negotiation. He loves a good haggle, he thrives on routine and the creak of the shop door, the ring of the cash bell, the slow drip of gossip that trickles through Bully Harbor’s underbelly. The shop is his fortress, and the clutter his armor. He rarely ventures far from it; the world outside is too loud, too unpredictable, and far too dishonest.
While others might call him miserly, Grubbage sees himself as stable. A rock in a harbor of shifting tides. He’s no saint, but he’s dependable. Pay your debts, and he’ll guard your secrets with his life. Cross him, and you’ll find every beast on the docks knows your business by sundown.
His humor is dry and dark as the bilge water beneath the pier. He doesn’t laugh often, but when he does, it’s the rasp of a beast who’s grown cynical against that world. Beneath the cynicism, though, there lingers a quiet loyalty. The kind born from shared grime and mutual understanding. He doesn’t trust easily, but once he does, he’ll grumble about you for the rest of his life, which, in Grubbage’s terms, is the highest form of affection.
STRENGTHS:
- Master Appraiser: Grubbage can size up anything, or anyone, in seconds. Whether it’s a trinket’s true worth or a customer’s breaking point, his nose for value is uncanny.
- Survivor’s Wit: He’s weathered pirates, inspectors, and con beasts alike without losing his shop or his hide. In Bully Harbor, that’s practically a miracle.
- Vault of Secrets: He remembers every deal, debt, and dirty whisper that’s passed his counter. Information is his real currency, and he never spends it lightly.
- Streetwise Veteran: Knows every alley, code, and racket from the docks to the upper markets. The harbor’s grime runs in his blood, and that makes him impossible to fool.
WEAKNESSES:
- Agoraphobic Tendencies: Grubbage hates leaving his shop. The wider the sky, the smaller he feels. The harbor’s chaos beyond his door puts him on edge.
- Cynical Worldview: He assumes every beast wants something, and that no kindness comes free. It keeps him alive but costs him connection.
- Physical Decline: Age and bad habits have worn him down. His breathing wheezes, his joints ache, and his stamina’s more rust than steel.
- Trust Issues: To Grubbage, every deal’s a gamble, and every promise’s a trick. He trusts no one completely, not even himself on a good day.
BIOGRAPHY:
By the time he could count, Grubbage was haggling over broken trinkets with the dock urchins, swapping buttons for seashells and polished stones, and learning that half of any deal was confidence. He grew up breathing mildew and dust, his father’s voice forever in his ear, teaching him how to spot forgeries, sniff out desperation, and survive the slow wars of Bully Harbor’s merchant underbelly.
When Rutter finally “retired”... which really meant he stopped getting out of the chair in the back room... Grubbage took over the business without ceremony. He’s been behind that counter ever since, guarding the pawn shop like a dragon guards its hoard. Every dented helmet, cracked locket, and waterlogged compass has a story, and he remembers them all. Who pawned them, what they said, how much was paid.
Now in his middle years, Grubbage keeps the shop running through instinct and inertia. He pays dues to the Furotazzi, the local crime family, for protection, though he prefers to think of it as “mutual investment.” He doesn’t trust the Fogeys or the Ministries, and he trusts “honest beasts” least of all.
He doesn’t trust easily. Not his customers, not his suppliers, and certainly not his neighbors, but he knows everyone’s story. Secrets drift into his shop like the tide, and Grubbage files them away just as carefully as his inventory. The old rat may look like a grease stain with whiskers, but in Bully Harbor, knowledge is currency, and he’s the wealthiest pauper in town.
Though he’s not without allies. He’s done business with all manner of crooks, collectors, and “honest traders”, and all agree on one thing: Grubbage Searoot will die behind that counter. And the harbor, for all its rot and ruin, will be a little poorer for it.
POSSESSIONS/REAL ESTATE:
A cramped, cluttered pawn shop near the docks of Bully Harbor
Greasy suit, crooked tie, red fez
SKILLS:
| Physical | Mental | Social |
|---|---|---|
| Endurance [1] (Trained) | Appraisal [4] (Seasoned) | Streetwise [4] (Seasoned) |
| Manual Dexterity [0] (Novice) | Forgery Detection [1] (Trained) | Negotiation [2] (Proficient) |
| Total Points in Category: 1 | Total Points in Category: 5 | Total Points in Category: 6 |
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