Grubgrindle: Kingdom of the Wyrde

In which we meet some of the characters to be found in and around the palace, usually milling about in the court unless put to work by the whims of the King

Doctor Thorne, the Royal Physician

Towering and wrong, Doctor Thorne appears at first glance to be a man—until you realize every limb is a little too long, his head too oblong, and his hunched frame about 23% too large to belong to any normal creature.

He wears a pristine grey-white coat, but it never gets dirty, and his plague doctor mask is fused to his face. It hisses faintly as he breathes.

Disturbing Details:
His bag is full of surgical leeches that whisper in Latin.

His handwriting appears before his quill touches the parchment.

He diagnoses patients with surreal ailments like “Chrono-Slippage” or “Inverted Ego Collapse.”

Speaks in a calm, echoing baritone that bypasses the ears and is heard directly inside the skull.

Keeps a collection of “future organs”—things the body doesn’t yet have but soon will.

He performs surgeries in The Room of Clean Screams, where the walls are padded with memories of those he’s treated. Some say he can cure anything—at the cost of something else.

The Seat of Absence

A black, twisting chair that folds inward on itself and hums.

No one remembers who used to sit there.

The chair occasionally votes, always in contradiction to the King’s wishes.

Why Everyone is Scared of the Mayor of Drumdark?

Mayor Thrumm looks like a pile of wet rope in a waistcoat, and smiles like someone remembering a mercy they regret granting.

He rarely speaks, but when he does, the room dims, and frogs fall silent.

He never removes his gloves, and everyone suspects his hands aren’t hands at all, but rather some kind of clever parasites.

The Hectoring King treats him like a visiting warlord, never raising his voice in his presence.

Once, during a feast, Doctor Thorne flinched when Thrumm entered. This was enough to cause panic for three days.

If you are at the court he is always there, if you find yourself on some errands in Drumdark, he is always there too.

Rumors:

Some say Thrumm is older than the cave itself.

Others claim he governs not just Drumdark, but everything beneath it, including the things that don’t yet exist.

The steps leading to Drumdark pre-date the village—but they say Thrumm built them, backward in time.

Once a goblin noble mocked the Mayor during court. The next morning, his house had no door and could no longer be entered. He was never seen again

🐐

Lord Gristlehand, the Royal Butcher.

As commonly described: swine-headed, sorrowful, and spiritually splattered.

Holds the title of “Minister of Reconciliation,” which mostly means cutting feuding nobles in half.

Has been known to whisper strange lullabies to the meat during council sessions.

The Buzzing Viscount
(Also known as: His Humbleness, the Honied Mind, The Hum)

Appearance:

A tall, bear like being in moth-eaten fur. Where a head should be, there is a living beehive, buzzing with golden-winged, whisper-sized bees.

His ‘robes’ are stiff with wax, and his gloves are sticky with perpetual sweetness.

Sometimes, bees form eyes on the hive to regard you. Sometimes they blink.

Behavior:

Does not speak—not in words. He communicates through the arrangement and dance of his bees, a complex language of vibration and scent. Court interpreters must stand very, very still to translate it.

When he becomes agitated, the bees buzz in minor chords, and anyone near him reports vivid memories of childhood disappointments.

Sometimes produces royal jelly which the court alchemists harvest for rituals and spells.

Role in Court:

Keeper of Whispered Petitions—pleas too dangerous or delicate to be spoken aloud.

Has influence in affairs of memory, inheritance, and betrayal.

Known to be older than the King, or at least older than the King’s name.

Rumors:

It is said the hive on his shoulders once belonged to a forgotten queen, and the bees still mourn her.

His body is hollow. Or full of honey. Or filled with tiny dancers who dream for him.

Peculiar Nobles & Court Members

Sir Lintfeather the Undone – A goblin noble of great status who wears only clothing made of pocket lint and forgotten socks. He is perpetually unraveling, but reconstitutes nightly with the help of his tailor, Madame Spider-Skein.

Lady Phlegmarina the Moist – A swampy, toadlike noblewoman who secretes a variety of magical slimes. She is revered for her “Slick of Diplomacy” and “Mucus of Memory.” Courtship with her is considered both a political alliance and a biohazard.

The Oracle of Knuckle-Bones – A many-eyed worm-beast that lives in a goblet and predicts the future by belching up small bones which it interprets in rhyming riddles. The bones are often stolen, so the Oracle is usually in a terrible mood.

The Grand Sniffer, Sir Nostrildamus – A vast-nosed sage whose power lies in his ability to “smell truths.” He wanders the court, sniffing things deeply and then mumbling riddles like “A lie! A lie with hints of beetroot and betrayal!”

Ambassador Splitch – A representative of the Mole-Centipede Confederacy. He has numerous legs and speaks only through interpretive dance and spittle. His visits are infrequent but always result in mild earthquakes.