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In one timeline, Gorgug Thistlespring is a famous drummer on the school bloodrush team, to whom saving the world has become casual.
He is the greatest wizard of his age and the first Barbificer.
He’s friends with the Archdevil of Rebellion, the Elven Oracle, Saint Kristin Applebees, Kalvaxus Killer and renowned private investigator Riz Gukgak, and the Maximum Legend who slaughtered toxic masculinity.
In another, Gorgug Thistlespring is none of those things.
Most would describe him as a rather unremarkable artificer, or perhaps just an unremarkable sort of person.
Jury’s still out on that one.
He has a permanent crook in his neck and thick rimmed glasses, the cause of which can be found somewhere in the hours spent bent over workshop tables, bending and welding metal flowers together to calm an angry mind.
His grey hoodie is worn in some spots and frayed in others. He has calluses not from a sport or instrument, but from tinkers' tools. He edits the AV club footage from the background, content to merely be there. His adventuring party was formed on his first day of Freshman year, exactly when Principal Aguefort said to.
It’s almost funny how much a single coping mechanism can change things. What a wonderful and strange thing knowledge is.
On his first day of freshman year, Gorgug doesn’t break his bed in a nightmare. He does, however, accidentally swipe his latest flower off the work table as he shoots awake in his chair, but luckily there’s no bed in sight to break.
It’s one of the many good things about falling asleep in the Workshop. The bad thing, he remembers after checking his crystal, is that he doesn’t have an alarm down here.
So no, Gorgug doesn’t break his bed on his first day.
He’s late instead.
By the time he makes his way into school, clutching the tin rose he spent last night working on, Gorgug knows he’s missed something. People are whispering everywhere, tittering about how “she just decked him” and “something is seriously wrong with that guy”.
His first day of high school and he’s already missing inside jokes and drama. His hoodie feels heavy on his back as he shrinks into it.
Taking a breath, he reminds himself that he just needs to find the paper with his schedule on it, and go to the assembly people are talking about.
This is fine.
After a few minutes of looking around and avoiding the upperclassmen—he has upperclassmen now, which is both crazy and terrifying— yelling about petitions or ballots or whatever, Gorgug finally finds the door to the auditorium and ducks inside.
Looking up at the bleachers, his heartbeat pounds in his throat. He follows the current of people in front of him, ending up in a back corner next to a girl with blue skin and pale hair who seems to be trying to hide in her long sweater just as much as he tries to in his hoodie.
He’s about to open up his crystal. All he needs to do is put his flower away—he’d meant to put it in his bag but he’d had to rush out the door. It was a gift for whoever his artificer teacher ended up being—when she speaks up.
“What’s that?” Her voice is soft and light, like fresh fallen snow.
He freezes, turning towards her. Sure enough, it’s the girl in the sweater.
“It’s…uhm,” Gorgug swallows. “It’s a rose.”
“It’s so pretty!” She smiles, and he flushes at the praise. He’s about to spit out some form of denial when she asks, “Can I see it?”
Mechanically, Gorgug passes the flower to her. Her hands are freezing when they touch, and she looks down at the flower in undeserved wonder.
“This is lovely! If it wasn’t silver I’m not sure I’d be able to tell the difference from the ones outside,” She turns to look at him. “Did you make it?”
His thoughts grind to a halt, “Uhm.”
“It’s okay if you didn’t, I didn’t mean to assume anything,” She backpedals. “Sorry.”
“No, no, you were right, I did make it,” He admits. “Last night.”
Her eyes go wide, studying the rose again, “You made this in a night?”
Rubbing his arm, he looks down at it, “Yeah, I just like making them, I guess. My Mom taught me how, and then I started doing them myself.”
He felt sick with every word, like water through a dam that couldn't be stoppered up again.
His mind flickered back to his mom when she was first teaching him how she made them back when she was in high school. What was it she used to do?
“That’s awesome! I learned how to knit from my Mom,” He could hear the smile in her voice. “She made this sweater, actually.”
He looked up, and she was smiling at him. He smiled back, giddy. He was talking to someone. He was talking to someone.
And oh , he remembered what his mom did, and what she told him to do.
He’d thought it was dumb at the time, but this girl really did seem to like the flower.
“My mom used to tell me to give those flowers to people to,” He only stumbled on the idea of whether she’d think he’s lame or not for a second, “break the ice with people.”
She looked up at him.
“Hi, I’m Gorgug,” Breathing in, he summoned an adventurer’s courage. “Would you like a flower?”
“Really? I can keep it?” At his nod, she grinned. “Thank you so much, I love it! I’m Lucy.”
They started talking from there while the rest of the auditorium filled in, and he learned that she was also a freshman, she was a cleric, and that she was planning on joining an adventuring party with her neighbor.
They went quiet when Aguefort started talking, and when they were finally dismissed for orientation, she called out to him, “Gorgug! Come find me after the next assembly. I want to know how Artificer classes are!”
She’s gone before he can ask her to tell him the same.
He wonders if this is what having a friend feels like.
Having the rest of the school day as a “day of fellowship” after orientation sounds like a nightmare. They have to find their own adventuring party, out of a sea of strangers? The only thing that saves him is the beeline he makes to Lucy, who is remarkably still holding his flower.
The tall girl is talking to a blonde halfling with small pigtails and a bright smile on her face.
“Luce, our orientation was barely even orientation, it was crazy,” Pigtails says, swinging her body back and forth in her mary janes. “No one even knows where the rogue teacher is, and Luce , guess what?”
Lucy Frostblade humors her, “What, Kip?”
“Some of the seniors have never even met our professor! Seniors!” ‘Kip’ squeaks. Gorgug isn’t sure why that would be exciting to anyone. The idea of spending all of high school just looking for a teacher makes all of the hairs on Gorgug’s arms stand up.
At least he now knows why he’s not, and will never be, a rogue.
“It’s not just a first day thing?” Lucy asks. “Really?”
“Nope! But I’m going to be the first one in our grade to find them,” Pigtails has a glint in her eye that sends a shiver down Gorgug’s spine. “Mark my words.”
“Marked,” Lucy says, and her eyes meet Gorgug’s. “Oh! Hey, Gore…uhm…Gorgug?”
He feels a flush come across his skin as he nods.
“Well then, Gorgug, this is my neighbor, Kipperlilly Copperkettle! Kip, Gorgug,” She introduces them as easy as breathing, and jealousy flows through him as he tries to smile. It only takes one askance look from Kipperlilly for him to drop the attempt.
“Uhm, Hi,” he forces.
“Hi! What classes are you in?” She asks. Before he can get the words out of her mouth, she continues. “I’m a rogue! Did you know that no one knows where the rogue teacher is?”
He pretends like he hadn’t been present for the last time she explained. It wasn’t her fault that Gorgug was easily overlooked, it was just how life worked. He shakes his head.
“Yep! Not even the seniors!”
They’re all quiet for a moment before he says softly, “I’m uh, I’m an artificer.”
Kipperlilly looks at him, up and down. She squints, “Hmm.”
Huh? What does that mean? He splutters, “W-what?”
“Did you make that?” She points to the tin flower in Lucy’s hand. Her brows are furrowed.
“Yes?”
She hums again, before asking, “Artificers are smart, right? You have to be, don’t you?”
“I mean—“
Lucy cuts in, “Kip what the hell! You can’t just ask someone if they’re smart!”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s rude!”
“It’s not that rude. I just think having a smart party is important,” Kipperlilly sniffs. “You and I can’t pull all the weight.”
Gorgug is reeling, because he doesn’t think he’s all that smart, but he also doesn’t want to think he’s dumb . But wait, what? She wants him in their party?
Gorgug was about to accept the idea that he’d have to beg and trade away his firstborn for an adventuring party. But Kipperlilly wants him ? Gorgug? And—huh—Lucy doesn’t seem to hate the idea at all.
“C’mon, Gork,” Kipperlilly waves him along. Gork?
Lucy elbows her sharply and Kipperlilly rolls her eyes. Gorgug feels strangely light at the idea that Lucy would correct someone on his behalf. Was Mom right? Did the flower really work?
Another waved hand, “Fine. C’mon Gorgug , we have a party to collect!”
She starts skipping away, leaving her two taller peers to rush after her. That lightness only spreads as Lucy sends him a commiserating look.
That lightness lasts right until Gorgug nearly slams into an elf with long dirty blond hair tied up in a ponytail, all except for a large flap covering one eye. He’s only stopped by the crystaltoonish pinwheeling of his arms in the space, and a yelp as he finds his balance again.
She looks at him, assesses him as something not worth her time, before turning back to the short, twiggy dragonborn at her side.
“Hi!” Lucy says, strolling up to them. Gorgug has to force his unhinged jaw shut. “I’m Lucy Frostblade! What’re your names?”
How does she just… do that?
The elf shifts, rubbing at her arms. She barks out a sharp, “I’m Ivy, ‘n this is Oisin.”
Kipperlilly shoves her way in front of Lucy, puffing up her chest and offering a hand, “Well I’m Kipperlilly Copperkettle, and this is Gorgug…”
“Thistlespring,” He mutters.
“—Gorgug Thistlespring! We’re making an adventuring party.”
“You and everyone else in this school,” Ivy sneers, looking down at the extended hand. “The Principal literally said to.”
Kipperlilly quickly crosses her arms in front of her chest, rescinding the hand. “Yeah, but we’re going to make the best one.”
The blue dragonborn takes a step forward, asking a soft, “Do you guys have a name yet?”
Kipperlilly matches Ivy’s snootiness step for step as she shoves her chin in the air, “Of course. But it’s a need-to-know basis. Members only.”
He whispers something to Ivy, and she turns back to them, studying Lucy before turning her piercing eye to Gorgug. Her nostrils flare, and he wonders briefly whether she can smell fear.
“I’m gonna take ranger classes,” She says, turning back to Kipperlilly, blowing her bangs up and out of her eye. “I don’t want to join a party with double rangers.”
“Don’t worry,” Lucy smiles placatingly, “None of us are on the ranger path.”
“I’m a rogue,” Kipperlilly announces confidently.
Gorgug shrugs, drawing up as much confidence as possible to mutter, “I’m trying to be artificer.”
Ivy’s eyes light up, turning them back on him. He feels whatever confidence he’d gathered shrivel up.
“Artificers make shit, right?” She spits the swear with a weird emphasis, and a wide grin comes across her face. “Like arrows?”
“I…”
“He only makes them for party members,” Kipperlilly sniffs, staring hard at Ivy until she looks down at the halfling. “No exceptions.”
He does?
Ivy waffles over it for a second, before rolling her eyes, “Fine. I’m in.”
“Do you have room in your party?” The dragonborn looks up, “I’m a wizard.”
Kipperlilly looks at him, and Gorgug is suddenly grateful that Lucy doesn’t inspect people like Ivy or Kipperlilly. It’d be good to have at least one girl in the party who isn’t that… intense.
“Duh,” She scoffs, and Gorgug knows the feeling on the dragonborn’s face intimately . In fact, he’d felt it no less than 5 minutes ago. “I wanted you and the ranger.”
“Ivy,” she corrects. “My name’s Ivy.”
Kipperlilly rolls her eyes, “I know that.”
“His name’s Oisin,” Ivy says again, more facetious. “In case you forgot that too.”
Kipperlilly turns around, scoffing, “C’mon, we need one more person in our party.”
“We do?” Gorgug looks at Oisin with wide eyes. They had both muttered the words at the same time and pitch. A small smile comes across the dragonborn’s face, and Gorgug meets it.
Lucy meets their stride as the two blondes rush to find their final party member, “Sorry about Kip, she can get a little… manic about her adventuring dreams.”
“Really?” Oisin jokes, looking up at her. “I never would have guessed.”
Gorgug laughs at that, small but genuine, and Oisin looks back with a wide grin.
There’s a gnome with dark hair and a puka shell necklace and an unbuttoned floral overshot glaring at an upperclassman gnome with similar features.
“I don’t want to be a part of your stupid party, Ez,” The shorter squeaks as they walk close. The top half of his hair is tied into a tiny ponytail, and a ukulele is slung over his back.
The taller opens his mouth to reply, but Kipperlilly steals the chance out from under him, “Join mine, then.”
“I will! No- I am,” The gnome announces without turning his glare away from ‘Ez’. “See, Ezra? I can find my own party, all on my own!”
“You didn’t even—“ Breathing in sharply, Ezra throws his hands up in the air. “Fine, Ruben! But you can’t complain about not being in mine anymore.”
“I never even did,” He stuck his tongue out at Ezra’s back as he walked away, before turning to their group bashfully. “So, uh, I’m Ruben. I guess you guys are my party now?”
“Yep,” Lucy nods. “You’re officially part of the team.”
“Welcome to the High-Five Heroes,” Kipperlilly grins, and Gorgug watches Ivy’s smug expression drop to pure slack. “We’re going to be the best adventurers Aguefort’s ever seen, mark my words.”
Lucy smiles wide and sharp, “Marked.”