Drip

Introduction

In the tangle of twisting steam pipes and potion-soaked cobbles that make up Gutterbrew Alley, there exists a figure known simply as Drip—a hobgoblin alchemist whose very presence seems to fizz with magical mischief. To some, he's a menace. To others, a misunderstood genius. To Drip himself, he is merely a faithful explorer of magical possibility.

Origins and Stall

No one quite knows when Drip first appeared in the City of Or. He simply was—perched one morning on an overturned keg, goggles askew, concocting something that hissed a little too cheerfully. Over time, the stall around him took shape: bubbling cauldrons, mismatched flasks, a cracked sign that read “The Cauldron Lottery,” and a smell that danced somewhere between rosemary and regret.

Drip’s shop is as infamous as it is adored. Customers don’t come expecting safety—they come seeking serendipity.

Philosophy of Brewing

Drip is not a madman, though many assume so. He speaks quickly, excitedly, often mid-experiment, and always with a sort of tender reverence for the process of magical chemistry. “Brewing,” he once told a baffled cleric, “isn’t about getting it right—it’s about getting it interesting.” He has no use for formulaic precision, preferring instead to converse with his ingredients like old friends with secrets.

To Drip, chaos is a kind of honesty. He believes potions should surprise you. If you know what’s going to happen, what’s the point of drinking it?

Appearance and Manner

He’s lean, twitchy, and always smiling. His robes are patched with burn marks and potion stains, and he often hums tunes no one else recognises while stirring something that changes colour depending on your mood. His brass goggles are usually upside down. His pockets usually contain several small vials, one spoon, and a polite note that reads “I’m sorry for what this does.”

The Turnip Incident

Drip’s fame exploded (almost literally) during one particularly unhinged Election Festival, when one of his potions caused a council candidate to sweat turnip juice and lose a debate to an actual vegetable. Tallis Thorne, who of course witnessed the entire event (and also insists he coached the turnip), declared the incident a civic miracle.

Since then, “Debating the Turnip” has become a tongue-in-cheek tradition, and Drip’s brews are unofficially invited to every Election Festival’s wildcard round.

A wooden bust of the turnip, now affectionately known as Tharnibus, sits beside Drip’s stall to this day.

Relationships and Reputation

Drip holds deep respect for alchemy, even as he blurs its boundaries. He argues that chaos is not disorder—it’s freedom. Among the fringe elements of Gutterbrew Alley, he’s considered a living patron of the unpredictable.

His relationship with Professor Marwa Krindlenut of The Stable Flask is both cordial and competitive. While she values stability and order, she respects Drip’s conviction—even if she refuses to drink his products.

“Drip,” she once said, “is what happens when curiosity drinks too much.”

Legacy

Drip lives behind his stall, under a canvas tarp lined with vials and sketches drawn in steam soot. It’s said that some nights he brews potions not for sale, but simply to talk to them. And if you ask him why he does what he does, he might hand you a corked bottle, say “You’ll understand in a minute,” and grin until the bottle begins to sing.

He is, in his own words, "a scholar of outcomes and orchestrated accidents."

Whether legend or nuisance, genius or goblin, Drip is Or’s living question mark.