Sam Smorkle - Goblin Barmaid

Sam Smorkle

Female Goblin Rogue 5 / Expert 3
Size/Type: Small Humanoid (Goblinoid)
Hit Dice: 5d6+5 plus 3d6+3 (36 hp)
Initiative: +4
Speed: 30 ft. (6 squares)
Armor Class: 18 (+1 size, +4 Dex, +3 leather corset armor), touch 15, flat-footed 14
Base Attack/Grapple: +5/-3
Attack: Dagger +10 melee (1d3-1/19-20) or sap +10 melee (1d4-1 nonlethal)
Full Attack: Dagger +10 melee (1d3-1/19-20) or sap +10 melee (1d4-1 nonlethal)
Space/Reach: 5 ft./5 ft.
Special Attacks: Sneak attack +3d6
Special Qualities: Darkvision 60 ft., evasion, trapfinding, trap sense +1
Saves: Fort +3, Ref +11, Will +6
Abilities: Str 8, Dex 18, Con 12, Int 15, Wis 14, Cha 16
Skills: Appraise +8, Balance +10, Bluff +16, Diplomacy +12, Disable Device +10, Disguise +13 (+15 acting), Escape Artist +12, Gather Information +18, Hide +16, Knowledge (local) +10, Listen +11, Move Silently +14, Open Lock +12, Profession (Server) +13, Search +12, Sense Motive +16, Sleight of Hand +14, Spot +11, Tumble +12
Feats: Good Judge of Character, Negotiator, Skill Focus (Gather Information) Environment: Urban Organization: Solitary, with staff, or attached to local tavern circles
Challenge Rating: 8
Treasure: Standard
Alignment: Neutral Good
Advancement: By character class
Level Adjustment: —
Languages: Common, Goblin, Cajun

Possessions: Apron lined with hidden pockets, flour-stained serving tray, battered ledger book, ring of lock picks hidden inside hair wrap, six throwing knives concealed throughout clothing, silver locket containing old family sketch, 38 gp, pouch of pilfered sugar candies, perpetually warm beignet wrapped in cloth

Feat - Good Judge of Character: Sam possesses an uncanny instinct for identifying emotional states, hidden motives, deceptive speech patterns, and interpersonal tension. She gains the feat’s normal bonuses to Sense Motive and related social assessments. In practice, Sam almost always notices when someone is frightened, lying, desperate, angry, infatuated, or preparing violence.

Physical Description

Sam Smorkle is a slight goblin woman with soft olive-green skin, large expressive ears, and bright green eyes that rarely seem to miss anything. Thick auburn-brown hair falls in loose curls around her shoulders when not tied back for work, often escaping scarves, ribbons, or hurried braids by the middle of the day.

Unlike the sharp, feral appearance many outsiders associate with goblins, Sam possesses an almost disarming warmth to her features. Freckles scatter across her nose and cheeks, and her expressions shift quickly between amusement, skepticism, embarrassment, and mischief. Her smile comes easily and often, especially when she knows something other people do not.

She dresses simply and practically, favoring worn skirts, aprons, fitted bodices, and layered shirts suitable for long hours working inside crowded kitchens and taverns. Flour dust, powdered sugar, and tiny grease stains are nearly permanent fixtures on her clothing. Small shell decorations, mismatched buttons, and little bits of scavenged jewelry are often sewn into her garments in ways that appear random until one realizes Sam remembers exactly where every piece came from.

Though physically unimposing, Sam carries herself with constant awareness. Her eyes track movement instinctively, her posture adjusts to the emotional atmosphere of a room, and she possesses the unsettling habit of maintaining eye contact just a second longer than most people find comfortable.

Lore

Sam was not born important.

Like many goblins within the humid maze of Ville des Marai, she survived through adaptability rather than strength. She learned early that loud people were dangerous, quiet people were worse, and smiling people often hid the sharpest knives. Long before she understood politics, she understood fear. Long before she understood economics, she understood hunger.

Service work taught her the rest.

Taverns, kitchens, cafés, and gambling halls became her education. Wealthy patrons ignored servers while confessing secrets openly across tables. Criminals relaxed around her because they underestimated her. Nobles dismissed her as background decoration. Drunk sailors forgot she existed halfway through conversations. Sam listened to all of them.

Over time, her survival instincts evolved into something far more sophisticated.

Sam became frighteningly good at reading people. She learned how guilt altered tone, how liars rehearsed details too carefully, how desperate people avoided silence, and how dangerous people watched exits before sitting down. She developed the habit of filing every detail away indefinitely, building an internal map of favors, grudges, affairs, debts, ambitions, and hidden tensions throughout the city.

Despite this, Sam never became cruel.

She steals pastries constantly, flirts shamelessly, and pretends to be far less intelligent than she truly is because the performance keeps people comfortable around her. Beneath the humor, however, lies someone profoundly protective of the people she considers hers. Sam notices fear quickly because she remembers living inside it.

Many residents of Ville des Marai think of Sam merely as “that strange goblin girl who works too much and steals beignets.” A much smaller number understand something far more unsettling.

There are people in the city who deliberately avoid lying to her.

Not because she has authority.

Because they suspect she already knows.