DM Frogfoot's Goblin Mayhem Campaign (Inactive)

Game Master Dalton the Thirsty


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Male Goblin Skirmisher 1 [7XP]/ 18|20 HP/Javelins 2/ Damage d6/ Armor 3/Followers 3

Prox smiles as the doo-dad ingests his spoils of war. Good. Now 'sgo. He props his ally up as he looks around warily.

Regain 10 HP or one debility. Prox isn't the smartest goblin, so a tummy ache is a good enough reason to chug one to him


Goblin
Bonuses:
Wis +3, Str/Dex +1, Con/Int+0, Cha-1
Forest Druid 2 15/18 HP, 1/? Hold, 0/9 XP Armor 2. [+Con -Int]

Healed to full!

Talks wasn't sure what had just happened... but she liked it.

'Hic!'

She stumbled around a little as she stood up, and then was happy to get help with walking. Her patchwork lizard-skins standing in stark contrast to her emerald everything-else.

She leaned against the other goblin as she started to sing...

"Just like the white winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she's singin'
Whoo-whoo-whoo
Just like the white winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she's singin'
Whoo, baby, whoo
Said, whoo..."

And she went on and on, off-tune, trying to get the others to sing with her. Even though they probably did not know the wonder her Mama Tree had taught her about: Stevie Nicks.


N Male Goblin Wizard 3 (Missionary) | HP 9/30 | AC 19 | F +7; R +7; W +6 | Perc: +6, Darkvision | Speed 25ft | Focus 0/1 | Familiar Focus 1/1 | Drain Familiar 1/1 | Spells: 1st 1/4, 2nd 0/3 | Hero Points 0/3 | Active Conditions: wounded 2

"Dis's th' best party ever!" Chewface takes a deep swig from the stout he found, and hucks the rest into the air, creating an alcohol-fueled explosion with fire from his glove. "I'm gonna like bein' a warleader! Heehee!"

Is The Burning Wheel a one-use item?


Nope! Just be careful - some gods don't take kindly to mortal goblins "blowing up their phones."


Goblin
Bonuses:
Wis +3, Str/Dex +1, Con/Int+0, Cha-1
Forest Druid 2 15/18 HP, 1/? Hold, 0/9 XP Armor 2. [+Con -Int]

Hello? Gaia? Do you have Prince Albert in a can?


Male Goblin Bard 2 | HP 14 | Fodder 13 | XP 1 | 6 coins | Arrows 4 | Darts 5 | Gambit 0 | Weakened

I stagger to my feet and stretch. "What's with the wheel?"


Male Goblin Skirmisher 1 [7XP]/ 18|20 HP/Javelins 2/ Damage d6/ Armor 3/Followers 3

Prox stares intently at the fire wheel. Oh, I know what this is. Mama told stories about it. He used to tell me lots of stories when I ate too many spiders, Prox chimes.

Spout Lore: 2d6 - 1 ⇒ (6, 2) - 1 = 7


N Male Goblin Wizard 3 (Missionary) | HP 9/30 | AC 19 | F +7; R +7; W +6 | Perc: +6, Darkvision | Speed 25ft | Focus 0/1 | Familiar Focus 1/1 | Drain Familiar 1/1 | Spells: 1st 1/4, 2nd 0/3 | Hero Points 0/3 | Active Conditions: wounded 2

"What'ould yew know 'bout it, I is smart, I knows this stuff, I read," Chewface boasts. "S'got somethin' ta do with da Fire God."

Spout Lore: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (5, 2) + 1 = 8


The goblins gather around the slightly-broken looking wagon wheel that initially caught Chewface's attention. He recognizes the telltale symbols of the Fire God's worship all over it, but neither of the two goblins can quite figure out how to use it. The two gobbos poke and prod at the thing for a few moments without result. It looks like the drow were unable to put it to proper use either - you see puncture marks on the wood where Drow arrows were shot into. They must have been using the thing for target practice.

It's getting dark soon. What do you all do?


Goblin
Bonuses:
Wis +3, Str/Dex +1, Con/Int+0, Cha-1
Forest Druid 2 15/18 HP, 1/? Hold, 0/9 XP Armor 2. [+Con -Int]

Talks, half-drunk off of non-alcoholic beverages, moves up to the thing, wobbling back and forth. See, these guys were looking at it all wrong.

This was a thing.

And thing talking was talks's thing.

She leaned down in front of it, and started to mumble to the wheel.

Thing-Talker:

"Hey... thing... what's up. And why're ya burning like that? Should we put you out or sumfin?"


Male Goblin Skirmisher 1 [7XP]/ 18|20 HP/Javelins 2/ Damage d6/ Armor 3/Followers 3

Prox turns and shakes his head. "Definitely an oddgurl, that one. Definitely more dangerous than the oddboyz," he thinks to himself. It was getting to the point where the group needed to either make camp or march onward, but leadership seems lacking.

Who wants sleep? the skirmisher asks to no one in particular.

Dark Archive

m Goblin Necromancer lvl 5 | HP: 18/20 | Armor: Wait, what? | XP: 3/12 | Toe Eaten?: Nope | Bodies: 4/5 |Power: 3

Once the Tarmogoyf fails to show, Retzacks dismiss his illusion. Ugghuggghuguh. Some things are best left alone.

"No one is sleeping," Retzack mentions casually as he passes by Pox. "The crashing of the tower would have alerted every drow, human, guh-nome, and wandering beast in a dozen leagues. Once I have unlocked the prime chest, we must make our way at least somewhat further from here.
In the mean time, pack up all that you can carry...in whatever manner you wish."

Retzack pauses as the gobbo that had been expelling spiders talks to the...wheel. He's no curiosity for that thing, but what it had done earlier...

"That was mildly impressive. Conjuring spiders from within yourself. Once you learn some control, that will be useful. Keep practicing." He pats the gobbo on the head and strides off, making a mental note to try that himself. How many spiders would he have to eat?

The rumors of the untouchable chest at the far-end of the tower have reached his ears, and his yearns to test his magicks against those of the Drow.

Retzack's Magical Disentrapment: 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (5, 6) + 2 = 13


Male Goblin Bard 2 | HP 14 | Fodder 13 | XP 1 | 6 coins | Arrows 4 | Darts 5 | Gambit 0 | Weakened

"Ooh, ooh! Blibberblab sing songs of victory! Makes gobbys march better." I round up my entourage and put them in the classic goblin formation, a disorganized mess. Clearing my throat, I get ready to head back home once Retzack's done being Retzack.

"We win! We won! We won! We win! No more stinkys!…" The marching chant continues in the same vein, gleefully repeated by my minions.

Trailblazin': 2d6 ⇒ (3, 6) = 9


Male Goblin Skirmisher 1 [7XP]/ 18|20 HP/Javelins 2/ Damage d6/ Armor 3/Followers 3

Is we leavin'? Prox asks, confused at the conflicting orders and lack of activity. With nothing better to do, he takes point if only because he can be own boss. Too many cooks...

Scout: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (6, 1) + 1 = 8


Tutti, you can sense in a strange way that the Wheel can communicate with you, it just won't. The humble, arrow-shot, dilapidated wagon wheel is nonetheless too haughty to speak back to you.

Retzack, you corrupt the spell protecting the chest. Whereas another Mage aligned with, say, the Horizon or the Mask, could open the magical lock with no difficulty, a Mage of your singular talents must use a bit more brute force. Your spell affects more than you mean it to, and you dissolve the entire treasure chest along with the magical lock, fortunately leaving the loot inside the chest unscathed...this time.

You loot:
A broach in the shape of a black widow spider
A thin stiletto
A small hand mirror
several pairs of drow lingerie and multiple highly disturbing sex toys
A single scroll, tucked away at the bottom


Goblin
Bonuses:
Wis +3, Str/Dex +1, Con/Int+0, Cha-1
Forest Druid 2 15/18 HP, 1/? Hold, 0/9 XP Armor 2. [+Con -Int]

Talks tilts her head to the wheel... Then shrugs. "Its artistic. Not really good at talkin and stuff like me." she wobbles slightly as she says this. "It can talk... just doesn't for some reason that we'll properly never know." she says as her eyelids slowly droop. Then she hiccups painfully back to alertness.

Dark Archive

m Goblin Necromancer lvl 5 | HP: 18/20 | Armor: Wait, what? | XP: 3/12 | Toe Eaten?: Nope | Bodies: 4/5 |Power: 3

Retzack spends some time going "Hmmmmm" over the spell's effect and the items so left. He cases some minor spells to see if any of them have more than merely intrinsic worth. Those without enchantment go into his backpack.
(Including the toys.
Especially the toys.)

Retzack's Lore-spouting Spout-lore: 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (6, 3) + 2 = 11

Idly he wonders why that boglin is talking about itself talking to a wheel. It's not like the gods can talk back or anything. It would be interesting if it was a two-way street.
Perhaps then he could learn how to serve Propoket more dutifully.


Hah, just realized both your characters that are in my campaigns worship the same dark god...hmmm...that gives me ideas.


N Male Goblin Wizard 3 (Missionary) | HP 9/30 | AC 19 | F +7; R +7; W +6 | Perc: +6, Darkvision | Speed 25ft | Focus 0/1 | Familiar Focus 1/1 | Drain Familiar 1/1 | Spells: 1st 1/4, 2nd 0/3 | Hero Points 0/3 | Active Conditions: wounded 2

"Wha's this?" Chewface walks up to Talks as she stops talking to the wheel. "Dat's my wheel! I found it, so's it's mine. Mine, mine, mine." He snatches it, and, sitting down, begins experimenting with it, mostly by trying to set it on fire.


Retzack:

The Widow's Broach bears a Transmogrification aura;
The stilleto an Evocation aura;
The small hand mirror, a Divination aura;
The sex toys; an aura of creepiness and lechery;
And finally, the scroll, the only magic item whose purpose you immediately understand. (Understanding how the other items work will require about an hour's careful experimentation each; otherwise, you can just use them and see what happens.) You recognize this type of scroll because you've heard of scrolls matching this description being used before, by cunning mages of other races.

How the scroll is supposed to work:

When a new Mage gains possession of the magical artifact, that Mage selects one Spell Focus. This Spell Focus cannot be changed. Thrice per rest, the Mage may cast a single spell of the type aligned with the Scroll's Focus instead of his own.

The gobbos are getting itchy to leave as you study the loot, Retzack. In particular, you notice that agitated fodder goblin, the one who called himself Chewface, trying to set fire to the strange wagon wheel that Tutti was speaking to earlier.

The scout and the trailblazer seem ready to leave at a moment's notice, but who will oversee the warband's supplies? Need one more Wisdom roll from someone to determine how your supplies last...the journey is 1 ration long.


male Hobgoblin cleric 2 21/21 HP 1XP Acolytes 2

Haluk directs his acolytes to find elf flesh, meatsnacks told us to bring elf flesh back after we defeated them. It was better to keep the obese warlord happy.

He will then take charge of the rations on the way back. Giving evil stares at any goblin who considers eating more than a few morsels, sharpening his sacrificing knife while he does it.

2d6 + 2 ⇒ (2, 6) + 2 = 10

Dark Archive

m Goblin Necromancer lvl 5 | HP: 18/20 | Armor: Wait, what? | XP: 3/12 | Toe Eaten?: Nope | Bodies: 4/5 |Power: 3

Retzack nods once, stuffs the lot in his bag to be study and handed out later, and heads out to where he sees Haluk organizing the return trip.

Retzack has mixed feelings about returning to the tribe. Of course they accomplished the mission, and the fame will no doubt let him replenish his dwindling supply of drooling sycophants, but he has a small fear that peace and prosperity will rear its creepy head and he'll never get to try the spell he's been working on.

Ah, well. Life is hard.


Blibberblab is an enthusiastic leader, even if he isn't all there all the time. The more serious-minded among you might notice as you travel that you went in circles once or twice traveling through the unfamiliar hillsides, and your journey's going to take you a ration's worth of time longer than it would have ordinarily. Fortunately, Haluk is an experienced quartermaster, controlling the food rations with an iron fist fitting of a hobgoblin cleric, and reduces the amount of rations everyone need mark off by 1. Therefore, mark off 1 ration for the journey. This gives everyone time for the Make Camp and Level Up moves, which you can do safely, so just sidebar anything you want to do during the one night's camp.

You're traveling through the hills the following day, listening to Blibberblab's fodder goblins follow him in a raucous drinking song and swigging from their waterskins filled with ale from the tower. Many of your fodder goblins, if not all of them, are at varying levels of drunk, and singing:

Goblins chew and goblins bite,
Goblins cut and goblins fight,
Stab the dog and cut the horse,
Goblins eat and take by force!

Goblins race and goblins jump,
Goblins slash and goblins bump,
Burn the skin and mash the head,
Goblins here and you be dead!

Chase the baby, catch the pup,
Bonk the head to shut it up!
Bones be cracked, flesh be stewed,
We the goblins—you the food!

Prox, all of a sudden, you round the corner to see a cloaked and hooded figure, wide-set but hunched over low enough to be dwarf height, with two human-sized riders wearing damaged mail armor and unmarked black masks following him on horseback. The riders are armed with lances. The figure looks just as surprised to see you as you are to see him, but he doesn't immediately make a hostile move, only clutches his long, gnarled staff. You can't see his face beneath his hood. What do you do?

Dark Archive

m Goblin Necromancer lvl 5 | HP: 18/20 | Armor: Wait, what? | XP: 3/12 | Toe Eaten?: Nope | Bodies: 4/5 |Power: 3

Retzack sighs. There are far and away enough things to do without getting into another scrap. These three look like they might not be overly incompetent, and the mission is done. Time to head home to bowls of hot slime and beds...also of hot slime.
No need to squander resources on some random scrap...probably.

Retzack steps forward, his best mockery of a smile crawling onto his face. "Greetings, travelers. Though I am genre-savvy enough to know what you must think, we have no quarrel with you for the now. I beseech you to side-step and let our large and fearsome band pass. I tell you we are sated in loot and booty and will probably not pounce on you if unprovoked.
But make haste in deciding. I can not guaranty this offer for long, though you shall find it the most generous one to be had."

Me Talk Pretty One Day: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (5, 1) + 1 = 7

Wait, is this for Prox only? nuts. In that case...nevermind. ;}


Goblin
Bonuses:
Wis +3, Str/Dex +1, Con/Int+0, Cha-1
Forest Druid 2 15/18 HP, 1/? Hold, 0/9 XP Armor 2. [+Con -Int]

Talks feels much better after getting some real rest. She spends the trip quite actively being a fodder goblin. Singing and dancing and partying. But it's always clear she's just trying to make everyone like her... and she's a poser.

On the other hand... She also spends much of the night telling Blibberblab of all the emerald creatures that stalk the land that he's never really heard of, and how they're pretty much always amazing and the best friends of all goblins ever.

Mighty enemy tower defeated (among others), gobble-un powerfist acquired, mission to defeat elves complete, destroyed much civilization. Talks's BFF for life seems to have vanished in the night... And so with it goes her bond. 4xp... Ding! Or well... not ding. End of session and level up are different. So still 4/8.


Male Goblin Skirmisher 1 [7XP]/ 18|20 HP/Javelins 2/ Damage d6/ Armor 3/Followers 3

Prox assumes a defensive stance with his pig sticker poking out from behind his shield. Who is you? he shrieks. Show me your faces or I will take them

Tower tobbled, magic, cool aid, bond, and drows have sex toys? 4 XP


Oh yes, everyone gets 1 XP from Groonk disappearing. That's how I always handle bonds with PCs when they leave the group.

And you can do your End of Session XP when you make camp during the perilous journey, too. No reason not to. :)


The hooded figure reaches up to grab his cloak and pull it back, revealing himself to be a very old-looking and stumpy hobgoblin, clearly at least 20 or 30 years older than Haluk, who is no spring chicken himself. The hobbo's face is covered with thick warts and old scars healed badly, but the hobgoblin betrays no fear as he stands before your warband. The horses that the riders behind him are sitting upon, you notice, are also covered in armor, with almost no exposed skin.

He seems surprised at Retzack's words, staring at him for a moment. The silence stretches out uncomfortably, and some of the drunker goblins begin elbowing and muttering to each other. Tutti, from your place within the warband you can hear the goblins wondering among themselves what kind of loot this old geezer might be holding, or how strong his riders would be in a fight. Goblins hate horses in the best of times, so the riders make the fodder goblins slightly nervous.

The uncomfortable moment passes, however, as the old hobgoblin steps aside and gestures for his riders to do the same. He smiles at you with teeth that are yellow and rutted as you walk by.


Male Goblin Skirmisher 1 [7XP]/ 18|20 HP/Javelins 2/ Damage d6/ Armor 3/Followers 3

Prox gathers up the rest of the warband leaders. I no like him. Seems strange. Even more than usual hobgobblin. With that last comment, he makes sure he's outside easy striking range for any of the hobo. What we do?

Dark Archive

m Goblin Necromancer lvl 5 | HP: 18/20 | Armor: Wait, what? | XP: 3/12 | Toe Eaten?: Nope | Bodies: 4/5 |Power: 3

"We return to Meatsnacks. He needs to hear of our victory. Would you delay his joy upon hearing this news? For all we know, this hobgoblin in in league with Meatsnacks and we would be attacking a valuable ally. Who are we to know his labyrinthine maneuvers? Your ardor is admirable, but save it for our next target. Surely so strong a band as we shall be pointed at a new target upon our return."

Retzack motions for his followers to fall in behind him. As he passes the old hobgoblin, he gives him a quick nod. "You have made the right decision. The blessings of Propoket upon you."


The hobgoblin returns your nod with a curious smile, only returning, "And also upon you," before turning with his mysterious riders and proceeding back along the path that you were coming from. The clopping of the riders' damned horse hooves can be heard for some time as you lead the warband back to the heart of Meatsnacks' territory.

No other event marks your travel through goblin country. As a very powerful goblin warlord, with many individual tribes fallen under his sway, Meatsnacks had become strong enough to enforce a kind of "king's peace" upon his land - or as much peace as could be expected in goblin territory. You encounter no foes that pose a threat to you, though you see many inhabitants that scurry away from your warband the moment they hear you all coming. In this land, non-greenskins live in constant fear and hiding.

Your warband's return is heralded by goblin scouts in watchtowers that overlook the road, who blow horns loudly and off-key and set up a tumult in the valley up ahead. This whole valley is yours, or rather Meatsnacks', personal domain.

You arrive at around the lunchtime hour, so it's easy to find your oversized Chief seated at the largest feasting table in the largest feasting hall. Trophies and severed heads of all descriptions decorate the walls, and Meatsnacks' personal throne is of great quality, stolen from a faraway castle's lord when the castle was sacked.

Meatsnacks is even bigger than you remember. He's mid-scarf of a huge turkey leg when the goblins who were escorting you throw open the main doors to the feasting hall. He turns to look at all of you dully, meat hanging from his jaws.

"Who returns from their far-flung missions abroad?" the Chief's voice seems to rumble the wooden rafters of the hall around him.


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Male Goblin Bard 2 | HP 14 | Fodder 13 | XP 1 | 6 coins | Arrows 4 | Darts 5 | Gambit 0 | Weakened

"We did! The elfishes are slain, their tower in ruins, and we brought some elf-sticks to feast upon!" I leap onto the table and regale the goblin masses of our toppling of the pitiful drowowow building.

"We pushed, we shouted, we hammered!
The elfs fled, they cried, they died!
We looted, we took, we stole!
The elfs fled, they cried, they died!

There was a great tower, standing in the night.
Cheef Meatsnacks said, "that just ain't right!"
He sent his mighty goblins, out to kill and fight.
We came upon the stinkies, it was such a sight.

"Bring it down!" Went out the cry,
An angry warband gathered round to try.
A giant brute strode forth, anger in his eye.
The goblin charged with awesome strength, stone began to fly!

A hammer blow to the wall,
The tower leaned to fall.
"WAAAGH!" screamed the goblins,
"AAAGH!" screamed the elvins.

There was a great tower, fallen in the night.
Goblins returned to Meatsnacks, now all is right.
"Your mighty warband is the one to fight."
We knocked down the tower, it was such a sight!


Goblin
Bonuses:
Wis +3, Str/Dex +1, Con/Int+0, Cha-1
Forest Druid 2 15/18 HP, 1/? Hold, 0/9 XP Armor 2. [+Con -Int]

Talks is friendly to everyone that they passed. Especially the ones that scurried away terrified. She really -really- wanted people to like her... but alas. She was... her.

Then tried to make guesses as to what Blibberblab was gonna rhyme with. She was pretty much always wrong.


Male Goblin Bard 2 | HP 14 | Fodder 13 | XP 1 | 6 coins | Arrows 4 | Darts 5 | Gambit 0 | Weakened

I love playing bards.


*applause* Now I want Meatsnacks to jump up on the table and start a goblin rap battle


Male Goblin Bard 2 | HP 14 | Fodder 13 | XP 1 | 6 coins | Arrows 4 | Darts 5 | Gambit 0 | Weakened

Recruit: 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (5, 2) + 2 = 9

My stirring account of our glorious battles inspires some of the tribe. Naively thinking that life with us is less dangerous than staying with the tribe, nine of the more foolhardy start following me around, eagerly chatting with my remaining minions.

I hop off the table and head into the warrens. Curling up on a dead sheep, I rest my aching head and nod off to sleep. Since it's been three days since being confused, the debility wears off, right?


Male Goblin Skirmisher 1 [7XP]/ 18|20 HP/Javelins 2/ Damage d6/ Armor 3/Followers 3

Prox scurries away from the collective gathering to call in various favors and attempt to gather his own hoard of followers. He is a very influential goblin, what with is being okay with sticking anyone he wishes to recruit but refuses.

Fodder: 2d6 + 0 ⇒ (1, 2) + 0 = 3

Not sure if fodder rolls can fail, and if they can, do we mark XP?


N Male Goblin Wizard 3 (Missionary) | HP 9/30 | AC 19 | F +7; R +7; W +6 | Perc: +6, Darkvision | Speed 25ft | Focus 0/1 | Familiar Focus 1/1 | Drain Familiar 1/1 | Spells: 1st 1/4, 2nd 0/3 | Hero Points 0/3 | Active Conditions: wounded 2

Chewface goes cavorting about the camp, showing off his loot and making awesome displays of awesomeness with his flail and gadgets. Everyone can tell where he is due to the gouts of fire rising from his position.

Fodder: 2d6 ⇒ (4, 3) = 7

3 XP marked, 2 from End of Session, 1 from Groonk.


Can't fail Recruit rolls, you just get a smaller number of followers. I'm dealing with my newborn right now but I'll update everything soon.


Goblin
Bonuses:
Wis +3, Str/Dex +1, Con/Int+0, Cha-1
Forest Druid 2 15/18 HP, 1/? Hold, 0/9 XP Armor 2. [+Con -Int]

recruit?: 2d6 - 1 ⇒ (4, 1) - 1 = 4

Talks moved around the place being her needy-clingy self. She did her best to make a few friends as best she could. She wasn't very good at it, though. She was just too... nice. And she wasn't really gonna sacrifice other gobboes. She was different!


Meatsnacks - and indeed, the entire horde of goblins gathered around him, numbering about 90 in the huge longhall - are all taken aback by Blibberblab's enthusiastic shouting.

However, the bard really knows how to sell a song the greenskin way. With his catchy lyrics and rhyming meter, the bard soon has the entire longhall beating the tables and smashing the plates in enthusiasm! The bard's reedy voice nonetheless carries far, and when he shouts "WAAAAAGH!" the entire longhall answers him, "WAAAAAAAGH!"

The bard finishes his song, and Meatsnacks, who had not joined in with the singing, rubs his chin thoughtfully as he regards his crew. Unlike most of his kin, Meatsnacks was a canny goblin; one of his greatest skills was selecting the finest gobbo for the job. One by one, his penetrating gaze sweeps over each of you in turn, lingering on the newcomer Tutti, and the formerly fodder-rank goblins Prox and Chewface. Well, battlefield promotions were not uncommon for goblin warbands.

|HO! Then!" says he, lifting his massive bulk from the throne upon which he had been resting. You can hear sighs of relief from the goblin slaves that formed the throne's supporting legs.

The big Chief steps up onto the feasting table set before him, squashing food underfoot heedlessly as he approaches you all standing before him. The hulking goblin's lips slowly peel apart in a grin. An anticipatory hush falls over the longhouse from all the other goblins present.

"YOU MAKE ME PROUD!" he roars at last, lifting both arms to each side and looking around at all the gathered greenskins. "YOU SMASH THE DARK ELVES DEAD! THEIR TOWER IS GROUND TO DUST! So Marvexa tells me..." he says, with a backward glance at the ever-present shaman that Meatsnacks is fond of consulting.

"Your timing could not have been better, captains," he mutters in a lower tone, before raising his voice again, "Because the FIST OF MEAT IS FINALLY READY FOR TESTIN'! I CHOOSE YOU GOBBOS TO BE THE POINT OF THE SPEAR THAT WE WILL THRUST INTO THE HEART OF THE LANDS OF MEN!"

Reaching out to one of the spears lying nearby to one of the feasting tables, Meatsnacks picks it up. The fat chief turns his body around and hurls the spear at a map that had been stretched on animal hides on the back wall of the longhouse. The map was another treasure of Meatsnacks' previous victories - designed and wrought by elven travelers, the map displays the territory surrounding Meatsnacks' domain in stunning detail.

The chief's aim is unerring and it thunks heavily into the map, point first, in a village - no, a town - near the northern border of Goblin-lands. Nearly all of you know of this town from personal experience; they're one of the strongest remaining threats to Meatsnacks' borders.

Marastrom, known as Crusader's Call by some, is a haven for adventuring sorts - especially those who hold faith in the Goddess of Humans, Lady Mara. For years, a neverending stream of clerics, paladins, priests and mercenaries had been flocking to Marastrom to fight off the numerous threats that surround it.

Your staring at the map is interrupted by the Chief chuckling to himself and turning back to face all of you. "But war is for tomorrow. Tonight is for feasting and celebratin'! You do Meatsnacks proud, gobbos...now siddown here next to me and tell me every detail of your journey while we eat..."

Though he addresses you to sit down, Meatsnacks' attention easily wanders, so it would be trivial for you all to perform the actions you already listed, including recruitment, during the evening's festivities. What do you do before eventually passing out for the evening?


Male Goblin Skirmisher 1 [7XP]/ 18|20 HP/Javelins 2/ Damage d6/ Armor 3/Followers 3

Right, Prox says as his fodder is lined up before him. Pointing at one minion, You're First and Only legion, because you're first and only. The fodder goblin seems to beam with pride at the title. He further denotes fodderites as Second and Only, then Third and Only. First and Only make sure Second and Only doesn't run away. Second and Only make sure Third and Only doesn't run away. Now, Third and Only, you get most important job. You make sure First and Only legion doesn't run away. Chain of command falls apart if they do. Having issued sufficient command to his three legions, Prox dismisses them and contemplates the tactic implications of "Get 'em."


male Hobgoblin cleric 2 21/21 HP 1XP Acolytes 2

Recruits 2d6 ⇒ (5, 4) = 9


Male Goblin Bard 2 | HP 14 | Fodder 13 | XP 1 | 6 coins | Arrows 4 | Darts 5 | Gambit 0 | Weakened

I stretch out the next morning and wiggle out of my sheep carcass. Hmm, Blibby need more arrers. I set out with Sickfinder to bully a few of the smaller goblins into giving me some arrows in exchange for the coins I found. One of them has also found a rusty chain hauberk, which I claim for the Cheef's Warband, in exchange for a handful of humie-monies.

One bundle of arrows, 1 coin. One bundle of darts, 1 coin. One chain shirt, 10 coins.


Goblin
Bonuses:
Wis +3, Str/Dex +1, Con/Int+0, Cha-1
Forest Druid 2 15/18 HP, 1/? Hold, 0/9 XP Armor 2. [+Con -Int]

Talks doesn't remember last night. But she wakes up covered in a foot-and-a-half deep hole. She's pretty confused about the whole ordeal, but her four homies are still asleep around her, growling pathetically in their sleep. She was gonna have to take them to meet Mama Tree if it was on the way. She'd set them straight... and maybe even teach them to be druids like she'd taught Talks! Some day...

Her head hurt again. And she was stuck to the clothing of the other goblins by the weird hairs all over her body, so when she awoke, she woke them too, trying to shake herself free. She'd eaten enough to make her belly very angry. And her mouth was stuffed full of dog fur to prevent a hangover. It seemed to be working pretty well for now.

Dark Archive

m Goblin Necromancer lvl 5 | HP: 18/20 | Armor: Wait, what? | XP: 3/12 | Toe Eaten?: Nope | Bodies: 4/5 |Power: 3

Retzack spends most of the night engaged in rapt discussion with Marvexa, discussing the True Nature of Things, and sipping some pungent green liquor.
He vaguely remembers approaching Talks to get her opinion on some of the drow artifacts, but then the girl stuffed a bunch of dog fur in her mouth and ran off, so he never got the chance.

Just before sleeping, he spends some time figuring out the Nature of the items that they last found in the drow tower.


A new dawn rises on the greenskins' domain. There are fresh cries from the slave pits, screeching flocks of carrion birds wheeling overhead, a goblins, lesser orcs, hobgoblins, and beasts of burden as far as the eye can see.

Around the longhouse of Chief Meatsnacks, many of the revelers of the previous evening - the warband leaders excluded, of course - wake up to find themselves robbed of all their possessions by those goblins who could hold their intoxicants better and remain conscious. This is commonplace for goblin parties. Some goblins are dead, stabbed in your usual inter-family or personal rivalries gone sour. Blood and puke can be found nearly everywhere.

Chief Meatsnacks is at the center of it all. Food is heaped high around him like an edible fortress, with the massive goblin reclining lazily in the center of it. The Chief's appetite seems to be finally sated after a full night's nonstop eating, drinking, and shouting.

Retzack:

The fruits of your experimentation:
The broach in the shape of a black widow spider grants the wearer the following Advanced Move:

Tiny Spider Shapeshift:
Change into a Tiny spider. While in this form you are very easy to overlook, and you possess a surprisingly debilitating venom, should you get close enough to your target.

The stiletto deals an additional 1d6 damage against foes with heavy armor. This damage ignores armor.

The small hand mirror can be used as a Focus for divining magic. Once per day you may ask it to show you something somewhere in the world; if it is within the mirror's limited scope of power, it will attempt to show it to you.

It's well into the afternoon by the time most of the tribe is active and moving around. Meatsnacks begins bellowing to all of you at around 2ish PM, in much the same way as he summoned you to your first mission. Like before, Marvexa the shaman is also present, leaning on her staff and staring sourly at you.

This time is different, however, Marvexa is standing at the head of a huge group of laboring hobgoblins, pulling a giant boxed crate at least 20 feet tall. There are airholes cut in the sides.


Male Goblin Skirmisher 1 [7XP]/ 18|20 HP/Javelins 2/ Damage d6/ Armor 3/Followers 3

Our skirmisher thinks about the big box of the past and tries to think of what big things this box might hold.

Spout Lore: 2d6 - 1 ⇒ (1, 4) - 1 = 4

Prox turns to Talks, while making sure his armaments are prepared. What's the tree say is inside? Box is made out of wood, so the tree ought to know, right?


Goblin
Bonuses:
Wis +3, Str/Dex +1, Con/Int+0, Cha-1
Forest Druid 2 15/18 HP, 1/? Hold, 0/9 XP Armor 2. [+Con -Int]

"No, no. That's silly. When you chop down a tree and turn it into stuff you murder the tree. This is a box, and boxes aren't like trees. You have to talk to 'em dif'rent." she explained.. but did as she was asked.

First she spoke to the box, to find out what was inside, then she tried to speak to what was inside. please don't be a Tarmagoyf

Using my Tree Talkin and Thing Talkin!

Hey little guy... whatcha holdin'? Asked Talks (which sounded vaguely like wood being sawed to everyone else) of the ginormous box, before making a series of strange noises in the direction of the box, all of which seemed to be animal sounds from different animals. Hey there. My name is Talks to Trees, but Tuti for short. What's your name?

Dark Archive

m Goblin Necromancer lvl 5 | HP: 18/20 | Armor: Wait, what? | XP: 3/12 | Toe Eaten?: Nope | Bodies: 4/5 |Power: 3

Retzack peers at the box with great intent, though he stands a good deal away. He says, out loud, "What folly is this that I am not consulted before random boxes are brought into court? Do you seek to hide something from the all-seeing eyes of Propoket? We shall see about that!"

Retzack yells to the ceiling for a solid minute, carping about and preening about "Sight-Beyond-Sight" and other such things...

...and then he just looks at it using his x-ray guh-nome tek-no-logic.

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