Goblin Squad Member
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Welcome to an installment of:
Zodd groans as he wakes up. Pressing his hand to his head the barbarian tries to will the hangover headache away.
Movement next to him in the bed causes him to crack his eyes open. Upon seeing a buxom lass curled against him, Zodd grins. He didn't remember leaving the tavern last night with her or what her name was, but he supposed he could make up for that. Gently running his hand through her tangled hair the scarred barbarian leans over to wake her with a kiss to her temple.
Some time later Zodd leaves his house wearing only a loin cloth and his sword strapped to his back. He had noticed that his green hat was on the floor of his bedroom, so today must be Wednesday. Which meant that it was another chance to try to get more of his friends in Freevale to embrace the proud Stone Bear Clan tradition of Loin Cloth Wednesdays.
Striding purposefully through the town, his bare feet slapping on cobblestones, Zodd keeps his squinted eyes peeled for signs of life in the light of the rising sun. Almost everyone had participated in the keg race last night and it was possible that no one else was awake yet.
He decides to stop by the tavern first to harass any of his friends that had stayed there the entire night. Of course, it might not hurt to get an ale to chase away his hangover as well.
Outside of the tavern Zodd notices something that causes him to burst into laughter. A keg barrel was turned on it's side and inside was curled the familiar sleeping form of Grickin with a first place ribbon stuck to his cheek. Zodd had no idea how the little fellow managed to win every single keg race they had in Freevale, but he suspected there might be some kind of magic trickery involved.
While puzzling about how he might go about catching the little rascal in the act of using magic, the hairs on the barbarian’s neck stand on end. Instinct has his sword in his hand as Zodd swivels around to face whatever was sneaking up on him. In the shadows of a building he catches the gleam of evil red eyes and the shine of razor sharp teeth.
A little voice squeaks,
Goblins sneak and goblins spy,
Goblins listen for baby’s cry,
More voices, from sources around him that Zodd couldn't see, quietly sing along,
Find the crib and climb beneath,
Draw the blade and lick your teeth.
Zodd wasn't sure which god he had pissed off enough that he had to deal with a Goblin raiding party this early in the day, but he wasn't going to waste any time lamenting his luck. The barbarian takes a deep breath and bellows as loud as he can,
“To arms! Freevale is under attack!”
Not waiting to see if any of his clan mates woke up to help, Zodd lunges forward with his two handed sword swinging down at the grinning goblin he could see in the shadows. The creatures red eyes widened in disbelief as four feet of steel cleaved into it.
The other hidden goblins raise their voices as they start up a new song,
You will scream and you will run
Goblins chase you down for fun
Goblins hide where you can’t spy
Goblins snatch and gouge your eye
Zodd whirls his head from side to side trying to find more of the little monsters. He doesn't notice the goblin that launches itself from a nearby roof until it sinks its rusty dagger into his shoulder with a gleeful cackle.
The barbarian roars in pain and anger. Zodd welcomes the hot fury that rushes through his veins. Any trace of his hangover disappears as the spirit of the bear floods his body with rage. Zodd's vision becomes a haze of red and he loses himself in combat.
The next thing he knows, Zodd sees goblin corpses strewn all over the ground except for one that was still speared on the sword held firmly in his hands. The creature's little green hands were clutching at the blade while it coughed blood. Zodd raises an eyebrow as the goblin manages to cough one more verse,
Stabby day, stabby day
Glad to see you here today
We’re glad you came this way
It’s a stabby day
With a snort of disgust Zodd kicks the goblin off his sword and looks around.
The citizens of Freevale filled the streets, weapons in hand. He noticed with wry humor that most of them had entered the fight straight from sleep and so were only wearing their underwear. Zodd supposed that was about as close as he was going to get to having his fellow towns folk participate in Loin Cloth Wednesday.
Heading back to the tavern for a well deserved drink Zodd is not surprised to see that Grickin is still fast asleep, snoring softly, in the winning keg barrel.
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Goblin Squad Member
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Prox was vaguely aware of herself rolling over, her hand landing in a pool of liquid she was grateful for still being too hazy to identify.
Some peasant was yelling and causing a commotion just outside the open window that throbbed in her head. Freevale could use a rule, just one rule, about no yelling in the middle of the night.
What time is it anyway? It's still dark. The dark itches. Wait, that's not darkness.
Prox used the minimum amount of contact possible over her face to inspect the... piece of leather, thick, barely tanned too. Not a stylish bag. Was it, she'd heard that atrocious peasant shouting something the night before, could it be, oh calamities of Cayden it was. A loin cloth.
Proxima didn't own any loin cloths.
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The nude elf snickers to himself as he empties the contents of the small bottle across the top of the bar. He takes a candle stub off of the wall, it's flame about to die, and tips it onto the end of the counter. Hot wax pours out over the edge and splatters onto the floor but he pays it no heed. The flame flares, free from the drowning wax, and catches the liquid which flashes in a small fire across the length of the bar.
Rubbing his hands together the elf grabs two bottles of wine, takes a drink from each and raises them high above his head.
Then the Zodd walks in.
The barbarian was a mountain, easily able to throw a man into the air. Rumored to have killed his mother during childbirth too.
The elf stops short of what he is doing and narrows his eyes then asks, "is it Wednesday already?" He looks down at himself then at the floor behind the bar. Setting one of the wine bottles in the fire he reaches down and tugs at something a few times. A woman's voice faintly feigns protest and then the elf comes up with a loincloth. He takes a drink from the bottle he's holding then sets it next to the other one and comes around to the front as he puts on the oddly tight loincloth. Nimbly he dodges the gnome swinging upside down from the rafter and steps over a very groggy Proxima before standing in front of Zodd.
"Ready," he exclaims in a loud voice that elicits groans from half of the bodies in the tavern.
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Goblin Squad Member
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Welcome to another installment of Loincloth Wednesdays!
Sorry for taking so long to get another one of these puppies posted.
Zodd touched his left arm for luck. A blood red tattoo of a bear claw was clearly visible on his well-muscled bicep. It was the symbol of the Stone Bear Clan, one that he wore proudly. Crouching behind the hill using the trees as concealment, Zodd waited with his fellow clan members. They were far from their home of Freevale and they needed to be careful not be seen until they wanted to be seen.
As he saw movement down the road the barbarian grinned. Finally, their patience would pay off. His companions noticed the wagon heading towards them as well and readied themselves. It looked like a merchant wagon with only two guards, easy prey. When the wagon got close enough Zodd didn’t need to say anything or signal his rage brothers, they knew when to pounce. He enjoyed feeling the air rush past as he sprinted down the hill toward the practically defenseless wagon, drawing his greatsword on the way. As usual he had went without any armor so that he could move freely and quickly, but since today was Wednesday he had taken it a step further and had stripped down to just a loincloth. He was glad to see that many of his companions had joined him in the proud tradition and ran toward the wagon wearing only loincloths. With so little to burden them, the barbarians were upon the guards before they could draw their weapons.
Before Zodd had a chance to demand they disarm and hand over their goods, he saw to his surprise a group of men arriving from the other side of the road. Many of them had worn cloaks and mean looking weapons. Their ugly and unkempt faces clearly marked them as bandits. Apparently his band of barbarians were not the only predators that saw this spot of the road as a good place for an ambush. The merchant guards kept their hands in the air and watched as the barbarians and bandits eyed each other warily.
Zodd spoke up first,
“This is ours to take, you were too slow and arrived second.”
The bandit leader laughed,
“Well pardon me if we didn’t want to prance around naked like you lot.”
Knocking his knuckles against his breastplate the bandit adds,
“If there is fighting and dying to be done, I want some steel between me and my enemies to make sure I am not the one dying. Now why don’t you boys piss off and let us professionals take care of this?”
Zodd’s knuckles popped as his fists clenched his two handed sword,
“The great Bear spirit protects me, I will take that over your heavy steel clothes any day. We were here first, that makes this wagon ours to loot. You should leave before you experience the power of the Stone Bear Clan first hand.”
The bandit spits to the side and glares at the large barbarian,
“Alright you naked fool, we will just kill the lot of you and then loot the wagon. We could use a good workout anyway.”
With that the bandit pulls out a hand crossbow and fires it at Zodd.
Roars of rage blasted from the group of barbarians as they all let the battle rage take over. Zodd didn’t feel the crossbow bolt as it bit into his shoulder and was upon the bandit leader just as the other man was drawing his longsword. Zodd felt the strength of the Bear burning through his veins and with a mighty swing of his greatsword disarmed the bandit leader by cutting the bandit’s arm off at the elbow. The bandit leader only had a moment to stare at the blood pumping from his arm stump in stunned disbelief before Zodd removed his head from his body.
The barbarians and bandits were so busy trying to kill each other that none of them noticed as the merchant wagon and its two guards quickly exited the area.
As the rage wore off and Zodd returned to his senses he noticed that there were not very many of his barbarian brothers left standing, but there were no bandits alive that he could see. As they went about looting the corpses of the fallen a barbarian trotted up and said,
“The merchant wagon is too far away to reach now.”
Zodd shrugs,
“Fighting those bandits was more fun anyway. We have done our ancestors proud this day. The legend of Loincloth Wednesdays continues.”
Grickin's eyes slowly flutter open. The world is spinning—and not just because of the hangover.
He gives a little yelp as the rolling barrel bounces over a stump. Peeking outside, he sees that he is once again 'barreling' down the mountainside into Loincloth Pass.
Below, sharp rocks await. He knows from personal experience what they feel like. He looks up, seeing two vultures circling excitedly.
Well, I can't hold it against you, he thinks sourly. At least the meat never goes to waste. In a moment, he will most likely be dashed to smithereens.
He's never been quite sure who always rolls his barrel out here—for all he knows, it's his own drunken idea of a prank on himself—but sometimes it really makes him wish he had an actual bed. Death is no way to start the day.
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Goblin Squad Member
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He's never been quite sure who always rolls his barrel out here
Maybe it's these guys.
And then I will plant my flag atop the mountain, and it will be my kingdom.
