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So my new goblin character was raised by hippy half-elves. As such they having suffered racial prejudice raised him believing that goblins are just a victim of racial prejudice that's forced them to become the vicious monsters they are in order to survive. The father would collect stories of goblin heroes who broke societal molds and were good guys which the mother turned into epic songs (in honor of one of the good aspects of goblin culture). Most of these stories were made up, but a few were true. As such, I need your stories of goblin good guy characters. They don't have to be non-evil as long as they were fighting on the side of the angels. I'm gonna decide which ones were the real ones and which ones based on how much I like them but I'm pretty sure that unless I hate the story, then it'll be one that goes on a pamphlet. See Hasputh (my goblin) is the creator of the Goblin Temperance League, He goes from town to town with a large sign that reads "Don't shoot me! I'm a proud goblin citizen" and hands out pamphlets he made himself written with information about goblin citizens and each pamphlet has a different goblin story. That being said he does fly into a rage when people contradict him or make racist claims about goblins because he has no impulse control (a result of his hippy parents never disciplining him when he did crazy things because he was a "free spirit").
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Rolf was found as a baby goblin by a troop of traveling actors. They adopted him as a pet thinking it would be fun to have a viscous little goblin as a sort of guard goblin. But Rolf responded well to steady meals and relatively kind treatment and soon was regarded with genuine affection by the humans in the troop. They were delighted when they discovered Rolf imitating some of their stage roles.
Soon Rolf was on stage doing roles in comic relief. The audiences loved it and Rolf reveled in the attention. The troop master, an old bald, scarred ex-swashbuckler saw more in Rolf. At night, after the performances, he would fill Rolf's head with tales of derring-do and rescuing fair maidens from his old swashbuckling days. The troop master, with heavy doses of hair and make up, usually played the heroic lead. But as his health failed he suggested that Rolf take over his duties. Dressed in classic swashbuckler clothes with a flowing wig, mustache and goatee, Rolf was an instant success. Soon all Rolf dreamed about was derring-do and rescuing fair maidens.
The troop reached the end of its run in Absolom with the death of the old troop master. The other actors all went their separate ways but left Rolf with his swashbuckler outfit including the flowing blond wig, mustache and goatee, a real leather armor vest and rapier made from an old weapon of the troop master that they had a weapon smith cut down to fit Rolf.
In that great city it didn't take long for Rolf to put his dreams into action. He came upon a man roughly handling a young lady and refusing to pay her. Without a second thought Rolf jumped into the fray. The man was so surprised that he quickly let go of the lady and paid her. The young lady's employer saw what happened and hired Rolf on the spot. It didn't matter to Rolf that she practiced the worlds oldest profession; only that Rolf had an endless supply of maidens to rescue with deeds of derring-do. And he was getting paid real gold to do it, or at least copper and an occasional silver.
He was in goblin heaven.
It all came to an end when Rolf rescued one of his maidens from a man who fought back. Rolf wounded him slightly but the man was an official of the city watch so Rolf had to leave.
However, the fates weren't quite done with Rolf the swashbuckler. Shortly after leaving his employment he heard the sounds of a battle down an alley. Rushing to see what was happening, Rolf found a fellow warrior being accosted by a number of thugs. Dashing into to help a comrade, Rolf surprised and wounded the thug leader, routing the gang. The warrior turned out to be a pathfinder messenger on his way to the main lodge with important information. Too badly wounded to get there on his own, Rolf assisted the messenger to the lodge. While being treated in the entranceway of the lodge, the messenger recounted his assault and Rolf's rescue. After the messenger was carried away to the infirmary, 3 tall men stood glaring at Rolf, then at each other. Then a tall broad-shouldered heavily scarred man with a black beard and a booming voice yelled "Why the hell not!".
And that's how Rolf the Goblin swashbuckler became Rolf the Pathfinder.
Morag
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Peachsummers was a businessman and an entrepreneur. That's about it. No one cared to ask for more.
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"Uh,uh Tochack counts! Tochack not famous (for now...), but he follows the Very Pretty Lady With Hair On Fire! Every gobbo likes fire, yes? But setting someone on fire is bad, little gobbos! Don't be jerks, and praise the Sunflower!"
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(How about Hobgoblin stories?)
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Dagdag always knew he was a knight. All he had to do was let the rest of the world know. After much adventure and fighting against a diabolic cult, Dagdag finally got a chance to prove himself in a mounted tournament. And he won! Dagdag was finally knighted by the great city. But then a terrible dragon attacked the city. Everyone else was frightened of the dragon and attacked it with arrows and spells, but Dagdag was the bravest knight, and he charged right up the dragon's arm and stabbed it in the face! Everyone was very impressed by Dagdag's bravery, and a neat old man gave him a fancy hat. Later Dagdag's friends told him that the old man was the god Bahamut in disguise. Gods are funny sometimes.
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Things were fairly routine in the marsh. The goblins would spend their days flinging muck at each other, wrestling pigs, and playing hide or get clubbed. Which was all great fun of course but as a child Lob Figwit always wondered if there wasn't more out there. He would hear stories of how from time to time "heroes" would come into the marsh with their shinies and practically wipe out the whole tribe. While most feared these heroes and some would like to steal their things Lob listened good. The "heroes" always won. Thus he decided he would become one of them. But how?
Lob wanted to know more. During junk collecting trips to edge of the human town he would sometimes sneak off to eavesdrop at a local "tavern". He would hear great tales of adventure and many many shinies. The most revered of all were the paladins. He would dream of himself standing tall, surrounded by gold, and adored by the people like they were. This continued until one night he was spotted by a dog. The mad barking beast chased him away in a blind panic.
Once he settled down he realized he could never be a hero so long as dogs kept him away. So in a fit of pure madness he left the tribe and stole a puppy from on of the nearby farmsteads. He and the pup barely survived on their own but he was determined that he would learn not to fear the beasts and that they would learn to accept him. After a few years his plan seemed to work. Not only were they becoming the best friends but "Dog" even learned to let Lob ride him.
Lob knew the time was right. He had his trusty stead and he managed to patched together bits of scrap iron into a suit of armor. Though he wore a cauldron for a helmet and a small stove around his chest in his mind he was bedecked in shining mail. Thus he marched forth to the human town and boldly declared himself a hero. The guard was so confused and amused by this preposterous display that they decided not to dispatch him immediately.
and so Lob and his faithful companion Dog set forth on their valiant quest of heroing and earning lots of shinies. Unfortunately Lob doesn't quit understand what it means to be a hero and gets a little confused sometime. Often seeing trivial issues as epic quests and getting details mixed up. He generally means well though.
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"Don't worry king! We'll save your dragon from the evil princess!" Lob Figwit proclaiming to Mayor Kendra Deverin when asked if he could help with local goblin troubles.
Darn. Seems posts can't be edited after they're up for a few hours. I decided I wanted to rename my goblin character to Glim Figwit. Can't go back and change it now though. :/
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Skiritz was one of the Swampchaw tribe's "special" ones. For any other gob, it took dry wood scraps and lots of time to start fire. But Skiritz could make fire any time he wanted! He didn't even need dry wood or anything! He got real good at it to. He could snap his fingers and light a torch or a bonfire, or if he really put his back into it he could make a big explosion of fire and burn everything in front of him! One time he saved his whole tribe from a wagonload of books that way. All the Swampchaw's loved having Skiritz along on raids or revels.
One night he got separated from his friends in a heavy thunderstorm. The rain put out the torches faster than even he could light them, so he took shelter in a cave to wait it out. Inside the cave, he heard some voices. They were talking in Humantalk, but Skiritz knew a little of that. He knew they were complaining because they had no fire. Well! Skiritz knew he was about to make some new friends then! Everybody loved Skiritz once he gave them some fire.
He walked right up to his new friends and said "You want fire? Skiritz give you fire!" He snapped his fingers and the pathetic pile of wood scraps his new friends had gathered became a hearty bonfire! It lit up the entire cave, and now Skiritz saw that his new friends were (gasp!) GNOMES?!
But it didn't matter. Skiritz knew everybody loved him when he gave them fire. And he was right! His new gnome friends weren't nearly as bad as the ones that had tried to drive the Swampchaws out of the marsh. They shared their rum with him, and he showed them his "fire-breathing dragon" trick. They told him they were Pathfinders. Skiritz had found all the paths in the marsh, and he knew the other Swampchaws wouldn't like his new friends, so he offered to help them. It turns out that the path they found lead a lot further than just out of the swamp. It led to old ruins, and through human cities, and across an ocean! And always his new friends found plenty of things for Skiritz to set on fire. He got real good at it too! And he met other people-- humans and gnomes and elves-- who could make fire as good as he could. One of them taught him how to conjure a fire with a mind of its own! They called it an "elemental". Skiritz called it Crackly.
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So Hasputh's parents trained him to love the non-corrosive aspects of goblin culture, Hasputh always uses either a dogslicer or a horsechopper which are traditional goblin weapons that represent their ingenuity with scrap metal. They encourage him to make cobbled items so every item in his possession is cobbled, because this shows goblins crafty skills and ability to re-purpose what others would throw away wastefully as junk (i did say that they were hippies). He tells stories via song, including all of his hero stories because as his mother says, "songs are the universal language, you don't have to speak the same language to appreciate a good song and goblins know this better than any other race."
I'm also building him to be highly mobile, with barbarian and fighter levels, he has a base speed of 40 and he's going to have the spring attack tree as well as roll with it and vital strike so that he doesn't loose out on damage. He'll never be in the same place in a round.
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Poog i like the first person perspective, but am having a little trouble following it, can you tell it like a third person story, cause that's how he would put it in his pamphlets.
and i love the idea of a goblin in full swashbuckling attire with a curly blonde wig and mustache, I think that would make a great tatoo :)
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My one goblin character didn't have a very comprehensive backstory, but I had fun explaining his equipment and class features. Thakus's holy symbol was a tavern coaster he'd found, and he just assumed it was a god he'd never heard of. Someone up there must've taken pity on him, because he kept receiving spells every day. A voice in his head once told him that if he cut off his right foot, he could throw the bones on the ground to form a skeleton. To his (and everyone else's) surprise, it worked. He called the skeleton Minion, and carried his foot-bones in a pouch around his neck.
He was an oracle of bones with the Lame curse.
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My one goblin character didn't have a very comprehensive backstory, but I had fun explaining his equipment and class features. Thakus's holy symbol was a tavern coaster he'd found, and he just assumed it was a god he'd never heard of. Someone up there must've taken pity on him, because he kept receiving spells every day. A voice in his head once told him that if he cut off his right foot, he could throw the bones on the ground to form a skeleton. To his (and everyone else's) surprise, it worked. He called the skeleton Minion, and carried his foot-bones in a pouch around his neck.
He was an oracle of bones with the Lame curse.
That's hillarious
That's amazing, Sodium!
Gip is but a simple goblin roaming the Underdark. One day, Gip just walking, then Gip hanging downside up in cage! Stupid white hairs think they had caught Gip, but no, gets drow baby* to help Gip escape. Help get dark dwarf, fetch fetch** and pale hair*** out too.
Gip get to town after killing cloaked thing, crawl up to awful awful and scribble them out. Guards come, Gip in trouble?
"Gip is saving souls!"
Just leaving this here: Goblins webcomic.
There's also the pathfinder goblins comic series..
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Contributor, RPG Superstar 2010 Top 8
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This is The Ugly
That's not his real name (he doesn't have a name), but enough people called him ugly that it stuck.
I made him back when Legacy of Fire came out. We had a group of 3 for that campaign: A Paladin (the Good), an insane Warlock (the Bad), and The Ugly.
He was originally a 4E Ranger (the GM was converting that AP to 4E, since PFRPG wasn't out yet). Later, when Paizo made an actual Gunslinger class, I converted him over, but only got to play a few games with him.
Had an interesting game in which the characters' hometown was attacked by a number of minor fiends.
After repelling the attack, the PCs (not having the proper knowledge skills to have any idea what the attacking creatures were) went on a red herring side quest into the "Goblin Wood" nearby. Knowing that goblins made regular raids on their town, they got to thinking that maybe they had begun to step up their game with some kind of transformative magic.
The small forest, being infested with goblins, it wasn't long before they came upon a patrol of six of the green-skinned miscreants. Knowing that they couldn't hope to sneak up on them with the dwarven paladin in full plate, the party split up. The sorcerer and fighter flanked the goblins while the paladin moved straight in as a distraction/bait.
In mere moments the dwarf had become surrounded by the little goblins, who were all pulling their loaded bow strings (except for one who seemed to have forgotten his arrows at home--though he still pulled his bowstring back very threateningly).
The goblins began to discuss whether or not they should eat him and in what manner. The thing was, the dwarf could not speak goblin, but the flanking characters could. It went something like this:
G1: Should we eat him?
G2: Yes. Look at me. I'm just wasting away.
G3 (no arrows): Maybe we should take him back to the chieftain?
G4: *shoots G3 dead* Nope. We're going to eat him. I'm hungry!
G5: But I don't like dwarf! They're too tough and get stuck in my teeth.
G6: Should we boil him in a pot?
G1: No. Let's roast him on a spic!
G2: How about we...
At that point the two flankers moved in cutting down two of the goblins while the dwarf cut down another. G6 responds by dropping his bow, quickdrawing his shortsword, hamstringing G5 and bolting into the trees to hide.
The party sorcerer blasted G6 dead with a magic missile as it tried to hide behind a tree far too narrow to conceal it. Then the dwarf smashed the ham-stringed goblin with the broadside of his axe, knocking it out with nonlethal damage.
The party tied it up and healed it back to consciousness. Due to his battered face, they opted to name it "Squishy."
The poor goblin came to, saw that he was surrounded and simply began screaming...and screaming...and screaming until the sorcerer jammed a dirt clod into its mouth causing it to choke. Squishy spit out the dirt and in rapid-goblin-speak begged, "Please don't eat me! I'm small! And all skin and bone! Possums are much better eating! I can show you where a family of them live so long as you promise not to eat me!
Fighter: (in goblin) Shut up. We're not going to eat you.
Squishy: *begins to cry* Please don't hurt me! I didn't want to eat you! I didn't want to eat anybody!
Fighter: We just want to ask you a few questions.
Squishy: Quest-ons? (clearly not understanding the meaning of the word)
Fighter: *sighs* We want to talk to you.
Squishy: *begins to perk up* Oh? Talk? Yes. Yes. I can do that! I'm good at talk! Did you know there is a family of yum-yum possum over the...
Sorcerer: Shut up. Do you know of any red, horned creatures with wings and barbed tails? (describing the fiends that attacked the town)
Squishy: Oh yes. Yes I do.
Fighter: Where are they?
Squishy: There's one right there *points past the PCs*
*Party spins around drawing weapons ready for another fight, only to see a harmless bird up on a tree branch*
Squishy: Yep-yep. That one's got wings. There's also rams with horns by the big rocks, porcupines in the burrows with barbs, and...
Fighter: Shut up. *sighs* That's not what we meant. Can you at least tell us where your tribe is at? Maybe your chieftain can tell us something?
Squishy: Yes.
Fighter: How far away is your tribe?
Squishy: *thinks hard, which seems painful* That way! *points*
Fighter: But how far? If we walked that way how many times would the sun pass overhead before we reached him?
Squishy: five-four-seven-two-eleventy-one...?
Sorcerer: He clearly can't count.
Fighter: Don't know what I was thinking with that one.
Sorcerer: If you take us to your tribe, I will give you wings like that bird.
Squishy: *beaming with joy and hopping excitedly despite being tied down* Really!? Really really!? I've always wanted to be a bird! They're so yummy!
Sorcerer: Yes. I shall grant you wings so you can be a bird. Lead the way.
*The party unties Squishy and puts him in a Gollum-like rope harness.*
[Squishy and the party survive a few random encounters]
A few hours later, the party of four come across a tribe of goblins, which ambush them from the ground and from the treetops with their deadly arrows.
Before many can respond the sorcerer blasted a third of the goblin archers out of the trees with a well-placed fireball.
Two goblin dogs rushed out of the brush and flanked the dwarf while the fighter returned fire taking out many of the treetop snipers.
Many of the enemy goblins attempted to shoot Squishy (shouting "traitor!" and "I never liked him anyways!"), all of whom missed due to poor rolls. Squishy shouted back "Not this again guys! Don't ya know you can't hit me?" --obviously oblivious to the fact that his tribesmen were trying to kill him (again).
Many of the goblins on the ground swarmed the dwarf paladin, but none could get through his full plate or past his shield--so one of them through feces into his visor, blinding him long enough for them to get a few good shots in. A few goblins grabbed burning branches that had caught from the fireball and threw them back at the sorcerer, taunting all the while. Another goblin attacked the fighter by pushing his comrade out of a tree and onto the fighter's head below.
A minute later, all of the goblins were dead (except for Squishy) and the PCs searched the bodies for clues as to how they might have brought about minor fiends (such as spell components). By the time they had finished (finding nothing) Squishy had come out from behind a tree with his rope harness having been modified to fit a tree branch and several goblin bones that now stuck out of either side of it. From this wide frame hung several palm fronds, making it look like an extremely crude set of wings.
"I took you to friends so now I can fly now! Yes?" Squishy screamed excitedly.
"Yes, yes you can fly now." *sorcerer casts the fly spell on Squishy and lets him go*
Squishy takes off soaring through the air with loud "wheeeees" and "whooooohoooooos" and "hahahahahah! I'm a bird!"
When the spells duration was near its end, the PCs began to encourage squishy to fly higher and higher, until he was but a tiny dot in the sky. Then the spell ended.
Squishy was so high up, the soft fall effect ended long before he made it to the ground. He fell straight through the forest canopy (screaming in joy the entire way), broke his neck on a tree branch, and got caught in several vines, becoming suspended forever more like some kind of ugly bird flying through the trees (with a broken wing).
The party gave up on their red herring and moved on.
The side quest made quite an impression on my players, so I wanted to share it with you. Squishy the bird goblin and the s+@+-faced dwarf, in particular, will be remembered for a LONG time to come in our group me thinks.
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I feel so bad for squishy, the betrayal I want to turn them into the proper authorities.
Another example of the might makes right and a human-centric society unfairly slaughtering an entire tribe off of nothing but unfounded suspicion. They're all horrible murderers who should be brought to justice!
I feel so bad for squishy, the betrayal I want to turn them into the proper authorities.
Another example of the might makes right and a human-centric society unfairly slaughtering an entire tribe off of nothing but unfounded suspicion. They're all horrible murderers who should be brought to justice!
In the case of Squishy, I agree. The rest wanted to eat them or tried to kill them first. But yeah, they were really s!@!ty to Squishy.
Anywho, not a character I've played yet, but I've been wanting to play the intelligent and knowledable scribbleface, Banished scholar of the Bird cruncher tribe I believe.
This is a story I wrote for a character I played as well as one of my friend's--we wrote our backstories together.
Tugmill is a goblin born into a heritage of witch doctors. At a young age, he studied under the witch doctor of the Snaptongue Tribe—an elderly goblin named Hugdud. Hugdud taught Tugmill the fundamentals of being a goblin witchdoctor which was wrapped up in one basic concept: enhance the image of the chief. Tugmills study of arcane magic equipped him to make his tribal chief—chief Brudewan—stronger, bigger and harder to kill in his duels. The tribe warriors made an event of capturing vicious foes for the chief to battle in their crude arena. Tugmill and Hugdud always made sure the chief won.
This primitive use of his power fostered a resentment in Tugmill. He was born naturally intuitive and curious, and Hugdud was unwilling to teach him anything beyond what was needed for their one task. Tugmill was enraged—and when the next fight was announced, the young goblin magician saw it as his way out. Dragged into the arena by goblin warriors was a demon. A small, curious looking demon lacking the ferocity that filled the tales of his kind. It was immediately clear that it had been drugged or beaten or both. Chief Brudewan confidently entered the arena with the grin of a combatant who had already won. This time, however, Tugmill used his skills to even the fight. He granted the demon resolve with his magic—enhancing its confidence and subsiding the effects of its previous treatment. Its exhaustion turned to anger, and as it turned toward the Goblin Chief responsible, Brudewans small body became even smaller. The goblin chief—which stood about 3 feet of the ground normally—shrank to the size of a large rat. The demon smashed Brudewan with a firm stomp. Fear and screaming filled the arena, and the victors’ enraged growls scared away any further engagements. As it fled the goblin encampment, Tugmill followed.
Outside the tribal lands, Tugmill took a great risk. Hiding in the shadows, he blinded the creature from a distance and shrunk him as he had done the chief. He then stepped into its path, holding a crude dagger. The small demon growled and Tugmill made his introduction. The two of them sat at standoff for a few tense moments. They discovered a mutual knowledge of the language common…. And the risky introduction eased up as the spells wore off and Tugmill sheathed his weapon.
Tugmill learned that this creature—named Sandor—was not a demon at all. Though he looked it, he was a member of the Tiefling species. He was never fully accepted by any society and spent most of his time outside of it, using his blade and his wit to adventure and to prove himself. Tugmill shared his own story as well and requested to adventure with him. After Tugmill’s involvement in the arena, Sandor could not refuse him.
**Alignment and Ideology:**
Chaotic Good—The duo both seek adventure and excitement outside laws or customs, but as an underlying and driving force they believe in the freedom of all sentient creatures to choose their own destinies. As such, they have no respect for the belief of fate or direction common in religion or for any society which honors nobility and family over personal merit. Slavery and even servant-hood also disgust the adventurers. This puts them at odds with powerful beings, which is how it has always been for them and how they prefer it.
**Combat Strategy:**
The offensive combat strategy for the two involves utilizing Tugmill’s stealth, then Sandors might enhanced by Tugmills magic. Most engagements initiated by the two will involve Tugmill looking for a sneak attack with his crossbow or his daggers. Then Sandor will engage with all his melee might and be boosted by spells such as Mage Armor or Enlarge Person. Late in the fight, Tugmill can use his crossbow (though it takes a full round action to reload) or his thrown daggers. In engagements with a large number of enemies, Tugmill usually kills what he can and hides or fights defensively.
On the reaction side, if the pair were surprised, Tugmill would open up with Mudball (which blinds the target) and then focus entirely on Sandor, using enlarge person and ward (a hex) to boost his abilities. Sandor would almost certainly go into rage and utilize all his stacked bonuses to kill numerous and fierce enemies while protecting Tugmill.
Very nice. I like.
Dotting.
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I feel so bad for squishy, the betrayal I want to turn them into the proper authorities.
Another example of the might makes right and a human-centric society unfairly slaughtering an entire tribe off of nothing but unfounded suspicion. They're all horrible murderers who should be brought to justice!In the case of Squishy, I agree. The rest wanted to eat them or tried to kill them first. But yeah, they were really s+@@ty to Squishy.
Anywho, not a character I've played yet, but I've been wanting to play the intelligent and knowledable scribbleface, Banished scholar of the Bird cruncher tribe I believe.
So they tresspassed, and that's okay, so if I were to just come into your home with no explanation you'd be okay with that? (Btw if it isn't obvious I'm speaking as Hasputh)
So they tresspassed, and that's okay, so if I were to just come into your home with no explanation you'd be okay with that? (Btw if it isn't obvious I'm speaking as Hasputh)I feel so bad for squishy, the betrayal I want to turn them into the proper authorities.
Another example of the might makes right and a human-centric society unfairly slaughtering an entire tribe off of nothing but unfounded suspicion. They're all horrible murderers who should be brought to justice!In the case of Squishy, I agree. The rest wanted to eat them or tried to kill them first. But yeah, they were really s+@@ty to Squishy.
Anywho, not a character I've played yet, but I've been wanting to play the intelligent and knowledable scribbleface, Banished scholar of the Bird cruncher tribe I believe.
They started by going into a forest, not something I'd call trespassing, they then went to a VILLAGE, again not something I'd call trespassing. Not to mention big difference with squishy since they had somebody who knew for a fact squishy didn't want to eat them, unless he's just racist and think they all look alike.
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They went deliberately into goblin territory armed to the teeth and with a hostage, if a bunch of goblins walked into a human village armed to the teeth, and with a human hostage how long do you think it would be before they were attacked? I got shot at when I was completely unarmed walking up a road to the town so forgive me if I think the goblins might have been erring on the side of caution, did the group fly a white flag of truce or make it known they were coming to talk, no they just strode pleased as punch into the town covered in goblin blood with a hostage. Now the party that squishy was a part of, I understand justifiable self defense they did intend to eat him, but their actions from that point forward would be unconscionable if it was a halfling village in halfling territory!
So they should walk in unarmed and unarmored when the last group of goblins FROM THIS TRIBE tried to eat them? Sorry, not seeing it, and nobody was threatening anyone, and it even says they ambushed the party... sorry, not feeling especially benevolent towards a bunch of cannibalistic maniacs. Nor the party mind you, they were dicks to squishy.
A goblin fighter I created.
The old quandry faced by many a good adventurer. You just slaughtered a goblin horde but what the hell do you do with the childeren. Yeah sure they are just babies but they are goblins. Can they be redeemed or is it best to leave them to their fate? Well this insane little fellow is the product of a kind hearted paladin taking the goblin child to a church of Iomedae. He doesn't know his true name but "Get the hell outta the way numbnuts!" was often yelled at him at the temple. He spent the majority of his day cleaning the floors and doing other minor tasks for the clergy but during is downtime he would go watch the paladins train. He started mimiking what he saw and now considers himself a paladin of the "good god who hates dogs and horses I can't recall the name but I'm pretty sure there is one.".
Paladin abilities
detect evil- flip a coin head -good, tails-evil, unless dog or horse then always evil. other method spin a bottle where it points- evil
lay on hands-slap a bandaid on
smite evil-swing weapon with both hands
channel positive energy-throw glitter in the air
turn undead-grapple and physically try to turn it around
Interesting character, but how old was it when it got sent to the temple, was it literally a baby? Also, they're not lacking in intelligence. I'd say the fear of horses and dogs is a cultural thing and might not come up with a baby raised in the church...
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Bhijo was a glutton, even by goblin standards. He ate everything that wasn't nailed down, and he usually ate the nails too. His dream was to eat an entire farm's worth of food in one raid-- the whole crop harvest, every pig, every cow, everything. He knew he could never do it, but some nights he'd have wonderful dreams about it.
One day he discovered a wagonload of watermelons. The farmers driving it were dead-- they'd been pincushioned full of arrows by raiders. The raiders had taken all the stuff THEY thought was valuable, but left the melons and the dead farmers. Bhijo climbed up into the wagon and gorged himself for hours, until his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed from exhaustion.
In his food stupor, he had a vision. Urgathoa, the goddess of gluttony and undeath, came to him and blessed him. She called him her favored disciple, and told Bhijo that his devotion to her sphere had allowed her to send the world a miracle.
When Bhijo awoke, he noticed that the dead farmers were gone. There were tracks leading away from the wagon, and when he followed them he saw the miracle. The farmers, and several other dead humans, and gotten back up and were marching to the nearby human village! Bhijo was amazed at the sight-- dozens and dozens of humans, staggering down the road, their clothes and armor in tatters, showing their gray, bloated meat underneath. Bhijo imagined how tender they must be-- the meat was practically falling off the bone! His appetite came back with a vengeance, and he said a small prayer to Urgathoa, thanking her for this bounty.
By the time the zombies had reached the main gate into the village, Bhijo had eaten nearly all of them. Some humans in heavy armor came out with maces and bashed the remaining zombies into the ground, which Bhijo was thankful for, since he'd been getting too full to chase them down himself. As he gnawed the meat off of the last one, he began to pass out again, but not before he saw the humans with maces look down at him, awestruck. Soon, their faces were replaced by that of Urgathoa appearing to him again.
That was over a century ago, and that village still tells the story of that brave goblin, who sacrificed his life to save them from a horde of zombies only to die of dysentery a few hours later.
By the time the zombies had reached the main gate into the village, Bhijo had eaten nearly all of them. Some humans in heavy armor came out with maces and bashed the remaining zombies into the ground, which Bhijo was thankful for, since he'd been getting too full to chase them down himself. As he gnawed the meat off of the last one, he began to pass out again, but not before he saw the humans with maces look down at him, awestruck. Soon, their faces were replaced by that of Urgathoa appearing to him again.
That was over a century ago, and that village still tells the story of that brave goblin, who sacrificed his life to save them from a horde of zombies only to die of dysentery a few hours later.
See I really thought somebody was going to have to remind you this was supposed to be heroic, well done with the mind f*$#.
We were dividing treasure, "goblin style".....
Bucko was counting it out and including a share for the goblin king.
The counting went, one, one, one, one; one,two, two, two, two, one, two, three, three, three, three......you get the idea.
While I was giving myself more coins.....ninja was stealing coins from barbarians pile, and kings pile as fast as possible.....
Then the barbarian claimed the kings share for safe keeping......
I have no idea who ended up with what.....but everyone laughed.
It is recorded somewhere on the secret goblin play-by-post here on paizo....
Can't really argue, Bhijo is kind of awesome.
So Spittmouff wwas a goblin barbarian, whose goal in life was to become the leader of his own horde and rescue the enslaved goblins of a Chitterwood from their hobgoblin slavers. He had huge muttonchops infested with spiders that he'd pull out from time to time and munch of him. His other goal was to get bitten by a werewolf and become a goblin-werewolf much to chagrin of the party. He one time slugged it out with a hobgoblin commander and killed him with his barehands, only to get his leg caught in a beartrap, and with limited time the group carried him away with the beartrap still attached to his leg.
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Chuzzle (given name Specimen 63) was lovingly raised in a small wire cage by an alchemist who maintained a small laboratory south of the Nettlewood. The chuzzle and burble and glub and hiss of many simmering cauldrons, the drip-drip-drip of alembics distilling, and the occasional KABOOOM of explosions were the songs of his youth.
Specimen 63 grew quickly, as all goblins do, fed a steady diet of whatever delicious experiments the Master chose to give him and vegetables from the garden. Their interactions increased when the Specimen showed, as the notes of his Master reflected, "a remarkable resistance to most local toxins," and "surprisingly advanced problem-solving skills." Specimen 63 came to revere the Master as a protector and provider, and attempted to assist him however the Master would allow, even being granted limited liberty to tend the fires in the labs and harvest ingredients from the nearby woods. The Master taught the Specimen both common and goblin and even began tutoring Specimen 63 in rudimentary alchemy, considering the resilient little gobbo as a sort of mascot.
This idyllic life ended when the Master was struck down by the vicious Thistletop Goblins. Before they were able to "liberate" the distraught Specimen 63, he was able to scoop up many of the Master's prized possessions (his alchemy formulaery and his most rare and potent reagents) and then the Thistletop Goblins spirited him back through the Nettlewood. Their return to the keep coincided with the arrival of the Heroes of Sandpoint, and Specimen 63 was able to use the ensuing combat to explode his way to freedom.
Since that time, Chuzzle (as he chose to name himself after his favorite cauldron's signature sound) has striven to live up to the example set by the Master, including maintaining a strict vegetarian diet, and only exploding people and things who need to be exploded. Although strange and somewhat macabre (Chuzzle's lonely upbringing has made him very fond of holding conversations with inanimate objects, like skulls and corpses), he nevertheless remains an endearing and valuable companion to the Heroes. His rendition of his song "Secret Chuzzle: Not a Gobbo" was a hit in the Rusty Dragon for several weeks after his initial performance.
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I like Chuzzle he will definitely be given an entry in the pamphlets.
Goblins going in pamphlets so far
Rolph: Goblin of daring do's
Glim Figwit: Goblin knight
Skiritz: the Gnome's firestarter
Get the hell out of the way numbnuts!: Paladin of the dog and horse hating god
Gunn and Bob: Partners
Goblin who's name was lost to time (Bhijo): Sacrificial hero
Chuzzle: Enlightened experiment
keep em coming they've all been great so far!
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So I'm 2-for-2 so far. Nice! Let's see if I can pull off the hat trick.
Greex was one of the bravest warriors of the Mongrelheart tribe. Nobody was half as good in the saddle of a goblin dog as he was. He was so good at riding, he once leapt off of his gobdog onto the back of a human riding a horse, threw the human to the ground, and managed to ride the horse for a few minutes. He honestly thought that if the Mongrelheart tribe ever fell, he'd fall with it, his feet in the stirrups and his hands on his horsechopper. He never could have imagined how it ended up happening.
The raid came in the middle of the night. Greex was dead asleep when the warning horn blew, and by the time he understood what was happening it was too late. The invaders had already snuck past the watch, silently killed almost half the tribe's fighting force, and were now burning down the fortress. Greex stepped out of his tent, armor half-donned, and saw that the stables were already smoldering, and his steed was surely dead.
Greex was afraid, but oddly, he wasn't angry. He'd never seen so much fire in his life. It was beautiful. What goblin wouldn't want this to be his last sight? He was happy that the invaders had at least given his tribe a proper goblin's death. But this wasn't his last sight, nor was it the most beautiful thing he'd see tonight.
In a relatively unburned clearing, he saw his tribe's destroyer in brilliant light. She was shaped like a human woman, but she was no human. She was fire given life. Skin as fair as ashen logs, eyes glowing like embers, a bonfire of hair. She was the fire's source and its soul. She held out a hand and a gout of fire surged forth and consumed one of Greex's tribemates. Greex was ashamed that the gobs he called kin would try to fight such a perfect creature. They ought to be falling to their knees worshiping it!
From behind the goddess, an elf appeared. Greex scowled. The elf fiddled with something in a large satchel, then threw a bottle at another goblin. The bottle exploded in fire, a different color of fire that looked ugly compared to Her Fire. A few humans also appeared. Greex understood now. They were pretenders, disciples of... Her. They were students of Fire, and She was the master. He knew now what he had to do.
There as just enough unburned ground between him and Her for Greex to cautiously approach. He was scared, and his mouth was dry. He expected Her to immolate him as soon as she lay eyes on him, and wasn't sure he didn't want Her to, but She didn't. She stopped, a quizzical look on Her face. Greex was the first goblin who hadn't charged the group, weapon in hand. Greex slowly approached, a look of awe on his face, and She watched him, wondering what he would do. He dropped to his knees in supplication. As a pup, the tribe's old shaman had taught him a few words of the Language of Fire, and now he struggled to recall the words.
"Your fire is beautiful." Greex said, in the clearest Ignan as he could over its roar.
"What?" She asked, half-laughing.
"It's beautiful. You bring so much fire. Thank you." Greex's eyes began to water, from emotion as much as smoke, but he could still see Her smile as he passed out, and he felt a smile of his own spread across his face.
Greex woke up tied to a tree. Her and her followers were standing over him, puzzling. Eventually the elf, in surprisingly fluent Goblin, started asking him questions about who he was, and what he wanted. He answered as best as he could, that he was the best mounted warrior of his tribe and that he loved Fire, like any gob should, and that he saw how much his captors liked it too. He was sad that She wasn't doing the talking, and directed most of his answers at Her. He even tried to answer in Ignan, when he could.
Eventually they let him go, and told him who they were: a band of mercenaries and treasure-hunters. She said her name was Kaedesha, called herself a sorcerer, and an "Ifrit". She spoke of the efreeti, a magical people from the Plane of Fire, to whom she traced her lineage. Greex now understood-- she was no goddess, but a princess of the land of Fire, banished from her homeland and searching for a new land to burn her birthright into. She laughed and asked Greex to join her band.
For years afterwards, Greex followed Kaedesha as faithfully as a knight follows a lord. When Kaedesha complained of the gobdogs' dander, Greex chose instead to break a boar to the saddle. When Kaedesha set her sights on a prize, Greex would ride down any who stood in her way and bask in Her warmth afterwards.
Greex didn't die in his saddle, or in a fire. He died in a temple healer's bed, Her hand in his, as She retold all their tales of bravery and heroics to the clergy, Greex's hand in Hers and a tear in Her eye.
I imagine Greex as an Order of the Lion Cavalier, if that matters. Probably Beast Rider archetype, unless you think goblin dogs and boars are standard choices for a goblin Cavalier.
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Yep, I think you probably pulled off the hat trick with him.
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So I'm 2-for-2 so far. Nice! Let's see if I can pull off the hat trick.
** spoiler omitted **...
Reviving this thread because I am finally playing the character (the original game he was created for never got going)
and no, I don't need class specifics, because these stories are being told 2nd hand by a person in the world, (thus class levels don't exist as a concept)