Baldwin the Merciful's: We Be Goblins (Inactive)

Game Master baldwin the merciful

We be Lick toads! We make raid!
Put the longshank s to the blade!♫ ♪♫
Burn them up from feet to head,
Mak e them hurt, then make them dead!♫
Cut the parents into ham,
Smush the babies into jam,
All the rest in pot get stewed,
We be Lick toads - you be food!
♪ ♪ ♪ ♫

A We Be Goblins Adventure Addyv'nture.


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"This b'mighty Lick Toad tribe home."

Village Map


Male Goblin Rogue 1 | HP 10/10 | AC 18/15/14 | Init +4 | Perc +3 | CMB +1 CMD 15
Quote:
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Male Goblin Alchemist: 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC:17 T:15 FF:13 | CMB +0 | CMD:12 | Fort: +5 Ref: +6 Will:-1 | Init: +4 | Perc: +3

Could use some more red...and orange. I can help."


Male Goblin Cleric 1, Hp: 8/8, Initiative: +2, Perception +2, CMB: +0, CMD: 12

...


Male Goblin Bard 1; HP 10/10; AC 17 T 13 FF 15; Fort +1; Ref +4; Will +2; Init +6; Per +8; CMB -1; CMD 11; Spd 30 ft.

;P


You are goblins of the Licktoad tribe, who live deep in Brinestump Marsh, south of the hated man-town called Sandpoint. Once, other goblins tried to burn Sandpoint down, and they would have been legends if they had succeeded. But they didn’t bring enough fire, and got themselves killed as a result.

Yesterday, your tribe discovered that one of your own had been using forbidden arts and was engaged in one of the greatest of taboos—writing things down. In fact, rumor holds that what he was writing was a history of your tribe! There’s no swifter way to bring about bad luck than stealing words out of your mind by writing them down, and so your tribe had no choice. You branded the goblin’s face with letters to punish him, which is why everyone calls him Scribbleface now, and then you ran him out of town, took all of his stuff, and burned down his hut.

That’s where things got interesting, because before you all burned down his hut, Chief Gutwad found a weird box within the building. Inside was a map and a lot of fireworks—fireworks that immediately came to use in burning the hut down. Then, this morning, Gutwad announced that tonight there would be a feast in order to drive out any lingering bad luck from
Scribbleface’s poor decisions. But perhaps even more exciting, all of you have been secretly invited to meet at Chief Gutwad’s Moot House.

Why would the chief want to speak to you? It can only mean that he’s got an important mission for you all... one that the other goblins of the tribe couldn’t pull off. This could be your chance to go down in
Licktoad history!

Give me a few minutes to get your maptool tokens in order. Teeth Biter is that the toke you plan to use?


Male Goblin Rogue 1 | HP 10/10 | AC 18/15/14 | Init +4 | Perc +3 | CMB +1 CMD 15

Zunk scratches at the part of his belly flopping out from underneath his armor, yawning and causing his double chin to quiver. He stirs his pot of stew, dropping some crushed green herbs in with a wide grin. He sips at the stew, nodding in approval. He fills a bowl up with the stew, then takes the pot and sits down to noisily drink his dinner.

Craft (cooking): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21


As Zunk settles in with his pot of stew Toe Lickin' Slorb walks up and kicks dirt in the stew pot, "Mighty chief want you....you wait outside h's palace. I's goes git others."


Male Goblin Rogue 1 | HP 10/10 | AC 18/15/14 | Init +4 | Perc +3 | CMB +1 CMD 15

Hah, I pretty much asked for that.

Zunk's eyes bulge in rage, but the threat of an angry chief keeps him from lashing out. He miserably grabs the bowl that was saved, heading over to the chief.


Male Goblin Bard 1; HP 10/10; AC 17 T 13 FF 15; Fort +1; Ref +4; Will +2; Init +6; Per +8; CMB -1; CMD 11; Spd 30 ft.

Sparque watches Slorb lollop off, peering from the shadows, like he has seen Zunk do.

He pops out of his "hiding place" as the large goblin ambles past.

"Raaaahr.!!! Wot fink Zunk? Sparque guud hyde? Then he looks at the ruined provender in Zunks grubby claws.

"Urk. You kook fud? Careful. Yu end up like Scribbleface!" he says conversationally as they head to see Gutwad.


After kicking the dirt in Zunk's stew Slorb pulls out a mouse tail from his pocket; he begins to floss the large gap between his front teeth. He lets out a stinky gaseous fart and his eyes begins to water. "Need to find runt Biter and sticky fing'r M'murch." He puts one knobby finger to his nostril and forces snot out as he walks away. The mouse tail still between his teeth.


Male Goblin Bard 1; HP 10/10; AC 17 T 13 FF 15; Fort +1; Ref +4; Will +2; Init +6; Per +8; CMB -1; CMD 11; Spd 30 ft.

Sparque tests the mucus effluvium recently ejected from Slorb's fell nostril with the tip of his longsword.

"Slorb bin eatin dung agen. Mogmurch's most prob'ly." he grins thinking his comment is the height of hilarity.


Male Goblin Alchemist: 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC:17 T:15 FF:13 | CMB +0 | CMD:12 | Fort: +5 Ref: +6 Will:-1 | Init: +4 | Perc: +3

There is a whooshing sound as Slorb's backside gets lit up with fire from his own intense fart. A goblin in a skull mask, an eye patch anda pair of stained and scratched spectacles (its a wonder he can even see) stands behind Slorb with a lit stick from Zunk's stew. He laughs maniacally at Slorb's flaming rear. "I is here. Burning your rear. HAHAHA"


Human Warpriest (cult leader) of Besmara 7 / HP 52 of 52 / F+6 R+6 W+9 / AC 23.19.15 / Init. +4 / Perc +12

Freigaar's arrival is preceded by loud metallic clangs. With each step, the scales of his armor crash against each other, a sound that, as the Licktoads have learned, arrives shortly before avery, very ugly sight. The barbarian arrives dragging a large axe in one hand, leaving a trail in the dirt. He walks up to the front of the moot house pushing all the other goblins to the side. "Freigaar come, move, move, out of way! This here Freigaar's spot", he proclaims stomping one feet and splashing stew all over. He looks at the others with menacing eyes. "No funny looks, Freigaar knocks your teeth off if chief says so!"


"I should fear you in the rear." The Chieftain's adviser groans as he rolls on the ground putting his jerkin out. He rolls around kicking up dirt, which goes flying into the fat goblins stew. Sputtering and wiggling he finally manages to say, 'Git to Chiefy's palace...he has job."


Male Goblin Alchemist: 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC:17 T:15 FF:13 | CMB +0 | CMD:12 | Fort: +5 Ref: +6 Will:-1 | Init: +4 | Perc: +3

*Zoidburg sound* Mogmurch takes runs a serpentine pattern but heads in the general direction of the "palace". Cause let's be honest, its a house with no roof. Or a tent. Mogmurch stops. "Which way is palace?"


"The moon and sun palace w'th the sky view." Of course rain, hail, snow, sleet, birds, and bugs can come inside too, but that's only incidental to the fact that he has the palace and you don't.


Human Warpriest (cult leader) of Besmara 7 / HP 52 of 52 / F+6 R+6 W+9 / AC 23.19.15 / Init. +4 / Perc +12

Freigaar throws his head back, holds his belly and laughs disdainfully at Mogmurch's question. "Bwa-hahahuah you puny skullhead not friends with chief, never go to palace! Freigaar is friends, will lead the way!" He immediately starts marching towards chief Gutwad's house, except in the opposite direction.


Male Goblin Alchemist: 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC:17 T:15 FF:13 | CMB +0 | CMD:12 | Fort: +5 Ref: +6 Will:-1 | Init: +4 | Perc: +3

The house with no roof. Got it *Continues Zoidburg sound*

Chief just make you fat to bait stinky dogs."


Human Warpriest (cult leader) of Besmara 7 / HP 52 of 52 / F+6 R+6 W+9 / AC 23.19.15 / Init. +4 / Perc +12

Freigar turns on his heels and shakes his axe furiously. "Skullhead says stupid thing! Freigaar ugly, not fat! Fat dog-bait is there", he corrects Mogmurch, pointing at Zunk.


A few bystanding goblins nod when Friegaar's corrects - who is ugly and who is fat - most likely because of fear.


Male Goblin Bard 1; HP 10/10; AC 17 T 13 FF 15; Fort +1; Ref +4; Will +2; Init +6; Per +8; CMB -1; CMD 11; Spd 30 ft.

Sparque waves his hands around dramatically mocking Freigaar.

"Spunkle spinkle stonkle stinkle, blahdy blahdy blah." He finishes with a flourish of "axe shaking".

"Ryte. You not fat. Yu not ugly. Yu dumm. Easy." Sparque stares at Freigaar.

"Now be shush, and let Gutwad shake and spunkle spinkle stonkle."

Nice RP everyone!


Male Goblin Alchemist: 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC:17 T:15 FF:13 | CMB +0 | CMD:12 | Fort: +5 Ref: +6 Will:-1 | Init: +4 | Perc: +3

"What?" he says lifting the spectacles and eye patch. "Yes. You is very ugly. And he very fat."

He then turns towards Sparque. "And you very dumb. Can't even speak right. Spunkle spinkle," and the next s runs long into a raspberry.


Male Goblin Bard 1; HP 10/10; AC 17 T 13 FF 15; Fort +1; Ref +4; Will +2; Init +6; Per +8; CMB -1; CMD 11; Spd 30 ft.

Sparque just watches Mogmurch and smiles before heading off again to see Gutwad.


Male Goblin Cleric 1, Hp: 8/8, Initiative: +2, Perception +2, CMB: +0, CMD: 12

With a start, Burn Teeth Biter awoke. Rubbing the green sleepies out of his eyes, he yawns, pulls himself out of the bush he had found, and makes his way to see what all the ruckus was about.

"What you all doing?" He growled. "Interrupted my precious sleeps, you did. Explain!"


Male Goblin Rogue 1 | HP 10/10 | AC 18/15/14 | Init +4 | Perc +3 | CMB +1 CMD 15

Zunk chuckles. "Zunk be fat but still twice as sneaky as you skull brain. Stronger too."


Male Goblin Bard 1; HP 10/10; AC 17 T 13 FF 15; Fort +1; Ref +4; Will +2; Init +6; Per +8; CMB -1; CMD 11; Spd 30 ft.

The irrepressible Bard drops his head in exasperation. "Gaah. Okays. [points to Zunk] Zunk like to cooks food. I knoes! [slouches and imitates Slorb] Slorb eats Mogmurch-dung, Mogmurch sets fire to Slorb butt. [spins around lightning fast to point to Freigaar] Dum-dum axe-axe spinkle sponkle not fat not ugly but dum. [thinks for a moment] Gutwad still chief. Wants to see you. Us."

Sparque pauses.

"Okays?"


As you gather outside the palace with no-roof awaiting invitation to grovel at the feet of the almighty Gutwald who is always perched upon the massive Teeter Chair...the renowned throne of the kingdom. The vast goblin kingdom that extends to the big red oak tree 300 yards left and the giant pit to the right. Ah...the coveted Teeter Chair a symbol of goblin power.

Other goblin's sensing something is up...basically, they were all smart enough to say no the the request, gather round and watch. When suddenly a raven swoops down and poops.

1 - Spargue, 2 - Zunk, 3 - Biter, 4- Mogmurch, 5 -Freigar
random target: 1d5 ⇒ 1

And with a tremendous splatter Sparque is christened by the raven's bladder. Then before your very eyes the cracked oaken door to the palace opens wide..."Chieftain Gutwad w'll see now."


Human Warpriest (cult leader) of Besmara 7 / HP 52 of 52 / F+6 R+6 W+9 / AC 23.19.15 / Init. +4 / Perc +12

Freigaar rushes to the door and turns back to face the other goblins. "You wait! Freigaar goes first 'cause Freigaar is stronger and stronger is always first." He takes a few steps back, without taking his eyes off the rest of the tribe, and disappears into the palace, his back turned to chief Gutwad. He keeps walking backwards till he reaches the center of the room, and then scracthes his head, oblivious to the presence of his mighty chiefness right behind him. "Chief not here...?"


Male Goblin Alchemist: 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC:17 T:15 FF:13 | CMB +0 | CMD:12 | Fort: +5 Ref: +6 Will:-1 | Init: +4 | Perc: +3

"You sure him just ugly one?," Mogmurch says as an aside to Sparque.


Male Goblin Rogue 1 | HP 10/10 | AC 18/15/14 | Init +4 | Perc +3 | CMB +1 CMD 15

Zunk giggles again, pulling out a mushroom from his pocket and nibbling on it as he walks in to see the chief. "Chief not here, guess you should leave!"


"You both blind chief there.' he points to the big throne and the enormously fat goblin perched and dressed in layers and layers of not so fancy upholstery fabric. "clean out eyes...poke them make them water....always work for me."


Male Goblin Rogue 1 | HP 10/10 | AC 18/15/14 | Init +4 | Perc +3 | CMB +1 CMD 15

Zunk picks at his teeth, nodding to the only goblin in the tribe fatter than him. "What want chief?"


Male Goblin Alchemist: 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC:17 T:15 FF:13 | CMB +0 | CMD:12 | Fort: +5 Ref: +6 Will:-1 | Init: +4 | Perc: +3

"Did he eat last chief?" Mogmurch comments again. Then thinks Fat burn good. He very fat. He probably burn good too.


Evil GM
Mogmurch the Fire Starter wrote:
Fat burn good. He very fat. He probably burn good too.

Deductive reasoning at its finest.


Slorb orients everyone and gets you all facing the proper way, "Now u grovel to chief. "

Suddenly, Gutwad lets out a palace shacking belch-fart that stirs the dust on the floor and makes his toes curl. Slorb immediately drops to his knees in deference to the almighty explosion. "His mightiness has given sign that HE will speak directly to u's" He begins to kiss the dirty planks. "U be honored by this."

You all know that Chief Gutwad only speaks to Slorb who translates his words because Gutwads word are so powerful and insightful it could hurt you brains.

"Sit, sit but still grovel, grovel."


Male Goblin Rogue 1 | HP 10/10 | AC 18/15/14 | Init +4 | Perc +3 | CMB +1 CMD 15

With an exasperated grunt, Zunk semi-quickly goes to the ground. When he reaches the ground he screws up his face until it's red, then lets out a mighty fart of his own to honor the chief.

That was one of the most fantastic posts I have ever read.


Male Goblin Alchemist: 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC:17 T:15 FF:13 | CMB +0 | CMD:12 | Fort: +5 Ref: +6 Will:-1 | Init: +4 | Perc: +3

Must. Not. Use. Fire. Mogmurch has to control every impulse to light a spark. Mostly because his own skin is at risk of getting burned if he did with so much gas floating around. It would make a great explosion though. Instead he commences groveling. His shoulders shake from trying not to laugh but it might be sobs.


Male Goblin Bard 1; HP 10/10; AC 17 T 13 FF 15; Fort +1; Ref +4; Will +2; Init +6; Per +8; CMB -1; CMD 11; Spd 30 ft.

Sparque scoops just enough of the divine poop out of his eyes to look heavenward. Thus blessed, honored, ordained and foretold the little Bard laughs at Mogmurch's question, then enters and tries to concentrate on Slorb's words.

He blinks at the realization that Gutwad who now knows he, Sparque Darktongue is the messiah, will soon be communicating directly with him and his allies. He tries to catch the Chief's eye, but Gutwad is too crafty to let the goblin-dog out of the bag. Sparque resigns himself to watching the holy excrement dry on the edges of his eyes.


Human Warpriest (cult leader) of Besmara 7 / HP 52 of 52 / F+6 R+6 W+9 / AC 23.19.15 / Init. +4 / Perc +12

Freigaar drops to the floor in awe, and his amazement is twofold: first, that his fartness chief Gutwad can master so eloquently the gassy language, and second that Slob can understand it just as easily. Freigaar never be chief, Freigaar only speaks goblin... goblin already very difficult, he thinks, crestfallen. He hopes Gutwad speaks to them in goblin. As Zunk flatulently replies to Gutwad, Freigaar is even more impressed, and pokes the rogue with jealousy, whispering "You fat and you speak fart, you chief one day!"


As the recruits grovel before the almighty, a deep resonating voice booms from the great Teeter Chair, "You all be heroes. Each of you. You are best Licktoads but for me. And maybe but for Slorb. And well, maybe but for jacq, itchy." There is a slight pauses then he adds a few other names. "And fun, gus, phlem, snotty, lefty, and well righty they be guud too. But never you mind those better guud goblins then you, you still ok. That you aren’t fleeing in terror from mighty sound of my voice is all the proof you should need. Yet soon, all Licktoad goblins will know your might, for I have picked you for a dangerous mission."

He snorts then scratches himself. “You know about fireworks and map we found in Scribbleface’s hut. Fireworks were fun. But map is more fun. It shows a route to a place near the coast where Scribbleface found fireworks. And it says there are more fireworks there! I want them for Licktoads. You all go get them tomorrow. Tonight we have big bonfire to burn bad luck away from you, and we play many games. Much fun. Tomorrow you fetch me fireworks. If you meet men, you make them dead. If you meet dogs, you make them dead. If you meet horses, you make them dead. If you meet Lotslegs Eat Goblin Babies Many, you maybe should run. And if you not find fireworks, you not come back or we feed you to Squealy Nord!”

He then proceeds to pick at his fat dirty toe nails, occasionally tasting what he digs out as appears that he forget you are even in the room.


Evil GM

there is a link to Scribbleface's Map under the Campaign Info Tab


Human Warpriest (cult leader) of Besmara 7 / HP 52 of 52 / F+6 R+6 W+9 / AC 23.19.15 / Init. +4 / Perc +12

The mention of a bonfire and games captures Freigaar's attention and every word from then on might as well have been spoken in fart, for he simply stops listening, lost in excitement. Freigaar loves games! And bonfire. Chief said fireworks? Bonfire with fireworks! Tonight good night, yes, yes! He believes the chief also said something about going somewhere and killing someone to fetch something, but he'll just tag along with the other goblins.

Freigaar tries to stay his tongue, but cannot hold back from asking a question of absolute urgency, given Gutwad's announcement. "Tonight will have fight and punch games? Freigaar good at those, it is."


Everyone in the Holy Palace of the Moon and Sun stops dead...even the mice in Slorb's pockets stop moving. Some foolishly brave stupid goblin dared to ask a question. Then suddenly the booming voice answers, "Ride Squealy Nord, you do. Fun, we watch." It's as if the air has been sucked out of the heavenly sky for everyone knows that to dance with the fearsome boar, who lives in a muddy pit in the middle of the village, right next to the goblin baby cages is basically a death sentence.


Human Warpriest (cult leader) of Besmara 7 / HP 52 of 52 / F+6 R+6 W+9 / AC 23.19.15 / Init. +4 / Perc +12

Not catching the drift, Freigaar goes on. "Freigaar not good at riding, can Freigaar slice Squealy Nord instead? More fun!"


Male Goblin Alchemist: 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC:17 T:15 FF:13 | CMB +0 | CMD:12 | Fort: +5 Ref: +6 Will:-1 | Init: +4 | Perc: +3

"YES!" Mogmurch cries at the word firework thinking it a real question. Seeing that it isn't he instantly drops his head so fast that it his head hits the ground and cracks his glasses. He remains quite but when Chief mentions bonfire he shakes with excitement. And before Freigaar can ask his question, Mogmurch is already gone. "Firewooooooooooorks!"


"No, no you's ride Squeally, win BIG prize if you no fall."


Male Goblin Alchemist: 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC:17 T:15 FF:13 | CMB +0 | CMD:12 | Fort: +5 Ref: +6 Will:-1 | Init: +4 | Perc: +3

"Firewoooooooooooooks!" he continues yelling, not hearing the tremendous chiefs words. He does calm down though once the festivities begin.


Male Goblin Cleric 1, Hp: 8/8, Initiative: +2, Perception +2, CMB: +0, CMD: 12

Groveling half-heartedly at best the lazy Goblin had found it quite relaxing to lay on the ground and not look up for a while. Until Freigaar began to question Chief Gutwad's orders. The stillness of the air caused the hackles on the back of his neck to raise and was like a bucket of icy swamp water being thrown over him.

The moment Chief Gutwad the Mighty had finished speaking, Burn Teeth Biter rose from his kneeling position and grabbed the back of Freigaar's neck and began trying to push him down into an even deeper groveling posture.

"Geh, no struggling and no talking back to chief or maybe I bite ear off!" He whispered hurriedly into his ear. "Mighty Chief Gutwad the Mighty! Forgive insolent Freigaar, he know little and not what he does."


Human Warpriest (cult leader) of Besmara 7 / HP 52 of 52 / F+6 R+6 W+9 / AC 23.19.15 / Init. +4 / Perc +12

With his head pressed against the floor, Freigaar mumbles "This true, Freigaar knows little... knows not ride, and knows not what 'insolent' means. If chief says so, then Freigaar will slice Squealy only after Freigaar falls." A pool of drool begins to form on the ground around his mouth.

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