Offenclopf takes the rusty blade with a bow and, wobbling forward, falls to his knees and vomits up a slimey lumpy mess that splashes over Slorb. After a couple of seconds spent heaving and wretching he gets to his feet, smearing the vile slug remnant across his face with the back of his grubby hand.
"thankee for shiny sticker Slorb, Offenclopf real champ now!"
Stuffing the dogslicer into his sack, Offenclopf bounds off to find some gobbo to boast at
Not loser no more, not no more, hero now. Got to go find loser to push in mud...
The Cap'n helpfully dabs some of the mud from Mags's face with his dogpelt beard. She was awful pretty if a little dumb...the whole concept of a captain seemed a bit beyond her grasp. Then again, goblins were meant to be dumb! Dumbness was endearing trait! It made Mags, well...amazing!
When the blackguard Nord threw two more of the Licktoad champions, the Cap'n had had enough--he threw down the gauntlet (or the core of the apple he'd been chomping on--close enough!). To his horror, the pig promptly scooped up and devoured the discarded trash.
"You eat gauntlet!!" the Cap'n screamed at the pig-boar. "Dat be final straw! Me challenge you to dance-off! Me jump on you an' you dance around an' try to throw me off!"
To impress Mags and the other lesser gobbos still around, the Cap'n sang another brief song.
"'Oink! Oink! Weeeeee! Weeeeee!' dumb Squealy Nord said
But the fearless Cap'n replied, 'Prepare to be boarded!'"
"Weeeeeeeeee!" Squealy Nord said as yet another goblin hopped on his back.
"Wheeeee!" the Cap'n echoed a moment later as he flew through the air and landed in the mud, rolling over a few times before coming out of the tumble standing upright. "Dat was fun!" he tells Mags. "You is right--Squealy Nord be best dancer in tribe!"
A bit later, Dogbeard hears of Oppencloft's heroic deed and congratulates the little fellow.
"Arrrrfencloft--you either heap brave or dumb," the pirate says. "Probably both! But you show spirit of true champion! Me almost certain sluggers help ward off da scurvy an' me pretty sure gettin' scratched by rusty steel an' iron help ward off da tetanus. Good job!"
Mags claps excitedly for Cap'n, and gives him a salute with her sword. "Woo! That super cool, Dogbeard! You roll like ten times!" She helps brush some of the muck from his beard, then claps him on the back. "Mags getting apples and partying! You need Mags, say 'Come over, Mighty Hero Mags of Amazingness!' and I be there."
With that, she runs up to the barrel of fermented apples and dunks her rapier in, pulling up two impaled apples. She goes up next to the bonfire, takes a big bite of one of the apples, and starts flailing her legs and free arm in what is either a dance or a fit of full-body muscle spasms.
Since real pirates don't dance, the Cap'n doesn't join Mags by the raging bonfire. Instead, he reflects upon the strange arc his brief life has taken in recent months. Being chosen (well, pressganged, actually) to serve on Captain Rattlebash's goblin pirate ship had been surprising. That Rattlebash's ship had managed to sail all the way from the Shackles to Varisia before wrecking was even more surprising. That the creature that pulled him out of the surf that day had been some longshank duck hunter's retriever had been more surprising still. The look in those big puppy-dog eyes when the goblin'd repaid the kindness by running the beastie through...that had been the mostest quantity of surprised of all.
That the Licktoads didn't kill and eat him when they discovered him nibbling the peltless dog carcass a few hours later was surprising, too. Life, it seemed, was full of surprises. He was good with a blade, good with a song, and good with other good stuff, so he--now called Cap'n Dogbeard--had been accepted as a member of the tribe. Still, he had no true friends amongst the goblins who dwelt in this cold clime. He knew only a bit about the fellow heroes Commodore Gutwad had chosen for his secret mission.
He'd generally given the two pyromaniacs--Arrrfencloft and Master Dogcooker--a rather wide berth, not because they weren't good goblins, but because their penchant for burning was a constant threat to his trademark dogpelt beard. He'd actually felt sort of bad for the runty Arrrfencloft, who often got picked on for no good reason other than he was small and had accidentally given someone life-threatening third-degree burns. He also liked the little goblin's piratey-sounding name.
In a rare moment of prescience, the Cap'n wondered if there might be a good reason why including a pair of pyromaniacal goblins in a fireworks recovery mission might not be the best idea...but he couldn't quite put his finger on it so he let the feeling of unease pass.
Ghir he likewise had avoided, as that fellow would eat anything (and possibly anyone) who crossed his path. Sara the Mysterious was mysterious, and thus had mysteriously remained a mystery to Dogbeard. She seemed to get angry real fast, so Dogbeard was smart enough to always keep at least one other goblin between her and him.
Even Mags the Amazing hadn't previously caught his eye or fancy. Anyone who needed to add an extra word or two to their name to seem special (or relied upon some prop or gimmick to give himself a puffed-up identity, Captain Dogbeard added mentally as he adjusted his treasured pirate hat and dogpelt beard a bit) was likely all hype and no substance.
Now, though, as he watched Mags, filled with ecstasy or epilepsy (Dogbeard often confused those two terms) as she danced free of care, restraint, and rhythm...Doggy found that his opinions were changing.
"Believe da hype...," he whispered to no one in particular as he stood transfixed by the dancing of both the bonfire flames and the Amazingness that was Mags.
As you gather around the bonfire with the sounds of an alarmed piglet belching fire in the background (Squealy Nord having been declared an honorary goblin hero after managing to buck every contender and granted the reward), hours of revelry and good eating whirl by. Sooner or later, your exhaustion and sleep overtakes you.
Morning comes with head- and bellyaches for some of you, but you all are prodded awake and told of Chief Gutwad's latest summons. "Time is now for you heroes to get fireworks and bring them to me," his voice booms once you arrive at the Moot House. "Bad luck should be burned off by now. For more good luck, I grant you rest of the fireworks from Scribbleface. Also, map. Why you not take it yesterday? Now go — and don't come back without more fireworks!"
Slorb approaches and passes you a sodden map showing the Licktoad village and a path through Brinestump Marsh to a shipwreck, as well as a package of brightly-colored wooden tubes of various sizes, longshanks writing scratched out from their sides. With the festivities over the past week, you are familiar enough with what each firework does.
The journey indicated on the map is relatively short — a slog not quite a mile-long through the Brinestump Marsh along a creek's southern bank. It is a hassle to navigate, with numerous stretches of deep water that must be skirted and thick tangles of stinging nettles, but the journey should be straightforward and only take you an hour to arrive at your destination.
Both of you finish your slugs at roughly the same time, and the goblins are amazed. Slorb eyes the empty bottle on the floor with suspicion as he hands each of you a fashionable dogslicer — Gorge and Glutton, from Chief Gutwad's personal armory. He reminds both of you that the prizes are on loan until you return.
However, the acrid slime from the bull slugs' bladders might be strong enough to upset even a goblin stomach...
Ghir begins to turn remarkably... greener. It seems his unwise consumption of gastropodic detritus had been a bad idea after all, gusto or no.
Ghir like sluggers, sluggers no like Ghir..."
His bloated form waddles up to Slorb's outstretched blade, and he lazily takes Glutton in his hand. Not really understanding the concepts of "Dogslicer," "Prize," or "Loan," he proceeds to use it as a toothpick as he falls into a food-coma.
Morning comes with head- and bellyaches for some of you, but you all are prodded awake and told of Chief Gutwad's latest summons.
The next morning, Ghir wakes up with an eyestalk poking out of his mouth. Still moving. Apparently he didn't chew his food well enough. He hacks up the bull-slug and feels very-much-worse-for-wear, or as he would put it "Worser than time Ghir woke up in manure cart."
In a semi-nauseated haze, Ghir follows the rest of the heroes to the Moot house, sees the fireworks and the map, and is generally unimpressed. These things do not look tasty... but he's learned that where there are longshanks, there's good food to be found...
Sara cackles and scoops up all the fireworks!
"I am fireworks expert, I carry fireworks!"
The next morning Offenclopf wakes up hanging by one ancle from a tall pole, he vaguely remembered some of the last nights events culminating in a strange drunken request...
"hoist me like a longshanks flag! Me be big hero, waving for all to see...
...
Reaching up and burning through the crude knots that held his foot, Offenclopf carefully releases himself... With a thud he hits the ground face first, staying upright for a second then crumpling into a messy heap. Scooping himself up he trotts of to find some hair of the dog.
...
Arriving at the moot house with others Offenclopf quickly grabs the map as it is held out, turning it round and upside down several times until the edges start to smolder and a ploom of smoke rises from it. Offenclopf shuvs it into Sara's already full arms.
"Keep map with fireworks, safe from fire there..."
He trails off, eyes bulging more than normal, if that's possible, as he spots Sara's pistol.
"you got faraway-point-and-dead-stick. You magical-mistical gobbo!"
"Pirate should carry map to treasure," Dogbeard suggests politely to Sara, tentatively holding out his hand. "Besides, we not want precious map to blow up spectacularly if Arrrfenclopf or Master Dogcooker accidentally set you on fire."
Addressing the others he asks, "Who want to lead Band o' Champions forth into glory and/or certain death? Should be someone with real sharp eyes or really tough skin that resist monster chompin'."
Mag's eyes light up at Dogbeard's words, and her hand shoots into the air. "Ooh, ooh! Mags! Pick Mags! Mags has sharpish eyes and is hard to kill! Trust Mags on this. Mags once got bit by dog, but not die!"
"Hmm...maybe have Mags an' Ghir at front to scout, stab, an' bite any nasties...den maybe me an' Master Dogcooker (so's me can help Mags stab stuff an' cuz Drubbus not have armor an' thus be crunchable)...an' Sara an' Arrrfenclopf can be rearguard an' maybe even shoot an' burn stuff in front from safe-ish distance. Make sense?"
"Seem goods to me."
Now with a plan for navigating Brinestump Marsh relatively safely, you joke and talk to pass the time. Only the sounds of the local wildlife interrupt your journey. As you travel around a bend with a few squat trees, Cap'n Dogbeard and Drubbus hear skittering of many, many-legged creatures and the snapping of branches from their left!
You have a few scarse moments to rouse your friends to action. Chief Gutwad's warning comes to mind — this area is home to Lotslegs Eat Goblin Babies Many. If only you had listened! A carpet of spiders crawls forth from the undergrowth, followed a few scant seconds afterwards by a massive, bloated spider the size of a longshank.
"Scuttlin' death to port!" the Cap'n barks, pointing his rapier to the left for any landlubbers in the party.
"Spider!"
"Lotslegs gots lots o' eyes, too!" the Cap'n cries as he moves to engage the big spider. "Let's see iff'n the ol' Cap'n can stabbity one out! Yarrrr!"
for
Cap'n Dogbeard: Your rapier sinks into one of Lotslegs' eyes and it screeches in pain — it clearly wasn't expecting resistance, let alone aggression. As Lotslegs lunges at you with its mandibles , the purple ichor from its wound sprays out. You feel its mandibles snap where your head was, but you dodged in time.
Mysterious Sara, Offenclopf: As Dogbeard strides forward, however, the carpet of tiny spiders crawls over you . You feel the pinch of their tiny mandibles over your bodies and in your armour. For Sara, the prickly sensation of the bites is accompanied by a maddening desire to get these nasties off of you — but the tingly sensation in your limbs isn't helping.
Shocked at the sudden stinging swarm that engulfs his legs, offenclopf stumbles away waving his arms furiously as flames gather round himthen, pointing a wavering finger at the swarm, he swears loudly as a roaring flame complete with black smokerolls towards the tiny spiders.
Mags grins and rushes towards the giant spider and joins the Captain in hacking at the spider .
Drubbus unslings his crossbow and lets fire.
Sara throws up her breakfast as she moves OUT Of the area of the spiders!
Mysterious Sara, Offenclopf: As Sara staggers out of the way with stray spiders clinging to her, Offenclopf lets loose a gout of flame that tears through a large portion of the swarm! The remaining spiders crawl together and over their charred allies to reconstitute into a roiling mass.
Drubbus Dogcooker, Mags the Amazing: The spider dodges out of the way of Mags' rapier and a bolt skids off its carapace. Your attacks didn't quite hit the mark.
"Hey Mags! You an' me--let's flankety-flank!
Make ol' Lotslegs walk da plank!" the Cap'n sings merrily before taking a 5-ft.-step and trying to stab the spider in another eye before it gets another chance to bite someone.
for
for
"Aye aye, Cap'n!" Mags says. She takes a five-foot step and wildly jabs at the spider.
Cap'n Dogbeard, Mags the Amazing: Your rapier plunges into Lotslegs' head. With a screech, the spider keels over on its back! Its legs continue to move erratically as purple liquid pools slowly around it. With a final jab from Mags — Lotslegs is dead!
Mysterious Sara: Now that you've stumbled out of the spiders' way, you're able to focus better on the threats at hand.
Offenclopf: Incensed, the swarm of spiders rolls over you and keeps biting. It's so itchy and scratchy!
Offenclopf runs from the horrible mass of legs and teeth, sweat beads his grubby forehead as his temperature spikes and he shivers uncontrollably.
"Die spider!" Drubbus says as a cone of flames bursts out from his hands, washing over the swarm.
School evocation [fire]; Level sorcerer/wizard 1
Casting Time 1 standard action
Components V, S
Range 15 ft.
Area cone-shaped burst
Duration instantaneous
Saving Throw Reflex half; Spell Resistance yes
A cone of searing flame shoots from your fingertips. Any creature in the area of the flames takes 1d4 points of fire damage per caster level (maximum 5d4). Flammable materials burn if the flames touch them. A character can extinguish burning items as a full-round action.
Drubbus, Offenclopf: The lingering mantle of flame from Offenclopf's blast, followed soonafter by Drubbus' spell, scatters the remnants of the swarm. You are left with a long trail of sizzling spiders (possibly edible) and the massive corpse of Lotslegs Eat Goblin Babies Many — only true goblin heroes could have pulled off what you did. You can take a moment to catch your breath, but your greater mission — to find the shipwreck and the fireworks within — remains.
"We should smoosh all da baby spiders, so's they don't grow up to be new Lotsleg Eat Goblin Babies Many," the Cap'n tells the others. Moments later he's hopping around, crushing as many of the fleeing arachnids as possible.
"Oh, what do we do with da baby spiders?
What do we do with da baby spiders?
What do we do with da baby spiders
Dat escaped da inferno?
"Smush 'em with our boots and make 'em jelly!
Smush 'em with our boots and make 'em jelly!
Smush 'em with our boots and make 'em jelly!
Early in da mornin'!"
When he gets tired, Dogbeard tells his fellow champions about the giant bugs that dwelt near his old tribe, the Dark Hooks.
”Dere be all sort o’ giant buggies down north in da tropics,” the Cap’n says. “Dere be giant ants, giant bees, giant beetles, houseflies—dey be big as a house—giant wasps, giant millionpedes, giant grasshoppers, giant…um, treehoppers, monstrous stinkbugs, ginats—dem be really, big gnats—but da spiders is da worst.”
”Let da Cap’n tell you ‘bout da deadly giant pegleg spider,” Dogbeard continues in a hushed tone little more than a whisper. ”Dey be black as night, big as a , with legs as long an’ thin an’ hard as a giant’s spears. Dey live in big palm trees at da edge o’ rocky bluffs o’erlookin’ da sea. On dark nights when ships drop dere anchors so as to not smash into reefs, rocks, cliffs, or other goblin ships, da pegleg spider uses a line o’ its icky-sticky webbin’ to pull da top o’ its palm tree all da way to da ground, den it cut it with one leg an’ shoot itself like a cat out o’ a catapult. It sail majestically through da air, body spinnin’ an’ its legs splayin’ dis way an’ dat. Den—also like a cat out o’ a catapult—it lands soundlessly on its feet in da ropes dat make up da riggin’ o’ da ship.
“Down, down, down da ropes it climbs, like da riggin’ be its very own web. Down it come, black as night, silent as death, to feed on da sleepin’ sailors. Da poor crew, asleep below in da hold, has no clue dat death has come a-creepin’ for them until, comin’ from up on deck, they hear dat dreadful, ominous sound….”
”By then it too late: You be either dead or laughin’.”
Seeing the giant spider's trail, the Cap'n adds, "Da Babyeater needed Lotslegs to hold up its fat ol' booty...but maybe it have better booty back at its lair, eh me hearties?"
Looking from giant spider to carpet of dead spiders and back again, faster and faster until he falls over Offenclopf let's out a wail from flat on his back
"Lotslets lays lotseggs, each eggs is lotslegs, lotseggs, lotslegs...lotseggs... lotslegs"
Offenclopf bounces to his feet
"we should get outs here, morelegs means more legs you know!"
"Aye--Arrrfenclopf has the right o' it," Dogbeard says. "An' come to think of it...it takes two big Lotslegs to make hundreds creepy li'l Lotslegses, so...iff'n we're lucky, there'll be another big Lotslegs in da lair! If we really lucky, Lotslegs will have made second Lotslegs after-mating snack! Let's go!"
With an "Avast!" and a "Yo-ho-ho!" the Cap'n plunges into the swamp, following Lotslegs' trail until he comes to its source. He then looks around for plunder.
Still feeling the worse for the last nights revelry, burping up the taste of bull slug, Offenclopf follows behind the captain, humming his song and setting fire to the occasional bit of wood/tree as they pass.
When we reach the 'source' he looks round in wonder...
"Arrrfenclopf, my good man...er, goblin," the Cap'n says to the smaller fellow. "A word of advice, if I may. Don't set fire to webbed-up stuff in Lotslegs's lair--dat where giant spiders often hide dere booty."
Thinking it over, the Cap'n says, "Well, not set fire until we make sure no booty inside webbin', okay?"
And speaking of booty....
"Come over, Mighty Hero Mags of Amazingness!" the pirate calls out.
Mags, who up to this point has been doing a victory jig over Lotleg's body, hears the Captain's voice from the swamp. She follows the goblin's footprints back to them.
"Mags has been summoned! What we fight now? Maybe big brother of Lotslegs?" she says with hope in her eyes.
"Maybe," the Cap'n tells Her Amazingness. "After all, it take two big Lotslegs to make hundreds little Lotslegses. Also need Mags's sharp eyes and sharp sword to help search Lotslegs' lair. Could be booty there, or webbed-up dead goblin babies many, or webbed-up-but-alive-tomorrow's-DinDin animals, birdses, or even frogs...which we could free and then torture to death for our own suppers."
"Also, Mags...," the Cap'n begins before his eyes turn toward Offenclopf and bug out. He walks over to the little goblins, looks down at him, and then gently takes off the brave pyro's skull helm.
"By Bessie's indiscreet teats!!" the pirate howls. "Only part of Arrrfenclopf not covered with spidery bites is where his helmet was!"
Turning back to Mags, he asks, "You Amazingly enough to heal Arrfenclopf? If not, we need to find healer, healy-juice, or healy-stick for him. Fast."
Lotslegs' lair is not far off the trail — you arrive at a deadfall of several old trees. Scattered amid the trees are dozens of bodies, some of which are goblins, but a few which are longshanks. Dogbeard and Offenclopf find quite a trove of shinies among the bodies. In addition to 24 gold coins, there is a rather fancy-looking crossbow with 11 bolts, one pearl, four potions of various colors and shapes, and a wax-paper-sealed package containing six pieces of licorice-flavored taffy!
You could give these potions the old goblin look-see...
From on top of the deadfall, you can see a two-masted ship lying mired in the mud in a clearing close by. Its rigging is thick with moss and decorated with lanterns and windchimes made from skulls and bones. Strange writing is faintly visible along the ship's prow, while the soggy, swampy "yard" that surrounds the wreck is encircled by a rickety wooden fence. A thin curl of smoke wafts up from a chimney that protrudes from an unusual box-like structure near the ship's bow.
"Anyone else want crossbow?" Dogbeard asks. "Me already have one, but this one be fancy--old one just shmancy. Me could use to shoot first, and stabbity-stab later. Oh--an' maybe even ask questions at some point."
The Cap'n examines the potions by dipping one finger in each, lifting the finger up to his nose for a sniff, and then tapping that finger on his tongue.
Doggy pirate-walks over to Offencloft and hands him Potion #2. "Pretty sure dat be Healy-Juice of Moderate Ickiness. Drink all down, make blechy face, den you should feel betterer."
"Dere enough Yummy Mouth Glue for everyone--can probably give waxy paper to Ghyr as added treat."
"#3 be Potion of Amazing Strength, so dat probably go to Mags da Amazin'. If one o' the others be Vial o' Vile Poison, we probably should take back to Licktoad village and give to Slorb as present. Heh-heh!"
Upon spotting the mired ship, the Cap'n gives a loud gasp and says, "Wow--'nuther goblin pirate ship! Must be goblin pirate ship: Who else could possibly miss ocean by dat much??!!"
Offenclopf, never one to pass up free food, and aware of Ghir's fast approaching appetite shoves the proffered sweet into his mouth and washes it down with the proffered potion.
With a noise somewhere between a cough, a sneeze and a belch, Offenclopf literally bounces with vigour. Grabbing his 'helm' in one hand and the left over potions in the other...
"Besest juice ever! What others do... also you don't take Offenclopf's stuff!"
Offenclopf peers at whatever sun there is through each potion in turn
Pocketing the Potion of healyness in a 'sneaky' (obvious) manner, Offenclopf tosses the other Potion back to the Captain
"makes Gobbo tough as big owly-bear, Offenclopf no need for tough, Offenclopf sneaky"
spotting the old wooden ship Offenclopf's eyes sparkle and he winds his arms readying to set fire to it...
With a sigh, Dogbeard steps bravely (or foolishly) between Offenclopf and the beached ship.
"No, Arrrfenclopf--dat be ship where da fireworks dat da Commodore wants be stored," the Cap'n says. "If you burn now, we not have fireworks to take back to Gutwad. We not have fireworks, Gutwad kill us all dead. Maybe you burn after we recover firepoppers, eh?"
Looking around at the other goblins, the pirate sighs again and asks, "I don't s'pose we strong enough to drag yon ship to da ocean?"
"Na. Drubbus is smart gobbo, and Drubbus is strong gobbo, but not that strong. At least not now. I havs not good breakfast. Don feel good. We should burn ship. Makes better boom. We could get chief back here, and he can watch ship burn! Then he be happy!"
You bicker and talk as you make your way down to the shipwreck. Your final destination looms over you as you see the final obstacle: a muddy yard, surrounded by a soggy wooden pen. You can clamber over the fence with little difficulty, but the mud is thick and at least a foot deep, slowing your progress.
To your horror, from around the back of the ship gallops a black mass with red eyes.
It is a horse. You are reminded of stories you grew up on from the tribe's pens, of goblins crushed under its hooves and souls eaten by that terrible maw. So this is how we die, lesser goblins might think. But you are not lesser goblins. Now, heroes of the Licktoad tribe, will you confront this monstrosity? How will your tale end?
Magss eyes go wide with a mixture of terror and excitement. She draws a her rapier and runs towards the horse , then stops near it and strikes a heroic pose with her sword blocking her front [ooc]Total Defense/[ooc]. "Come at Mags, nasty beast! Mags make tasty horsie steak out of you!"
"Hoozayrah!" Sara exclaims, as she fires her pistol at the evil horse, and totally butchering the common human phrase.
"Ahoy! There be a seahorse in the yardarm, mateys! Yarrr!"