The four of you, great champions of the licktoad tribe (or so you would like to think) have received an invitation to appear before His Mighty Girthness himself, Chief Rendwattle Gutwald. Being the prompt and dutiful licktoads that you are you have arrived on time and dressed in your finest (or rather an hour late and dressed in the same putrid mess as always, but you wiped some of the dirt off so its okay). Your head is filled with anticipation, and probably thoughts of gutted puppies and screaming longshanks.
Before you stands the chief’s moot house. A huge hut adorned with all manner of decorations and trophies. Among many such decorations you see a full human skeleton (you’re pretty sure that wasn’t there yesterday but who knows), most of a horse, several of your former tribe members who you assume did something dreadful, and more dog bones than you can count. The chiefs advisor Slorb stands at the entrance to greet you, he slowly removes his finger from his nose as you approach and wipes it on his robe. Nobody really likes Slorb but everybody pretends to because he’s the only goblin who can handle the might of Chief Gutwald’s words without fainting from fear.
He shouts out in a uncomfortably nasal voice. ”Come, come, His Mighty Girthness awaits. Yes, yes. He has big news for you fours.”
Torch sits atop his black wolf, Not-Dog, lost in thought. Green skinned and mostly plain looking, his major distinction is the couple of bodies on his body from his constant messing with torches and fire. Not-Dog shares the same appearance, with a few patches of fur missing here and there where Torch had previously attempted to set the wolf on fire.
Horse be bad. Horse be very bad, Torch thinks, staring at it. Horse be bad, but fire be good. So if Torch add fire to horse, horse then be good? His eyes wander from the live torch in his right hand to the mostly intact horse and back, contemplating.
In his left hand is a tattered and stained leash, traveling to the strange creature behind him. Collared and on all fours, one can not be sure if it is fully goblin, or not some hybrid. Along with the goblin is a goblin dog as well, making up Torch's famous Torch Pack. Well, among the Licktoad tribe at least. Oh, and among the Dog Fear Tribe past the woods after they went too far one day looking for food.
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Zord jerks himself back to earth. For a few seconds there, his mind had wandered to one of its usual haunts... Tentacles. Ooze. Slime. Puppies. Asparagus.
Zord looks about and says, "Fat! Fat. Yes. Come. News. Puppy. Friends! Cthulu! Heee haa hawww! "
Zord wipes the grime from a small pair of spectacles, plops them on his green face, and re-positions his floppy leather hat. He cinches up his belt and steps forward to meet Chief Gutwald.
Short even by goblin standards, brown-skinned and hairless, Grubble scampers half-jumps towards the moot house, an arm twisted behind his back in a futile attempt to scratch his back. He's clad in a tentative armor made from several bits and scraps of mangy leather, blackened with soot and still smoking from earlier, when he set them on fire to kill the fleas.
Which worked, but didn't do much for those in his body. Now Grubble is thinking about setting himself on fire.
He scratches furiously every place his scrawny arms can reach, finally grabbing a flea, and propmtly popping it in his mouth.
"Who is us fours? Grubble is, uhhhh, Grubble. Is fours like fires? Have many fires."
The goblin called Dogdog wasn't a great goblin hero. He was only there because he was part of Torch's pack.
He was currently laying on his back on the ground gnawing a well-slobbered stick. He was using an odd wolf-skull hand puppet to play tug-of-war with himself.
The large grey wolf next to Torch's black one sat obediently, its tongue lolling out of its mouth. It seemed to have much better manners and training than Dogdog.
"Not-Dog is not dog," Torch says, correcting the silly goblin. "Not-Dog be very mean. He eat dog."
Not-Dog stands there calmly, not looking nearly as menacing as Torch is trying to make him sound.
Dogdog leans into being pet, moving his head to try to get the new friend to scratch his oversized ears. He didn't stop gnawing on his stick.
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Zord stares blankly at Torch's explanation.
Cthulu's madness grabs Zord and tries to shape his brain matter into a more useful material.
But just as the madness grabs him, it leaves him, giving him no clarity on the subject.
Zord concludes lamely by saying, "Torch. Smart. Not-Dog. Strong? " He continues to pat Dogdog on the head.
Torch nods. "Torch be very smart. Torch talk to his food every day so that he can put more words inside him. Torch also burn many of writing of Scribbleface, so Torch have many more words as well."
"Let us speak with big chief and find out special mission. Maybe Torch get to set more stuff on fire."
Slorb leads you deep into the moot house to the chief's audience chamber. The room is filled to the brim with all sorts of collected trophies, some of questionable value, and others clearly prized possessions. You see weapons and armor and treasure taken from longshanks, plenty of corpses of various sorts (you assume many to be dogs, but its hard to be sure), unrecognizable baubles, and large jars filled with you can only guess what vile (or maybe delicious) concoctions. At the back of the room sits Chief Gutwad perched atop his teeter chair. Six feet above the ground on flimsy wooden legs His Mighty Girthness’ rolls of fat jiggle softly as the teeter chair teeters to-and-fro. Every once in a while a fleck of some sort of yellow gunk flies out from beneath a fold, one such fleck plops squarely onto Grubble Gruu’s head and slides off onto the floor with a *Splook*.
Slorb climbs to his post sitting just below Chief Gutwad where he can dictate the chiefs order. This is tradition as the Chief’s words are so powerful they would scare the words out from any others goblins head. Much to your surprise, and momentary panic, the Chief speaks to you directly. After getting over the initial shock of hearing the chief speak, and checking to make sure there are still words in your heads, you listen closely. His Mighty Girthness’ voice is loud for sure, but its more squelchy than mighty.
“You all be heroes. Each of you. You are best Licktoads but for me. And maybe but for Slorb. 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. 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 reworks. 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 reworks. 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 reworks, you not come back or we feed you to Squealy Nord!”
He speaks the last bit about Squealy Nord with a bit more excitement than you might like.
As the yellow fleck hits the floor, Torch quickly cries out, "Mine!", and immediately leaps off of Not-Dog's back to land on top of the fleck. Torch scoops the fleck up and pops it in his mouth to see how it tastes. After a moment, he declares that, "Needs goblin pickles."
Torch panics as the big chief begins to speak and covers his ears to keep his words from leaking out. After hearing a quite muffled speech from the chief, Torch salutes, and only gives out the smallest whimper when his hand misses his forehead and hits his right eye instead.
"Torch find fire sticks fast. Torch want many fire sticks. Maybe Torch finally make Not-Dog Fire-Not-Dog. Pack of Torch will go, too."
Dogdog's stick fell out of his mouth when the chief spoke. He briefly forgot to be an animal and stood there passing for a normal goblin for a few moments. When the chief was done, Dogdog just nodded.
Words falling off of Grubble's ears have been a constant for his life, him being stupid, unpleasant and foolish even by goblin standards. But he remembers that Chief Gutwad's words are said to be fearsome, and he curls to hug his knees. As soon as fire is mentioned, however, he springs up to his feet.
"Grubble burns all of bad luck! And all of dogs! And all of many things! Will be very good day, very very good fire day!"
As he claps in excitement, sparks fly all around him, setting some of his clothes on fire, which he pats out lovingly.
Map in hand and fireworks on the mind, you leave the Chief's moot house. The rest of the day is spent in preparation for the bonfire. A massive pile of wood and rubbish is piled in the center of the village. All sorts of delicacies are grilled (or mostly burned to a crisp). There are fish, and snails, and snakes, and all manner of other goblin goodies.
As night falls the whole Licktoad tribe gathers. Four goblins emerge from the moor house carrying Chief Gutwad atop his teeter chair. Gutwad is set in front of the the bonfire and Slorb takes his place at the Chief's side. With a word from His Girthness Slorb cups his hands around his mouth and shouts "Tonight We burn bad luck from brave champions! Tomorrow they bring many boom-sticks and fizzle-flares! AIEEEEEH!!"
As Slorbs shriek ends the Chieftan lifts one of the treasured fireworks looted from Scribblefaces house and points it at the pile of wood. With a crack and he sets it off and the fire roars to life. Goblins shout and wail, they clap there hands and stomp there feet. Two big goblins roll out a barrel of fermented cider apples. The famed fire spinners of the licktoad tribe begin their dance (and only get mildly scorched). The festivities have begun.
Torch is quite depressed at first when the chief sets the fire instead of him, but quickly cheers up when he finds a snake trying to escape. Snatching it up, Torch begins roasting it alive over his own lit torch, his already nerve dead hand not feeling the heat.
After finishing the half-cooked, half-alive snake, Torch is in a much better mood and decides to begin a song midst a short pause in all the noise.
"Torch be hero, Torch be leader
Torch find sticks and be a beater.
Torch set fire to all dogs,
Torch set fire to all logs.
Torch seek out the boom-boom sticks,
Torch bring back more for kicks."
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Zord really enjoys Torch's song. And he agrees with it. Torch is clearly very smart and very wise, to come up with a song with so many words in it. Zord decides that he will follow Torch anywhere.
Zord begins to dance and sing.
"Torch! Hero! Leader! Fire! Fire! Boom! Boom! BOOM! Ha ha hee! Cthulu!"
Then Zord approaches Torch, and points a thumb at his own chest.
"Torch. Join. Pack. Zord." And then he points at Torch.
Torch spits on the ground. "Torch no join Pack Zord. Torch have Torch Pack. Zord join Torch Pack. Set on fire like Not-Dog, Dogdog, and Dog. Torch have biggest pack in tribe."
Grubble is ecstatic as the bonfire is lit, and dances around it, sparks flying from his hands as he claps furiously.
As Torch sings, Grubble is struck by the beauty of the song, hobbles over to Torch. "Torch good singer, maybe good leader, but Grubble gooder firer! Torch set pack on fire with torch, but Grubble is fire! Grubble is torch! Hahaha!"
The brown goblin points his hand to a pole in the ground where some artistically inclined goblin has stuck a snake and a skull, and a small jet of fire flies towards it, torching the snake's dried skin into a bright lamp. "This! Grubble is fire blessed!"
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Zord sighs. He doesn't know why Torch won't let him in his pack.
"Zord. Sad. Torch. Pack.""
With a little bit of concentration, Zord summons a fiendish dog from the plane of madness. The dog is heavily distorted, with eyes and ears and nose all swapped with each other, and the body shape is mishappen.
Zord turns his attention to the creature and talks in a surprising calm voice.
"The question must be asked, why I, being of sound mind and spirit, am not permitted to join this most wonderful of groups. But, Torch is clearly of high intelligence and knows what he is doing. How else could he have gathered such an impressive retinue. Still, perhaps I can win him over with you, Barkley. He does really seem to prefer the canine variety, though they can't simply be normal dogs.After all, normal dogs are for eating. Clearly! But since you are an evil mad dog, I am sure he will pass over his normal predispensation to burning and killing dogs on sight and allow us to join his pack."
Torch claps in his hands in delight at the jet of fire, waving his own torch dangerously close to his face. "Make fire again. Hit..." After a bit of deliberation, Torch sees the actual dog Zord had summoned. "Dog! Hit that dog! If dog become fire-dog, all join Torch Pack."
"Grubble make great fire to ugly dog!"
As the goblin draws breath, a torrent of sparks rises from his feet, swirling in a crackling stream before coalescing into his hands. With a shout of "Fire Dog!" he releases the power as a fiery incendiary blast.
It's quite sad that he got overexcited and narrowly misses the canine. A swath of ground becomes blackened as the energy incinerates the straw and wood on there.
"Grubble got nervous, try again... Where is ugly dog?"
A jealous goblin by the name of Grop Slugface (so names for his many sluglike pustules) sees Torch attracting attention and his pack seems to be having to much fun for Grop's liking. He tromps right up to torch, squealing with fright as he just narrowly avoids being roasted by Grubble Gruuu's fire blast.
"Torch not such great goblin. Torch only pretend brave. If Torch was real brave he would prove it!" He peers at torch with squinty yellow eyes, and lets out cackle. He's clearly quite pleased with himself for showing everyone Torch's real colors. Several goblins nearby turn to look at Torch expectantly. Grop may have a slugface but he has a following of a few of the younger goblins who think him quite excellent, and they wait with wide eyes to see just how much Grop has shown Torch who's boss.
Dogdog focused on Grop, his giant ears turning back and laying down. A low snarl built in his throat.
Dog's ears lay back mirroring Dogdog's. The big grey wolf's growl was lower and more threatening, but somehow the intensity of it's goblin master was far more frightening.
"Torch bravest goblin here. Torch will prove it now. Torch now be torch." And with that strange declaration, Torch turns toward the big bonfire, runs straight at it, and leaps as far as he can across through the flames.
Again, fire envelops Grubble, swirling streams of sparks converging to his hands.
"Grubble is torch of Torch, best firer in Licktoad Tribe! Grop be tinder of bonfire! Grop squeal mercy or Grop become head of torch!"
Grop's expression slowly drops as Torch's pack comes to his defense and then the torchbearer performs a mighty leap straight over the bonfire, and only gets a little bit burned
Slugface backs off to his group of toadies, once he feels safer behind a wall of other goblins he calls out. 'Maybe Torch is brave, but is Torch brave enough to dance with Squeally Nord?!"
Squeally Nord is a massive pig kept by the Chief in a mud pit in the village. The hog has an appetite for goblin corpses but hasn't been known to actually attack a live goblin. To dance with Squeally Nord (or rather, try to ride him like a horse) is a task only the best goblins can manage! Or so claim the few that have done so successfully.
Torch pats off the few flames licking at his clothes and grins at his accomplishment. Now Torch bravest. Until Grop's challenge, that is.
Full of confidence and bravado, Torch stomps up to Gorp and puffs out his chest. "Torch is bravest. Torch dance with Not-Dog and fire. Torch dance with Squeally Nord, too! Torch make Squeally Nord part of pack."
Torch leads the crowd of cheering and jeering goblins to the pit. Torch begins to have second thoughts as he sees the huge pig, but knows he can't give up now.
With a running start, Torch rushes at the pig and leaps for its back, clutching at the fat hide to get a good enough grip to hold on.
With a confidence grace Torch rushes Squeally Nord and leaps on his back before he can react. The hog squeals in surprise and takes off like a firework. Distracted by his new rider Squeally Nord doesn't take note of the rapidly approaching wall of his pit. With a crash pig and rider slam against the muddy wall, but Torch is an expert at staying atop unhappy and excited beasts. With steady hands a wide grin Torch holds on tight. Squeally Nord thrashes about the pit with even more vigor trying to shake the goblin from his back.
Torch waves his hand at the crowd of goblins around him confidently, his wide grin only slipping when he releases that his hand is empty, his torch dropped back outside the pit. Torch dropped torch. Bad Torch.
Confident in his riding ability, Torch lets Squeally Nord run wild, though occasionally directing the pig until he passed close to Grop.
"Torch dance with Squeally Nord. Now Grop must ride or be Scaredy from now on," Torch taunts as he passes close by.
Outside the pit, Dogdog watched the show, idly gnawing on Torch's torch.
Gruble laughs maniacally, clapping his hands and senting globes of fire into the sky like tentative fireworks. "Scaredy Grop! Scaredy burny Grop! Tinder Grop!"
Grop looks on with growing frustration as Torch not only stays on the pig but rides it like he was born to. As Torch rides by and shouts his challenge Grop drops the half of a fish he was gnawing on and turns tail. Pushing through the crowd he runs off into the village, bawling his eyes out. The goblins in the audience jeer and heckle him until he is out of sight, even his posse shouts insults after him. "SLUGFACE! SCAREDY! NO GOOD GROP IS A NO GOOD GOBLIN! SQUEALLY NORD EATS GOBO'S LIKE YOU FOR DINNER" With great applause Torch emerges victoriously from Squeally Nord's pit.
As the cheering dies down Slorb pushes through the crowd and approaches Torch."His Girthness sees Torch is great goblin in more than name. He tells Slorb 'Give Torch the dragon brew gourd as a prize' so I do." he holds out an old gourd with a leather strap around it to tie onto a belt. There is a crudely drawn image of a goblin breathing fire on the front.
"Chief also says, 'If Torch's pack shows they are as great as torch they get prizes too!'" At that all the goblins break into shouts again, throwing out ideas of how to prove one's worth as a goblin. "WE PLAY HIDE AND GET CLUBBED!"
"NO NO NO, MAKE 'EM CRAWL THE RUSTY EARBITER!"
a few other suggestions are shouted out, as the voices die down the voice of child cuts through the air. "EAT A BIG BAG OF BULL SLUGS REAL QUICK!"
"Sluuuugs!" shouts Grubble, who is at this point overexcited beyond any containment. "Grubble roast and gobble slurpy sluggies!"
Torch ties on the belt and then struts around a little bit, enjoying the cheers and jeers of the goblins. After retrieving his torch from Dogdog's jaws and relighting it, Torch perches himself atop Not-Dog and waits to see how his pack will prove themselves as well.
Two goblin children pull a big wicker basket through the ground and plop it in front of Grubble Gruuu. The basket has a bag of five big juicy bull slugs inside. Bull slugs are huge mildly poisonous slugs, they are considered particularly foul-tasting, even amongst goblins. "You eat five slugs in one minute!" One of the goblin children holds out a big soggy leaf for use as a napkin.
Now eating a bull slug is common dare amongst goblin children and Grubble Gruuu likely did so more than once in his youth. But eating 5 in one minute is more daunting challenge. One trick is to neglect the common practice of spitting out the slime bladder. This makes the slugs go down easier, but it has also been known to make the slugs come back up at a later point.
Dogdog played tug-of-war with Torch's torch for a bit, tugging and shaking with his overdeveloped jaws, but eventually released it at the mention of the rusty earbiter. He pawed at his massive ears, a little worried but thinking about how much more fierce he'd look with a few more notches in them.
He scrambled over to the goblins who'd mentioned the game, headbutted one of them in the hip and said "Browlf!"
Grubble dives over the basket, grabbing the fat slugs in his wide mouth, slime sac and all. The taste is bad even for him, but there's something he just loves in their squishy texture, and for all that they squirm and wriggle, they disappear one after another down his throat.
Juices dribbling out of his mouth, he tops the act by taking the leaf, setting it on fire with a snap of his fingers, and belching out a fireball al big as his head.
Grubble slurps down the first two slugs with gusto and speed. He chokes on the third as it tries to crawl back out but with both hands and an unhealthy dose of determination he forces the little guy down. The rest go down with ease. The crowd cheers and Chief Gutwad claps his meaty hands together from atop the Teeter Chair. With something between a huge grin and s jealous sneer Slorb struts up to Gurbble Gruuu with a bundle wrapped in surprisingly clean leather a tied with a horsehair rope. Inside is dogslicer, polished to a sheen. The handle appears to be carved from a horse hoof. "This Gorge of Gluttons! His Girthness borrows it to you. but bring it back, yes, yes. The Chief will be not pleased if you don't!"
As he receives the dogslicer Grubble feels a wriggling in his stomach. He clutches his belly for a moment, sure that he's going to spew slugs everywhere. The feeling passes after a moment and Grubble Gruuu is pretty sure the worst is over.
The group splits as Zord and Dogdog prepare for their dares. Zord is given 1 minute to run off into the marsh and find a place to hide. As is goblin custom the rest of the group arm themselves with whatever heavy object they can find nearby (sticks, rocks, bones, etc.). Who ever finds Zord get's to give him a good whackin' on the noggin. The all cover their eyes and shout to the air Your average goblin has a hard time getting to ten much less sixty so its usually best to hide as quickly as possible. One minute could be ten seconds or five minutes depending on who's counting.
The rest of the group rolls out the rusty earbiter from behind the moot house. The rusty earbiter is a twenty foot long coil of rusty wire, thorns, old weapons, and other various sharp and unsanitary things. Several goblin ears hang from various spike along its length. The goblin who invented the rusty earbiter was considered something of a legend until he was carried off by a large bird... While testing his prototype bird attracting hat. There is no official time limit for making it through the rusty earbiter but rarely does the crowd stick around long so its best to make it through quickly if you want to prove yourself.
Already being banned from the last time Torch played Hide and Go Whack, Torch watches Dogdog as he attempts to pierce his ears. Why Dogdog want to be No-Ears and not Fire Dogdog for? Torch wonders as he looks on.