I personally don't see a reason to leave it, considering that there's only one door that we know of. It seems a good place to rest.
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"Meh, Marrowdown does not mind the dead. He was a silly foolish gobbo anyway. Why can'ts we sleep? Someone can stay up an' watch as we takes a rest. I think Zurk should do it!" Marrowdown puts one hand on his hip and gestures at the big bugbear with an open palm. He then moves over to Um and slaps him upside the head. "Calm down! We ain't gone be eaten. We're tougher and meaner than ol' Scribbleyface. Gnashy teeth ain't no worry, they can't be more gnashy than mine! I say we stay here, they can only come in through the one door!"
Marrowdown spends a moment roaming around the cabin, kicking at the dog and the goblin bones and venting his anger. After a few rounds of such furious pacing, he pulls two birds off the wall, stuffs one in his mouth, stomps his foot and pokes his head out the door. He proceeds to hurl the other bird at the goblin muttering to himself at the mast. "Gniffles, you run away dumb dumb! Dog dead, we's killed it!"
Marrowdown howls in pain as the dog rips into his arm. Despite his fear and the sight of the bleeding mess of his arm, he tries to bite at his assailant, roaring and yelping. His eyes are red and bloodshot from both tears and fury, and his aim is shaky.
Sorry if I'm pushing you further into the ship, guys. I should have conferred with you all earlier, but our posting with this game seems a little intermittent, and the best remedy for that in my mind is action. I realize that Marrowdown's resources are much less depleted than others' (although he doesn't recognize that), but I figure finishing up the boat and then taking a rest would do more for group morale then taking a break immediately. If you ever have a problem with Marrowdown's rather forward demeanor, just tell him to shut it and he'll quiet down, I promise.
The big goblin nods haughtily at Aka. Inwardly, he glows slightly at what he perceives to be an honest compliment. "That be wise! Don't be fearedful, Marrowdown is brave and fierce!" Marrowdown flounces to the front of the group and bounds forward.
Marrowdown stares at Zoog irritatedly, tapping his foot. "You gobbos done layin' down? We's got business in there!" He jerks a thumb towards the main cabin. "You's'ms can rest later, we go, we go!"
Waving a hand airily at Horsecutta as he passes by, Marrowdown walks over to the now dispatched dog and nods approvingly at Zurk. "Fireworks gonna be easy-peasy. We's brave gobbos. Marrowdown don't see a problem. Nope and no, the fireworks gonna be ours!"
Having taken down the first dog, Marrowdown stands back while the others converge on the second one. He takes to licking the smarting wound he got while fighting, but keeps an eye on the combat. Marrowdown doesn't want to let the other dog bite him too.
Marrowdown clings on to the dog as it howls and bites, determined to bring it down. His hands grab fistfuls of the dog's fur as he latches on harder.
Hmm? Marrowdown had 17 AC from the charge - the dog should've bit him, with that roll.
Marrowdown turns at the growl, and gulps slightly as he faces the dog when it lets loose its bark. But then he bares his teeth, growls back, and launches himself forward at full speed. At the apex of his charge, he hurls himself through the air and into the dog's neck, jaws agape.
Marrowdown looks about the deck, mildly impressed by the clutter and the extent of the natural growth. Spotting the chimney smoke, he sniffs eagerly, curious if there might be something being cooked in there. Then he looks down, and nearly jumps back off the gangplank. A dog! His huge ears raise in nervousness, and he crouches slightly, trying to look inconspicuous. He turns towards each of the other goblins, and whispers frantically, "Kill? Should we kill? Marrowdown thinks killing's best option! Dog bad, better dead, we'll chew and bash, dog get smashed!"
Marrowdown, though outwardly fine from the stinging of the wasps, is grumpy about the state of his mouth. The best remedy for this, he decides, is to eat the corpses of the fallen wasps. After all, bugs taste good, but vengeance tastes better. He scoops up the fallen corpses and heads onward towards the gangplank, fearless in his (perceived) righteous fury and the delicious crunching of the wasps. He does, however, take the precaution of ripping the stingers off first.
Marrowdown doesn't bother with a knife when taking bits from the horse, though he also doesn't really get the importance the others are placing on the feet. He rips off a few more bits from the neck and follows the rest, chewing complacently. When the wasps come pouring out, Marrowdown frowns and then grows irritated. "Stupid stingy bugs!" He tries to retaliate, but his biting is futile! All he gets for his trouble is a mouthful of angry wasps, and his eyes water as he feels his cheeks and tongue swell painfully.
Marrowdown rushes in excitedly through the fence, paying little attention to the ground below him. When he sees the dreaded beast, his mouth goes wide in what is either a snarl or a gasp, and possibly both at the same time. After a moment of odd garbled snarling with the occasional cracking of his voice, Marrowdown follows Zurk into the fray, charging towards the horse.
I'm here, I'm here. Sorry, been a bit busy this weekend.
"Marrowdown has no heals." He continues looking towards the ship as he says this, unconcerned with Um's plight. "What do you gobbos think of that big boat over there? You see the smokes? Marrowdown thinks there might be treats in the big boat. We should go and see, gobbos! And they gots gobbo skulls, prob'ly from dumb gobbos. We can show what true gobbos do! Fight and bite! And win, too."
Explosions?
Marrowdown surreptitiously gathers the bi-products of the foolish victims (except for the bones, teeth, and hair which get tucked away into a pocket), and the licorice and stuffs it all into his mouth. He leaves the other items to the group. They aren't of much use to him. Marrowdown finds that the strong taste of the licorice, a new experience for him, goes well with the stringy bits of meat. "Thish verm tastfth. Yom foolsch for nyot," he swallows here, "snatching the yummy bits up."
Marrowdown enters the lair at a leisurely pace, but his eyes light up when he sees not spiderlings, but things of actual scrumptiousness! He spends a while strolling amongst the various bodies, pulling off bits here and there to sample. He watches admiringly as Gniffles whacks the dog corpse, and when the witch finishes, he pulls it down and slings it over his shoulder. "Dogses make good soup, 'specially now that Gniffles made it all good 'n' tender. Tasty, tasty!", he announces to no one in particular. Marrowdown joins the others in the search, though he's doubtful that anyone stupid enough to die in such a manner would have anything of value.
"Marrowdown's not sure it be tasty, them big spiders were more icky than yummy." Marrowdown looks around for his dagger, and then, once it is found, tucks it back into his sash. He then bends over the footprint and examines it as well, curious as to its origins.
We're fiiiine. We kill the little one and we're golden. Er, unless it kills Horsecutta or Zoog first. Little less golden in that case.
Marrowdown moves closer to the spider, drawing his dagger as he does so. When he gets within range, he hurls the dagger at it.
Marrowdown leaps at the passing spider and attempts to seize it around the head with his teeth.
Marrowdown continues his assault on the ground spider, briefly pausing to spit out bits of spider-y unpleasantness.
Despite the intimidating sight of the monstrous creatures, Marrowdown charges towards the spider ripping into Um and launches at it with his mouth agape.
Marrowdown has skulked over, happy about the prospect of fighting. He's not particularly pious, but their mission seems to be most perilous. Any assistance, even divine, he would appreciate. "Blessins be good! Me's in - Marrowdown's good for fightin', though dunno how good at fightin'-not-killin' me be. Mebbe not very, though can try my teeths at it!"
Marrowdown stands amid a crowd of smaller goblins, surprised and rather flattered by the attention. He decides to impress through his vast knowledge of the marsh. After all, he has spent much time in its depths, and has found secrets and treasures there. A few stories of his findings were sure to impress.
Unfortunately, halfway through his spiel, he reaches into a nearby wicker basket, unaware of its contents, and takes a bite. His gag is of unparalleled loudness, unprepared for the extremely foul taste of the bull slugs, and the following spluttering is nearly drowned out by the cackling of the younger goblins. In a huff, Marrowdown marches off once again to the sidelines.
Marrowdown bites furiously at... something. It's probably food, though were he got it from will forever remain a mystery. He's moved in somewhat closer to the fire and taken a seat as well, gnashing at the bugs that swoop around his over-sized head. He's somewhat nervous about the prospect of going through Vorka's territory, though that will never be admitted to anyone. Ever. And eventually he shrugs off the feeling, reasoning that if she's a good gnasher, and he's a good gnasher, then eventually they must gnash each other to see who's the very best gnasher.
He stomps around the edge of the preparations, keeping a grumpy face on. He doesn't like celebrations much.
Marrowdown grins excitedly and bows several times to the Chief. "Thanks, Cheev! We's going to get you all the fireworks! No need for Squealy feedings, we be the best fireworks finders ever! Longshanks, dogses, horses, no match for us-es! Lotslegs maybe. But Marrowdown still bites it!"
"Who cares if old gobos failed? Three or five or tribe, they was stupid, weak! We new gobos! Longshank city no match for us! Probly what the Cheev wants us for, to show the longshanks what gobos are made of." Marrowdown nods sagely.
Marrowdown is a big goblin, and quite proud of it! His head is giant and quite hard, filled with huge, tusk-like teeth. He wears a chain shirt that heads down just past his knees, coupled with leather pants and pointy leather shoes (complete with nice shiny buckle) beneath this. A leather band wraps around his chest, and in this is held an old stone dagger of strange make and his lucky toad, Stonetongue. Marrowdown dodges out of the way of the hurtling acid, and then stamps his feet and puffs out his chest. "Ziki may be best firestarter, but Marrowdown be best warrior! Marrowdown has strongest teeth, you see?" Here he stretches open his mouth as wide as he can, showing off his thick, pointed teeth, and cackles. "Chahaha! Marrowdown can bite through that little sword like it was longshank's neck! Marrowdown can eat you alla up, and still have room for snacks!"
Done! I just like doing it that way because when you start to add in weapon enhancements and such it gets kind of jumbled.
No more fighting? But it was just getting good! And yes, if we do die it should be in as spectacular a fashion as possible. And thanks for taking me on, GM. I'm very happy to have the opportunity to gnash my way through this!
"I said... NO SINGIESONGS!"
Marrowdown enters the fray! He slaps and pushes the other goblins, and tries unsuccessfully to push big Grunty to the ground before giving up. "You lotta shut up! Make too much noises, bad gobs! Yous better be quiet, otherwise lotsa bad stuff gonna happen!" As Zoog runs past Marrowdown, he leaps ontop of the alchemist and struggles to bring him down. Marrowdown succeeds! He grabs Zoog by the ankles and drags him back to the group!
"Nahnah Zurk, Marrowdown be the one who be killin'! No more singiesongs, now be waiting time! Marrowdown bites any singsongers!"
Finished up my character. Went with the Barbarian, as it turns out. Marrowdown, the Feral Gnasher! Good at biting, gnashing, chewing - whatever you need. Edit: Er, and just in time, it seems! |