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"If Poog is to go to a party, Poog needs to change out of his armor. Poog will not embarrass The Society." Poog then walks off to get changed. You hear him muttering a checklist of things he needs to do and wear for these type of events. When you meet up again, he is dressed nicely and looks clean. This something disturbing about a decently dressed goblin. "Poog is coifed and ready to cuisine."
Poog starts singing a lullaby.
Then rushes past. "See? Poog says Poog not stealthy but you no believe Poog and now Poog needed to sing to weird plushy dragon. Poog finds himself saying weird sentences like this often since joining the Pathfinders. Life was possibly simpler if Poog had just stayed as a pickle maker..."
One round down, 2 successes, 1 crit success. Progress: 35 feet.
Second round, 3 successes. Progress: 65 feet.
Third round, 2 more successes and another crit success. Progress: Done.
Poog shouts to the other side, no idea if anyone can hear him"Poog has arrived! Poog swims very well! Not sure if longshanks can swim as well as Poog as those long legs look very clumsy to Poog, but Poog gives you Her Ladyship's blessing and wishes you good luck!" Pauses. "What? Or, Poog was not aware of this. Poog thanks Her Ladyship. Shouting back again. "Her Ladyship says luck is for drunken gods and that fate it what you make of it! Poog takes back his wishes of good luck and hopes that you are all in good standing with your gods!" Pauses again. "That did sound ominous, Her Ladyship. I'm sure they understood what Poog meant though."
"Poog is very strong swimmer. Please take the 100ft of rope and give Poog one of the immovable rods. Poog will take these through and create a rope that the rest of the Pathfinders can simply pull themselves along by attaching an immovable rod at each end. The last person should be the worst swimmer and can simply hold on to the end of the rope and Poog can pull you through." Poog doesn't even pause after thinking of this plan and heads into the water with the items in his hands. He hands the other end of the rope and other immovable rod to Manahath and dives in.
"The rods were reusable, but stairs are pretty easy to climb. Poog approves of easy. Especially after Poog's humiliating defeat to the drake in the arena. Oh Poog will become stronger and kill all of the drakes in Her Ladyship's name. What? What's that? Her Ladyship does not approve of mass genocide of a species in her name? Poog is confused but appreciates Her guidance." Poog starts to climb the stairs. "What if it is done in Poog's name? Still no? So many rules. Poog will simply kick every drake he sees. Stupid smelly drakes. Hmmm, Poog wonders what drakes would taste like pickled..." Poog continues to mutter to himself as he climbs the stairs. "Good point, Her Ladyship. Drake would probably taste like everything else that is pickled: Pickles." Poog takes this as a ringing endorsement and makes a note to go back and pickle the drake. "WHAT?! Her Ladyship says to not do this either? Her Ladyship is really punishing Poog for his arena failures." Poog furiously scratches out his note.
Fireday Dawn, waking up in the morning
”Poog does not think that an honourable cleric would deceive the world so, Two-Eye. For the casters, do what you an in combat. With the spells test coming up, you having as many spells as possible would be very helpful. We passed the last test through cunning but not everyone participated in each exchange. Poog himself only won the day in just one of the tests.”
”Buffing and healing is allowed. Poog will protect you from this menace. Stay near Poog and Her Ladyship will protect you as well.” Poog eats some pickled fish heads amd washes the, down with the pickle juice. He then draws his light hammer and shield with a crudely painted holy symbol painted onto it. He bangs them together and advances.
"Poog feels weird about this pact." Immediately draws his Dogslicer, slams it down to the ground and drops to his knee. "Dear Her Ladyship, sir. I only made this pact in your honor. Poog will fight whatever devils or demons he faces if he ends up being dragged to one of the hells in order to help out his friends. Poog is seeking your forgiveness if you feel this dishonors you. Love Always,
P.S. Poog now understands why Pathfinders sign a waiver upon entering the Lodge."
”Not that Poog has anything against Poog. Poog was fond of his time with Poog and speaks highly of Poog often, Poog does. But Poog does not approve of Poog being in the Pathfinder Society and Poog has brought shame to Poog for Poog’s actions that bring him quite often into contact with dogs and horses. Which Poog has no problem with but Poog definitely has a big problem with.” Poog trickled off near the end there as even he had to pause to make sure he understood what he was saying. ”Perhaps you would like this drink better.” Poog combines Argo Isle rum with pickle juice from his fish head preserves, and pours this over a glass full of ice. ”I call it the Longshank island iced tea.” and hands him the glass.
Poog curtsies again. ”It is wonderful to meet you. You don’t seem like the usual things that get summoned but I am glad they did. Always great to have bookish people on the trip. As for armaments, Poog has always found that having them and not needing them is better than needing the, and not having them. Much like teammates. Wouldn’t you agree with Poog?”
Listening to a voice nobody hears... Iomedae tells me she’s fairly certain that we’ll make it through this day relatively unscathed. Or maybe scathed but alive. Well, most of us, at least. She seems to be uncertain about Dogfinder.” With the last word Poog takes his lucky frog out of his belt pouch and pushes him forward. There’s a 50/50 chance he takes out one of the previous “lucky” frogs he’s had named Dogfinder.
Poog pets his lucky toad, Dogfinder before entering the lodge. “Poog will need luck this day. Iomedae sends Poog Dogfinder, and Dogfinder will bring him this luck.” A smile always upon his face, Poog stands tall for a goblin and is usually humming a tune of some kind. He makes a living singing in a local bar, although his songs are mostly an acquired taste that the innkeeper seems to enjoy, even if his patrons do not. You can also find this same singing in battle as Poog inherited his father’s propensity for overconfidence in battle. This confidence has given him a withering stare that has been known to stop people cold. He enters the lodge looking at the field commission he’d gotten from Gorm Greathammer himself. ”Today is going to be Poog’s day. Iomedae declares it herself.” |
