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Reta is leery of any of the dragon figurines - they looked far too snake like - and she recoils with a convulsive shudder when the fan is revealed to have a map on the back. She'd had quite enough of Scribbleface's studies and writinglings and drawererings. He's what caused this whole mess in the first place! She immediately grabs the red pearl hairpin, using it to pin her bridal veil on more securely. She also lunges for the exilir of love, hoping to use it against the Bigchief! She will surely throw away the stupid bottle when she's done.
Guessing that she's found just the right one (because it keeps nicking her hand as she tries to retrieve it...that's got to count for something, right?) she jumps back into the doorway and fires at the cruel cannibal.
Her strange additions only serve to get hooked on the string upon release, with the arrow clattering harmlessly to the ground.
Reta releases her arrow hoping beyond hope for the infamous thunksqueal.
She wanted to be known as Reta the Terrible, but not this way. Fuming she lets another fly.
She squeams and scuttles away from the door, claws practically ripping the wood of the ship to shreads. She was getting really tired of missing. It was easy when enemies were everywhere: swing chaotically and you're bound to hit something, even if it's not what you were aiming at. She feels around in her quiver for an Extra Special Arrow. She's spent so much time adding barbs, and fish hooks, and she'd even tied a hammer to one of them. All the things that were supposed to make them fly better didn't seem to be working, though. Vorka's sorcery was no doubt at work.
Reta attempts to skulk around the mast...
...Readying an arrow for if Chuffy steps out of the doorway and reveals her presence. She tries hard to stiffle her maniacal giggles, barely managing to succeed.
She snickers as she grabs her bow , getting comfort from petting her dog earred quiver with a stray hand. Reta was going to kill it all just right. She wasn't about to let the area's only real challenge to her feminine brutality continue breathing. She was sure that the Bigbad was going up against the Bignotquiteasbadbutsoontobedead. She might need a better name. Except that she wouldn't. On account of all the being dead. Reta then scrambles on all fours, skittering along the ground and the walls, finally ducking behind the mast. "Look like Poog not so bad at frog killing. Maybe Poog switch Gods?"
The sounds of fun were ringing in her ears, and she was nowhere near it. This would not do. Reta was battered up and didn't have any healing left, but the sooner she could retrieve her bow and get back to the thick of it the better.
Reta squeals in pain as the frog bites her hard. If she had the capacity to believe in karma, she might have thought this was retribution for all the torture she'd inflicted on animals. The gobliness didn't have that capacity, however. Just simpler notions, like fear, rage and vengeance.
She jumps up with a start as the toad chomps the chemist. "We eat you, you no eat us!" You're not quite sure if she's talking about the cannibal or her pet. An angry Reta chops hard at the toad's side.
An angry Reta then...runs away. Wait, what? There she goes! Once a goblin always a goblin. If Players Sense Motive 10:
You're well aware that her battle rage and hubris make her think she's too good to be hurt by things like fire, just like she was acting above deck. You realize she's merely running to grab the bow she left behind.
She wasn't about to let Mogmurch have all the fun. Such a large critter might well be Reta Destiny. Walking into the room sideways along the wall - she was really getting too used to that potion - she skitters up to carve up some of that barbeque.
Her climbing and clattering approach does nothing to help her aim, and what she expects to be a graceful gutting is really just her flopping haphazardly to the floor beside the alchemist. She scowls at the sword: it hadn't been as nearly as good as she'd assumed. Or possibly, as she'd left her luck toad inside of a horse, her luck had simply run out. She realizes that she also left her bow on this floor, crafted by her own horrid hand and the help of many dogs earses...es. "Reta got recipe for Vorka. Time to stop Hop Hop. Bop the top, then wallop till flop, till need a mop. Big mop. Reta not afraid to get her hands dirty. Her pretty dainty hands. Much prettier daintyer than yours."
Her eyes widen at the sight of the tremendous toad. "...me gonna need a bigger meat hook."
"One vote no for surprise party," Reta realizes. She tosses the snake to him with a shrug and heads back out of the cabin. Her spider climb potion was still working, though she hadn't seen any sneaky entrances down there to really take any advantage of it. She muses about kicking Cuddles down the flights of stairs for effect, but he was a particularly large and heavy mutt. "Reta go down and take care of Vorka. I bring her back here for you to play with, if want."
She rips a stray snake nonchalantly off the wall, idly smacking it around. They were so hard to catch that Reta has spent one summer devoted to trying. When she finally was able to, though, she found out that snakes don't make much in the way of noise. Torture without noise doesn't make much in the way of fun. Reta didn't like snakes anymore. "Where is he? He is where? Gruesome gruel is hot in pot. Mutts not as quiet as snakes. Vorka hide or Vorka gone. Or Vorka deaf." She steps on the serpent's head, seeing how much stress it takes when stretched. Dead specimens like this never gave quite the same results though. "Could crash his fancy dinner party. Surprise if he returns. Or go back down to ship basement? Basements always good for storage, Reta know. Also: good for squealy echo. Good indeed. Where go?"
Reta big bobble head admire decor, though think Vorka undeserving.
Reta pauses to admire the grim scene in wonder, being sure to take mental notes to mimic this interior design. The critters nailed around the walls were exquisite, and she hoped that they were still alive during the decorating process. She could have done without the skeletons in the way, though. "Cannibal should best other gobs, not eats them." She reaches into her worn leather satchel and drinks her healing potion, feeling the stings of the angry dog melt away.
She seems to catch her second wind, seeming no worse for wear. Whether due to the magic potion or the strange decor you'd rather not dwell on. "Scribbleface mess with dark powers. No big loss. But Vorka not leave Reta critters to splitters into splinters." She waves the Chief's dogslicer around, knocking over several knick-knacks. "Will not do. Reta must play with Vorka instead."
"RETA SLAY! RETA FIGHT!" She lets loose a savage yodel: the most ear shriekingly robust and terrifying yodel you could ever hope to comprehend. You pray you do not have to suffer through such nightmarish non-verbal singing ever again.
The coveted thunksqueal will never be found in the dry floorboards of a beached ship, yet each of her attacks continues to land on wood instead of dog. She is shocked that she continues to miss in exactly the same way each swing. "Yeesh...me have to finish song before powerful swing lands?"
More fire appears below her. She attempts to claw her bridal veil up to protect it from the licks of flame.
Once again the embers land on her green skin with a sickening sizzle, though she does not appear to be much worse for wear. "Mogmurch no cook dog till ready for spit!" Just to be sure she isn't confusing her words again, she spits at Cuddles for good measure. It's always best to cover your bases.
Since Reta chop no work, Reta bite come next. Her bobble-head attempts to clamp down on his tail.
Cuddles dodges her second strike as effortlessly as her first. The Bigbad beings to growl and twitch. "Stupid mutt! Hold still for gut!" She hated it when playthings didn't want to play. It was quickly reaching the point where she might have to break this toy.
Upon seeing the dog she indulges in a fit of cackling...until the explosion causes an rain of embers and spinters to fall upon her.
Her skin sizzles and steams, though she seems more concerned with putting out any flames on her bridal veil than on her flesh. As a result she takes a small burn. "Reta chop and Reta bite!" First come Reta chop. Reta leap majestically from mast, like graceful swan in middle of death throws.
Her eyes swivel around faster than her head can keep up, dragging flopping ears along for the ride. She stares with frozen fascination at the door to the smaller cabin. Wonderment quickly descends into the sociopathic. She makes a short scramble onto the mast with the tingly-clingy juice still making it seem effortless. She swings her blade around to point at the door, never taking her eyes off it. "Be scurvy sea dog! Yous ready? Yous wants hook? Reta had hook, Spotol watching. Could good help medicine you into pirate first if want."
She gives the Gorge a few test swings, comparing to the balance of her own dogslicer. "Reta got two swords," she muses to herself. "Reta just get bow later." (Which in Bigbadian probably meant that she would just take somebody else's.) She shoves the inferior blade back into her belt and takes one step towards the door. So many ways to maim, so little time. She shuffles in place sniffing high and low, walking around in an ever speeding circle, searching for more dogs.
Reta grumbles, crossing her arms in a huff. She hadn't ferreted out a thunksqueal - huh, maybe she could use ferrets towards that goal - and she'd dropped her bow below deck. She scrunches up her green scarred face. "You no pirate. You just rat." Oh, what she wouldn't give for a rat right now. She could smoosh it and stretch it and peel it like a banana. Oh, bananas! Did the ship have rats and/or bananas stashed somewhere? Maybe they were still good after all this time. They were better black and gooey, anyway. Both rats and bananas. And...ratanas. "Wait. Wait....wait? No, wait! All this work for fire! Where fire work?" She looks around, eyes finally coming to rest on the cabin's closed door.
"Dog dog dog! No no no! Dog no, no dog! No dog left!" She beings to stomp around throwing one of her trademark temper tantrums. "Where be the Bigbad's Thunksqueal? It hiding in wretched Pomeranian?!" You realize that if you want to maintain any semblance of stealth, you'll have to cover up her mouth or somehow snap her out of it.
Seeing her fellow gobs approach the mongrel, she lashes out in the hopes of grabbing all the glory. Now was the time to strike, as it was busy distracted eating Chuffy!
She giggles uncontrollably to herself, praying that her prey will give her a coveted thunksqueal.
"Dog dog dog dog dog dog dog--" The gobliness seems as obsessed with the creature as it is with them, her own snout frantically sucking up every scent and splinter she can from the stair steps as she bounds up them. Arg! Stupid Chuffy! What if he killed dog before Reta?! This thief was definitely getting in the way of her glory. She resolved to make sure the Chief knew just how much she did on this mission, and just how little the others did. Locking eyes with the canine she raises the Gorge before her.
"Reta glad no one saw that." That shot was just...embarassing, and now everyone was getting clustered together. She thinks hitting the gobs with a stray arrow would be fun, though ultimately not effective. She drops her bow where she stands and scampers to the crowd, drawing the Gorge.
The Bigbad thoroughly enjoyed that sound despite its lack of squeal, and decides she wants to hear it again. Maybe Mogmurch and his science wasn't all bad after all. If she could un-science a horse, maybe she could science a mutt. That's where good help medicine came from, after all. To this end she shoots at the dog again...for Science.
"I hear, I hear! Be patient Barky. Reta come for you too." No sense in sneaking-peeking anymore. She tries unsuccessfully to blow the hair out of her face before giving up and firing the arrow anyway, even though her angle isn't the best. She'd rather launch it now to better prepare herself for whatever's coming.
She doesn't even wait to see if her arrow hit its mark, before spinning and huddling hard around the corner. She hopes to hear a satisfying thunk, though. Maybe a squeal. She wonders if there is such a sound as a "thunksqueal" and if she should endeavor to create it for the good of goblindom.
Reta climbs over the side of the railing as quietly as she can, removing her shortbow and readying an arrow. At first you think she's showing restraint by waiting for the others to get into position...but then you realize she's just a bit tangled and is trying to be quiet. She glowers as you glance over. "SHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"
She had forgotten about the ladder, but no matter. She was hoping her spider climb might grant her some vantage of the dogs, or some advantage towards subduing them. She begins to scale the side of the ship as silently as she can, nose on the lookout for the doomed doggies.
Reta isn't having any of it. She immediately dives into the muck, mud and horse...let's say "juices." She rolls around to give herself a nice coat. This splashing seems to scare off most wasps around her, and prevent the few that do come near from reaching through to her skin. Just barely. "Reta tick off enough thingers to learn about stingers." She shoves a hand into her purse satchel and retrieves the Potion of Spider Climb, chugging it and throwing the bottle to the ground. She shoves her arm further into her satchel, retrieving 20 feet of rope that she clamps onto with her teeth, sheathing the Gorge back onto her back. "Reta look for most un-reasonable way to climb ship. Reta throw convention to the winds. Reta can cause Reta strong enough to." It's a bit hard to make her out with the rope in her mouth.
You suppose she was pretty strong for a goblin. Do you know how hard you have to wring a horse to make horse juice come out? Reta does.
"Booms spell dooms. Wait, no. Booms spell booms. Don't they?" She confuses herself and looks to Mogmurch for the answer. "How get dooms? Dooms handy." She removes her toad Spotol, squeezing him in eye-bulging appreciation. "You lucky after all. You not so bad." She proceeds to shove him into the poor stallion's wound, then crams its severed leg back into the hole. "Me Bigbad, though. This is known." She jams her toasting fork and meat hook in to make sure Spotol can't wriggle out of some opening. She sniffs the air again, idly doodling streaks in the blood on her blade as she looks over to Chuffy. "Bigbad take care of Bigdogs. Maybe they no even reach Reta." She pats the worn satchel at her side, which responds with some sort of liquid sloshing.
Her face suddenly contorts, looking suspiciously at the steed as it comes into her view. "You not dogs." She knew she smelled mutts in the roiling mists beyond. Beady eyes narrow to slits. "You go way! Time of Reta destiny at hand! You no get in way!" She brings the Gorge to bear, dragging it through the muddy ground as she charges. It might not have been dogs, but at least it was one more animal to make into a plaything.
In her rage she ignores the alchemist and whatever he's doing. Now was not a time for science. Now was a time for her to un-science this horse right of of existence.
Her tiny nostrils flare as her balloon head falls face first into the dirt, trying to devour air right out of the ground. sniffsniffsniffSNIIIIFFFFFFFFF. "Dogs...dogs...flogs the dogs!" Unlike many goblins, Reta's not particularly afraid of them. She knows what they smell like, though, and that smell makes her mad. Very mad. She stomps purposefully over to the opening in the fence, drawing the Chieftan's shiny dogslicer and raising it high overhead. Her massive overbite chomps down hard on her lower lip, who whole chin bleeding in abject glee.
She hops from foot to foot excitedly. "Gut more mutt for Moot!" She barely manages to contain her glee, though - barely - and does not shout out to those lurking within. "Choke point good for choking dogs? Choke till broke! Then poke the croaked! Where Reta Poking Stick of Pointy? DID RETA FORGET POKING STICK?! Need shove tree's bark into dog's bark!" You know all about the Bigbad, as much as you'd like to forget. She cannot abide hounds and her excitable rage might well destroy any acts of low cunning you wish to enact. You imagine that she can only hold out a little bit before storming the ship.
Reta had spent most of that time purposefully away from the proceedings, stomping up and down and trying to yank her filthy bridal "hat" over her head. She'd felt her face flush when she looked at Poog and that simply wouldn't do. She pulls out her lucky toad Spotol and sits on it heavily, cursing its "lack-luck" during the fight with the spider. She hadn't gotten to so much as strike the beast, and the thought filled her with rage. Eventually she stands back up and joins the others. She makes sure to smack Spotol against every tree trunk she passes in the efforts to unflatten him.
Reta too busy glaring at Poog to shinies search.
"Poog!" she cheers, then catches herself cheering, then glares at him for good measure.
Reta will snarl when her turn comes, spending one move action to draw the Gorge of Gluttons and another to scamper up next to Mogmurch.
Reta loves taking risks in combat to scare her enemies. She's also a little crazy, especially when her bloodlust sets in, and while she's scared of his size she convinces herself that it's just a big critter capable of enduring big funner big torture. She starts punching herself in the head, working into a frothing lather. Seeing Mogmurch's bottle explode in a rain of fire, she does not draw her sword. Instead she gibbers and screams like a thing possessed, ripping the lone paper candle from her pocket. She runs straight up to Lotslegs' face and tries to toss the firework into him before the flames goes out in a round or two.
Regardless of the outcome, she seems pleased with herself and her rage. "reta chop and reta bite! Reta slay and Reta fight! Reta Stab And Reta Smite! RETA KILLS IT ALL JUST RIGHT!"
Reta seems excited until she sees a distinct lack of blades or critters tied to the fireworks. She only takes 1 paper candle and leaves the rest for the others, as long as they promise to try and tie blades and/or critters to them before launching.
Reta party animal. She joins in on the drums, slamming her fists and occasionally other drummers' heads to the beat.
Her eyes widen as she sees the tight confines of the Earbiter, reaching up to clench the bridal veil tightly her her scalp. It was an enormous scalp, and - after an ill-fated raid on a frontier caravan where her head got stuck within the spokes of a wagon wheel for an eight hour jaunt (to which the stupid humes didn't even seem to notice her presence) - Reta is now quite aghast at the notion of getting stuck again. She instead retrieves her lucky pet toad Spotol, swinging him around by the tongue and wondering if she could still keep its luck if it was dead.
Reta picks her nose thoughtfully at his whisper. Mogmurch:
She gives the blade a nod of approval. That would serve her well and might not shatter like their other dogslicers, something she could appreciate. "Reta do hit things so harder. Harder and breakier. Reta passion to blame. Take pride in work."
"Me like hit animals hardest cause they no talk back. Not like some stupid weakling-meekling I know who want face full of fist." She glares at the goblin who she feels questioned her courage earlier. She half groans and half grunts rough acknowledgement of the alchemist's prowess as she hands him the gourd. "You torture-tear tinies good with teeth. Maybe all years with Rempty not make you soft." She admires the Gorge of Gluttons for a long moment. It was very shiny. And this was the Chief's! She didn't mind the thought of giving it back, for she thought it would give her another chance to see him, and if she ever became new Queen Chief she'd just take the Gorge back anyway. It was a circular logic, but that's the only kind you can expect from one who's not sharp. Continuing to form plans she waves off Poog and Chuffy. "Go play your game. Reta never run or hide." You've seen her do both on multiple occasions, though you suppose it might be a bit less than some others. "If you too weak to even hide, then Reta won't let prize go waste."
"Stupid face and his stupid Squeely," Reta mutters under her breath. In her trademark shouting style, though, she's far from inconspicuous. She cannot believe this stupid gob has insinuated she's a coward. This could not stand. "Me break the bacon, then maybe break you." She roughly shoves the others of the Great Chief's Chosen aside, thudding herself down on the hog. She squeezes her legs and clenches her claws, hoping that inflicting pain on the creature will make him slow down and heed her commands. She is not sharp enough to realize that such a tactic might just backfire on her. If the mud starts to make her slide around, she tries to use her teeth.
"What you say?!" Reta shouts, leaping up and down. "Reta can't be coward! Reta the Bigbad!" She hurls her empty cider cup at the speaker. "I alreadys bigtime hero. Happy to prove." If she ever did become new Queen Chief, she decided this one was going to serve her as either a foot stool or a hat rack. Maybe a hat stool.
She idly strokes the band around her well-used quiver, for roughly sewn into it are dog ears. Seven previous trophies of glorious gladitorial...wait, what? Seven? How...where...? Why seven? "Don't dogs gots two?" she wonders aloud, before confusing herself even more. Maybe they don't have two? How many did she have?! "Reta...fought...seven eared dog?" Neither the words nor the memory seem to roll off her tongue. "Chuffy! I ever fought seven eared dog?"
Reta would spend much of her meal "playing with her food," or at least any that happens to still be moving. If cooked dead snails are boring, she retrieves her remaining caterpillars one by one, stretching them out and trying to tie them into knots, or holding them over the flames. While she only picks at her plate, she absolutely drinks the cider:
Overwhelmed by the Great Chief's awe-inspiring presence, Reta's neck twitches when the sacred voice not only speaks to her, but mentions the word "dogs." Her enormous head slowly rotates behind her shoulder, almost approaching an owl's level as you wonder if her neck will snap from the strain. Actually, you could swear you do hear some splintering. Reta doesn't appear to care: a toothy grin creeps up her face, one eye spasming while the other narrows, looking not at Poog so much as through him. "Me not get pomeranian yet. Finally...it not make fool of me again. Time of Reta destiny at hand." Curtseying again before she spins the rest of her body around to match her head, Reta does not take much notice of the important map or its forewarning of Vorka. All the day's fleeting notions of becoming new Queen Chief are washed away, replaced with a Bigbaddyness both creepy and cringe-inducing. You're not sure if her guidance spell wore off or just decided to slowly back away from the grinning gobliness. Fire, games and cruel combat. Her glee is one beyond reason.
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