TerraDave
5ever, or until 2024
I dont' know if there is any new "crunch" in this, but who doesn't like a big ol' goblin battle?
From his blog.
From his blog.
The Biggie Smalls Chronicles, Part 7
Posted By: WotC_Huscarl, 2/1/2008 12:21:21 PM
With the high priest of Moradin tucked safely into bed and a stack of well-earned mora-dinars tucked safely in our pocketses, we legged it to the bazaar for a spending spree. Biggie fortified mind and body with free-spirited companionship and awoke refreshed with enough treasure remaining to upgrade his armor (all three events being cause for joy).
Once again broke and on the trail of Aunt Nonny, we found ourselves hiking along the road to Tradewind, the next town down the line. The monotony was broken by only two events. The first was Beth (Jarett Farwhere) pointing out that she "likes it* both ways." The second was screaming and sounds of battle from around the bend.
Biggie and Baredd hurried ahead to investigate. The hubbub turned out to be a passel o' goblins, hobgoblins, and bugbears drygulching a lone gypsy-style wagon. The horses had been cut from their traces and were nowhere to be seen -- probably wherever the equally absent driver had run off to.
Baredd was first into the fray, which was surprising given his fungus-like reaction speed. He typically plods up on Biggie's heels instead of the other way round. It was just as well, because the halfling had something else up his puffy sleeve (besides a pair of jokers).
Biggie has carried a sling and a pocketful of ammo since he was eight years old, but he never used it for much except annoying giants and breaking Old Man Cheesebottom's windows. He's long been curious to see what it might do to a goblin, and here was Fate presenting the perfect opportunity.
Instead of tooling up with his beloved short-sword-and-han d-ax combo, Biggie zinged a pellet squarely into a goblin's waxy ear. If you're familiar with the phrase, "in one ear and out the other," then you have a pretty clear mental image of what transpired. It was a wholly satisfying outcome from Biggie's angle.
He didn't have much chance for further experimentation, because the goblins were coming on in a pack with the bugbears snarling right behind.
Still, they were just goblins plus a few of their hillbilly cousins, right? We'd thumped things plenty worse than that. This was nothing for a well-armed posse of slayers to fear.
Turns out goblins crowd a lot of spite into those stunted bodies.
Before you could say "Nonny Farwhere's a doppelganger," runts were everywhere. They're dodgy little boogers and the last things you want double-teaming you. You're never sure whether a goblin is trying to nick you or your purse. Sure they have glass jaws, but they're lined with diamond-edge teeth. Let one anywhere near you with a rusty pig-sticker and you'll find it in your spleen.
Within moments, the bugbears surrounded Baredd and commenced beating him like a rug. One skull-thump from a mallet the size of a cornie-keg and the paladin's knees wobbled, his eyes rolled back, and he dropped flatter than Sister Agnes. As everyone knows, a bugbear in the presence of a prone figure can't resist kicking it in the ribs. By all accounts, that's their chief joy. No matter if the unlucky creature is the bugbear's grandmother; she's in for a stomping, as was Baredd.
A few swift kicks brought him around again, and Baredd gamely popped back onto his feet. Our relief was premature, because the still-woozy paladin was an easy target for a second smack on the bean. Down he went again, and out came the feet for a second round.
Biggie was confident that Baredd's ribs could stand up to a pretty severe punting. He even wondered whether this was some clever ploy by Baredd to keep the bugbears' attention focused on himself and away from the squishier types (Baredd would later try to confirm this but under notably self-serving conditions). Regardless, keeping friends alive was M's job. Biggie is more invested in the making enemies dead portion of the business. To that end, he flanked one of the flankers and set about slicing hamstrings with characteristic gusto.
Before long, matters were well in hand. Baredd was the only one to emerge much worse for wear, on our side anyway. It was Biggie's favorite sort of fight -- one where he waded though enemies without getting scratched.
While prying the last hobgoblin's stiff, greasy fingers from the caravan door, we were met by a shout of, "mercenaries, be ye good or bad?" from within. Everyone else stumbled over their own tongues professing to be good, but Biggie announced himself as the baddest rascal in two boots.
With that question laid to rest and with promises of rich rewards in our future, we plunged into the forest primeval in search of the missing caravan master, who would turn out to be a mistress.
Steve
* Beth was speaking of cake, unfortunately.
Posted By: WotC_Huscarl, 2/1/2008 12:21:21 PM
With the high priest of Moradin tucked safely into bed and a stack of well-earned mora-dinars tucked safely in our pocketses, we legged it to the bazaar for a spending spree. Biggie fortified mind and body with free-spirited companionship and awoke refreshed with enough treasure remaining to upgrade his armor (all three events being cause for joy).
Once again broke and on the trail of Aunt Nonny, we found ourselves hiking along the road to Tradewind, the next town down the line. The monotony was broken by only two events. The first was Beth (Jarett Farwhere) pointing out that she "likes it* both ways." The second was screaming and sounds of battle from around the bend.
Biggie and Baredd hurried ahead to investigate. The hubbub turned out to be a passel o' goblins, hobgoblins, and bugbears drygulching a lone gypsy-style wagon. The horses had been cut from their traces and were nowhere to be seen -- probably wherever the equally absent driver had run off to.
Baredd was first into the fray, which was surprising given his fungus-like reaction speed. He typically plods up on Biggie's heels instead of the other way round. It was just as well, because the halfling had something else up his puffy sleeve (besides a pair of jokers).
Biggie has carried a sling and a pocketful of ammo since he was eight years old, but he never used it for much except annoying giants and breaking Old Man Cheesebottom's windows. He's long been curious to see what it might do to a goblin, and here was Fate presenting the perfect opportunity.
Instead of tooling up with his beloved short-sword-and-han d-ax combo, Biggie zinged a pellet squarely into a goblin's waxy ear. If you're familiar with the phrase, "in one ear and out the other," then you have a pretty clear mental image of what transpired. It was a wholly satisfying outcome from Biggie's angle.
He didn't have much chance for further experimentation, because the goblins were coming on in a pack with the bugbears snarling right behind.
Still, they were just goblins plus a few of their hillbilly cousins, right? We'd thumped things plenty worse than that. This was nothing for a well-armed posse of slayers to fear.
Turns out goblins crowd a lot of spite into those stunted bodies.
Before you could say "Nonny Farwhere's a doppelganger," runts were everywhere. They're dodgy little boogers and the last things you want double-teaming you. You're never sure whether a goblin is trying to nick you or your purse. Sure they have glass jaws, but they're lined with diamond-edge teeth. Let one anywhere near you with a rusty pig-sticker and you'll find it in your spleen.
Within moments, the bugbears surrounded Baredd and commenced beating him like a rug. One skull-thump from a mallet the size of a cornie-keg and the paladin's knees wobbled, his eyes rolled back, and he dropped flatter than Sister Agnes. As everyone knows, a bugbear in the presence of a prone figure can't resist kicking it in the ribs. By all accounts, that's their chief joy. No matter if the unlucky creature is the bugbear's grandmother; she's in for a stomping, as was Baredd.
A few swift kicks brought him around again, and Baredd gamely popped back onto his feet. Our relief was premature, because the still-woozy paladin was an easy target for a second smack on the bean. Down he went again, and out came the feet for a second round.
Biggie was confident that Baredd's ribs could stand up to a pretty severe punting. He even wondered whether this was some clever ploy by Baredd to keep the bugbears' attention focused on himself and away from the squishier types (Baredd would later try to confirm this but under notably self-serving conditions). Regardless, keeping friends alive was M's job. Biggie is more invested in the making enemies dead portion of the business. To that end, he flanked one of the flankers and set about slicing hamstrings with characteristic gusto.
Before long, matters were well in hand. Baredd was the only one to emerge much worse for wear, on our side anyway. It was Biggie's favorite sort of fight -- one where he waded though enemies without getting scratched.
While prying the last hobgoblin's stiff, greasy fingers from the caravan door, we were met by a shout of, "mercenaries, be ye good or bad?" from within. Everyone else stumbled over their own tongues professing to be good, but Biggie announced himself as the baddest rascal in two boots.
With that question laid to rest and with promises of rich rewards in our future, we plunged into the forest primeval in search of the missing caravan master, who would turn out to be a mistress.
Steve
* Beth was speaking of cake, unfortunately.
