*Snort* Great. The great and mighty Stump sends his little minons to do his work.
Falk hops to his feet, looking the Hobgoblin straight in the eye, despite being easily 3 feet shorter.
And, I might add, Hobble, you should probably watch who you decide to insult. How about you tell us which of Stump's idiot goons decided to mess with the wrong group? Or, more on your intellectual level, what are you called?
Falk appears to be attempting to kill the Hobgoblin with his stare, obviously not planning on backing down, and axe ready for a moment's notice.
Somehow defying gravity by three feet or more, Falk faces down the hobgoblin nose-to-nose. And either it doesn't care or it doesn't realize the amazing sight before him. "I's a hobgoblin, stupid dwarf. And I's Stump's. 'at's all you are knowing. Stump wants knowing why you's here." At this point, he certainly doesn't seem to be impressed or backing down. Whether it's stupidity or saving face or simply doing what he's told, it's hard to say.
Let me assure you from the depths of my blackened soul that I am deeply concerned with the way you and stump feel about me.... oh no wait, that's just a spot of indigestion. You seem new at this friend, so I won't slay you where you stand, but it generally unwise to upset a drow.
That being said, I think its cute that you had the stones to walk up to me. As To why we are here, we are stump's new posse and we have business. If you like, cupcake, you can stay on as my shield bearer.
"I hears you wants fighting, dark elf. I break you soon. I leave you on shield and carry your bones and meat and head, leave on table for all to see." He does that semi-tilt-the-head-to-the-side-partway-while-jutting-the-jaw-forward-thing at Mal, plainly saying 'bring it, bitch.'
Surges good eye loses a little bit of light that had started growing
Aww. I was hoping for an entertaining show. I always have such fun patching up Falk's "play dates".
You get the feeling that he is genuinely upset.
His eye gazes toward the hobgoblin with a bit of what passes for a quizzical look.
If he leaves enough for me to put it back together.
Hobgoblins dream too, just like most humanoids. They have childhoods, full of hopes and fears, good times and bad. They have pets, friends, and toys. This particular hobgoblin had a metal doll growing up, kind of like a robot. Well it shouldn't have looked like a robot, it should have looked like a little human girl, but the stuffing and covering were torn away long before he received it. Well, not so much received it, but found it in one of the homes his parents had him stay in as a child after his tribe had sacked it and killed everyone. Well, not everyone... the little girl had lived for a couple days... they shared the same room and the hobgoblin watched as the girl succumbed to fear, starvation, and her wounds. He played with her things, destroying most of them, but for some reason he grew attached to the doll. He would make it walk and talk, and he would go to sleep holding it. His older brother found out, though, and decided to make a mockery out of him. He had a tribe shaman cast a spell on the doll, which would make it animate and follow the brother's commands. He waiting until one night when the younger brother thought he was alone, watching from the small closet in the room. The younger played with the doll and was suddenly startled when it stood up by itself. Even more so, he was horrified when it spoke to him, eyes glowing like firey embers and small metal jaw opening and closing. He barely heard the words as fear took over as he backpedaled across the room. The older brother rushed out just then, laughing and pointing and cursing him. He then spoke a word of magic and the doll rushed the young hobgoblin, attacking him with the edges of its own arms and legs. Screaming, the young one ran from the room, from the house, and never once looked back.
Now, years later, after surviving two decades of life through strength and brutality and fearlessness, the same young hobgoblin finds itself staring into the face of that very doll, all grown up just like him. It speaks, but he doesn't hear the words, the buzzing in his ears drowning out all sound, his vision tunneling until all he can see is the macabre mechanical creature before him. Slackjawed and tense, he stands stock still waiting for it to attack, just like it did so long ago.
Judging the situation to be taking a turn for the worse, and not wanting to endanger her chances at getting out of this terrible boil on the ass of civilization, it feels like just the time to intervene.
Pulling out a delicate comb, Ches begins to brush her long hair. The move is calculated, her friends know, to let her check the placement of her quick-release alchemical goodies. Certain that they are all in place, she clears her throat loudly, until the hobgoblin eyes her.
With a few hand motions she conjures a small, leather-bound tome, opens it randomly and waves her free hand over the empty pages, filling them with words. She lets the book lift out of her hand, glide over in front of the hobgoblin and hover there.
Since you seem to enjoy carrying messages, I hope you will be delighted to carry one for me. I thought your master would appreciate a bit of light reading, since it seems the entertainment is so... dull... around here. When he asks, you may tell him that we would be delighted to share his table, and his 'wine,' thank you.
Before the hobgoblin can screw his face up at her in confusion, Ches makes a shooing motion with her hands.
As the impact of Surgeon's words take their effect, Ches' book floats over to the hobgoblin. Barely able to peel his eyes away, but somehow now able to take in the entire scene before him (the far too tall midget dwarf, the drow with the wicked grin, the demon woman, and their mechanical menagarie), he picks up "...messages...your master...tell him...." Drawing on some inner strength of flight or fight, he plucks the book from the air, quickly takes 2 steps bacwards, bumping clumsily into the table across from you, turns on his heel, and beelines directly for Stump, handing him the journal. Just as fast, he scurries for the front door, stopping to vomit in the barrel before stepping outside.
Some in the bar watch in contained awe, some chuckle, some seem confused. Stump for his part, watches with a slight grin. Obviously speaking in King's for your collective benefit and without taking his eyes off you, he commands the other hobgoblin still standing at his table,
"Wretch, go outside and kill that pathetic excuse of a guard. Find a replacement from the tribe. Then come back." Wretch hustles off out the barn door.
"So, youz guyz are my new 'posse,' eh? I don' know youz from a hole in the ground. Who are you, and whaddyou doin' in my town?"
| GM: | I know I posted these a little out of order from the order you all replied, but given that it all happened pretty much simultaneously, I thought this order made the most sense/fun. Hope you don't mind. |
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