NOW LIVE! X Marks the Spot: Piratical Resources for your 5E game

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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Goonalan" data-source="post: 3660274" data-attributes="member: 16069">Frangipani Basket thought himself a good soul, loyal to his friends, eager to help others, a good listener, kind, caring, considerate. He hated the way they had become though, since the advent of the outsiders, and in particular- HIM. He remembered with fondness what it used to be like in the mine, how the time passed so swiftly, sure the work was hard but it gave purpose to his existence, helped to define him, make him feel important, a part of the collective- the food was good as well, and the comradeship. He felt something warm inside- friends, he loved the chat, the banter, the songs, the fact that they worked together- and yet, seemingly, as one. He remembered the face of his best friend Simon Chaffinch, his crooked smile, his pudgy nose, one ear slightly lower than the other, the twinkle in his eye, that spark of life, he drifted a little. It was hard work, the mining, it left him calloused and sore, and yet the thought of it brought a tear to his eye. He missed it madly. He took up his journal again, trying desperately to think of something good to write.The moment passed.He put the book down, a noise…WHACKThe door is smashed open.Strange he thought. I wonder what…BOOO-ooooomFor some odd reason he only caught the first syllable of the explosion. I’ve got a splitting headache he thought; he reaches up to touch the spot only to discover the top half of his head is missing.I’m dead he thought. Then no more.“Goblins, dearie.”The Professor nods, adjusts his cravat, Auntie Edie clunk-clicks another cartridge into the chamber of her Heckler & Koch, fires again from her one good, titanium and cobalt chrome, hip.BOOOOOMThe last Goblin, soaked through with the blood of his former compatriots, scrambles and slips to his feet, wrenches open the door in front of him and flees screaming.“AAaaaaaarrrrrgggggghhh.”“Where’s he off to?” Auntie Edie adjusts her dress, one of her slippers has come off, she bends to retrieve it, “oooow, my back”, and then straightens up, errant slipper back in place.The Professor, a tall thin late middle-aged man, well-dressed, a dapper gent, with a tailored suit, a crisp white hankie in pocket- folded just-so, a nice hat, a Homburg- new, set at a somewhat jaunty angle; he shuffles over to where Frangipani Basket was sitting, lifts up and then scans through the Goblin’s journal. “I think he’s going to get his friends.” He offers, not looking up, and then reads on.“Oh- that’ll be nice.”Auntie Edie watches The Professor for a moment, “what’s it say, the book?”The Professor clears his throat and then reads, affecting an accent.“I av not et Simon Chaffinch, he iz ded ryt enuff, but I dyd not et im- onest.”He stops reading.“That’s nice.” Auntie states and then looks around at the bloody tangle that surrounds them.“So this is the guardroom?”“Was, my dear lady- was the guardroom.”The Professor dives into his pockets produces, a pen, a cigarette lighter, and a cigarette case, he shuffles them in his hands until they come apart and then come back together again, in a new shape. He bends low, retrieves something from a hitherto unseen compartment within the heel of his shoe, a pair of highly polished brown Brogues. Continues to twist and shape the objects in his hands- seconds later he’s finished, smoking a Gitanes, and holding what seems to be a pistol in his hand.“They’re coming.” He states, cigarette bobbing.“What?” I’m a little deaf, dearie.” Auntie replies.“I said madam- they are coming.” He pronounces every word, in perfect English, for good measure he nods towards the door through which the surviving Goblin fled.“Oh.” Auntie turns to look at the door, then back again at The Professor, “that’s a nice hat you’ve got- is it new?”The Professor nods and grins. “Yes, Auntie it is, thank you.”Auntie rummages in her handbag comes out with a much abused paper bag, she reaches out to The Professor. “Want a toffee? Sticks to yer teef.” She grins and clacks her dentures.From beyond the open door comes the sound of screams- if not warlike then certainly fractious.The Professor, hands up, declines. Auntie looks inside the bag, decides better of it, and stows the sweets.The approaching screams are much louder now.“I do believe they’re coming, and by the sound of things there are quite a few of them- madam.” He half-bows and points towards the door.Auntie Edie shuffles over, nearer to the opening, grabs at a section of her weapon below the barrel, clunk-clicks a… well not a cartridge, something bigger, something that makes a throatier noise, into the chamber, hoists the Heckler slightly. And fires.KERUUNKSomething spins out in a flash and…BOOOOOM-OM-OM-OMExplodes momentarily creating a fireball, the flash of light illuminates fully Auntie Edie, pronounced E-D, in all her splendour; a very short, very old lady, balancing a hat brimming with fruit, in a yellow with pink flowers dress, support stockings, and a crumpled pair of tartan slippers, a large handbag over her shoulder tucked tight under her arm.“I’m 87 you know.” She states to the fragments of Goblins that decorate the corridor beyond. Next week: A nice cup of tea and an Auntie massacre.</blockquote>

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