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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Dhes" data-source="post: 2283738" data-attributes="member: 15629">If one was, let’s say a wizard, scrying just south of the High Forest on the banks of the Unicorn Run, one would see a gently flowing river; birds making their nests in the trees, and the less pleasant sight of a band of four weary and leaderless goblins making there scraggily camp for the night. Although not such a pleasing sight as the passage of the gentle river, it’s not something one would remark upon. If all this nature did not calm your nerves enough, so that you could get on with your work, and fill-out that order of 20 enchanted swords for the local hero’s band, you could follow the river a bit more north, and you would see what appears to be a donkey tethered to a small smelly tree stump. If you would wish it, although I advise you not to, you could take a closer look and see that the tree stump in question is in fact not a smelly tree stump, but a smelly and spike covered dwarf. The stage has been set; enter our main protagonist, Barronar Warcrown of the noble Warcrown clan.“Get ye moving, ye stupid bloody Dog, me wants to have a nice bloody fire started before night falls. Don’t be telling me that ye have become bloody scared of them bloody trees now.” What Berronar does not know is that his donkey, named Dog for some mysterious reason, can in fact smell the small band of goblins making camp not too far from where Barronar himself wanted to camp. “Fine have it your bloody way stupid dog, I should have never bloody taken ye, bloody useless, never wants to bloody walk any where.” After securing Dog to a nearby tree stump, yes a real tree stump this time, he unknowingly sets of in the direction of the goblin camp in search of some firewood and maybe a nice rabbit or seven. Now that our hero is himself closer to the goblin camp, he too can smell them, well he would be able to smell them is his own oder was not so overpowering. This being the case, Barronar does not notice the goblins till he is right on top of them, so much on top of them that one of them squalls out in pain as the 152 pound dwarf inadvertently places a steel caped boot right in the middle of his groin. “What! ...bloody goblins stealing me bloody firewood and bloody rabbits.” Giving the goblin under foot a good hard kick, sending it head-first crashing into a nearby tree, Barronar faces the castrated goblin’s three companions and squares himself up for a devastating charge. “For the glory of Moradin!”Screaming his war cry, Barronar leaps for the closest goblin, and systematically impales it on the spikes of his armor. As our hero struggles to get up and simultaneously dislodge the now dead goblin from the front of his armor, he does not notice the two remaining goblins teaming up for a counter attack. (At this point you might ask yourself: ‘why did they not runaway, were they scared stiff, stupid or just extremely brave?’ I fear we will never find out.) After a some struggling and tearing of flesh, Barronar finally manages to free himself of the goblin and get back on his feet, just in time to get hit on the front of his head by one of the unlucky goblins, the force of the blow was enough to send the smelly dwarf back down where he landed with a loud squish and crack. Squish and crack? Forests don’t go squish and crack when you land on them? As Barronar struggles to get up he sees the expression of terror on the goblins face. “What are you bloody staring at?” As the remaining goblin flees, our spiky protagonist tries to follow but he finds himself strangely incumbent. Turning around, trying to face the last remaining foe, Barronar sees an arm move out of the corner of his eye. Thinking an attack imminent, the stubby dwarf jumps and rolls to the side, in the process tearing off the head of the last goblin that was, in contradiction to what Barronar thought, not flanking him for a attack, but was in fact stuck on the spikes on the back of the dwarf’s full plate armor. “Oh… so that’s where the squish-crack came from.” Chuckling quietly to himself, the hero of the day walks to a nearby tree and starts rubbing his back against it, trying to dislodge the now quite dead goblin. “It seams these bloody trees do have a use.”His armor free of goblin, well mostly free of goblin, and standing in the middle of a cleared goblin camp, complete with firewood and dead rabbits, Barranor settles down for a good night’s rest. “Ye take the fist watch Dog; I need bloody sleep if we want to make it to Secomber on the morrow.”With a restful nigh behind him, Barranor and his donkey find themselves entering Secomber the next day. “See, I told ye these bloody humans respect Dwarfs, they all get out of our way and wave. Waving your hand in front of ye nose must be some queer human way of showing respect.”</blockquote>

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