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More Mild Misadventures of Gunk the Goblin
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<blockquote data-quote="Gnostic Goblin" data-source="post: 9538959" data-attributes="member: 7048243"><p><strong>Troll Tales and Tarnished Trust</strong></p><p></p><p>The Grog’n’Ards Tavern was alive with the clamour of adventurers, townsfolk, and the unmistakable twang of Ard the Bard’s lute. Despite his advancing years, Ard’s fingers still danced across the strings like a younger man’s. His voice, however, had all the warmth of an irate crow.</p><p></p><p>“Spoons!” Ard barked, pointing a gnarled finger at the adventuring party huddled around a table. “Did you lot know the spoons you sold me were cursed?”</p><p></p><p>The rogue, lounging with his feet on the table, waved a dismissive hand. “Cursed? Please. They were goblin spoons. What did you expect? Class?”</p><p></p><p>“I expected them not to turn into snakes halfway through a stew!” Ard retorted.</p><p></p><p>The fighter crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “We didn’t know. Honest. The goblins were, let’s say, less than forthcoming about their tableware.”</p><p></p><p>Merrick, the wizard, adjusted his glasses nervously. “And to be fair, Ard, the snakes weren’t venomous.”</p><p></p><p>“Not the point!” Ard snapped. “This is a tavern, not an impromptu snake pit!”</p><p></p><p>From a nearby table, a grizzled man chimed in, raising his tankard. “That’s what you get for trusting goblins! Everyone knows you can’t trust a goblin!”</p><p></p><p>At that moment, a voice slithered into the conversation. “Ahem. I resent that.”</p><p></p><p>The party turned as one, spotting the small, mud-caked figure emerging from the shadows near the hearth. Gunk stood proudly, or as proudly as one can while still resembling a bundle of moss with teeth.</p><p></p><p>“You can’t trust hill goblins,” Gunk clarified, brushing twigs from his tattered tunic. “But forest goblins? Completely different story. We’re the good kind of goblin.”</p><p></p><p>The rogue burst out laughing, slapping the table. “Good goblins? That’s a first.”</p><p></p><p>The fighter tilted her head, eyeing Gunk with suspicion. “Forest goblin, huh? What’s a forest goblin doing lurking in a tavern?”</p><p></p><p>“Simple,” Gunk said, puffing out his chest. “I’ve got information. Valuable information. Dangerous information. The kind of information that saves villages. And because I’m so trustworthy, I’ll share it. For free.”</p><p></p><p>Ard snorted. “If a goblin’s offering something for free, it’s because they’ve already picked your pocket.”</p><p></p><p>“I have not picked anyone’s pocket!” Gunk protested, stepping closer to the adventurers. “I have, however, overheard a certain troll planning a certain attack on this very village. And as the only goblin around brave enough to warn you…”</p><p></p><p>The adventurers exchanged glances.</p><p></p><p>“Why would a troll care about attacking a village?” Merrick asked.</p><p></p><p>“Because he’s a troll!” Gunk exclaimed. “Big, mean, ugly, smelly. He doesn’t need a reason! He’s up there right now, in his cave at the top of the forest, sharpening his teeth and muttering about squishing humans. Do you want to risk it?”</p><p></p><p>“Do we believe him?” the fighter muttered to the group.</p><p></p><p>The rogue shrugged. “Goblins lie. But trolls do smash things.”</p><p></p><p>“I think we should listen,” the cleric said, in a low, growly voice. The others looked at the massive black bear sitting at the table.</p><p></p><p>“You’re only saying that because you are a bear,” Merrick said, wincing.</p><p></p><p>“I’m still a cleric!” the bear snapped. “And I know what it’s like to be unfairly judged based on appearances.”</p><p></p><p>“You did eat a honey cake that wasn’t yours yesterday,” Merrick pointed out.</p><p></p><p>“That was a personal struggle,” the bear muttered.</p><p></p><p>The fighter rubbed her temples. “Fine. If there’s even a chance this troll’s a threat, we’ll deal with it. But you,” she jabbed a finger at Gunk “are coming with us.”</p><p></p><p>“Me?!” Gunk yelped. “Oh no, you misunderstand. I was simply…”</p><p></p><p>“Showing us the way,” the fighter interrupted.</p><p></p><p>Merrick smirked. “Unless you’re lying about the troll.”</p><p></p><p>Gunk gulped, his grin faltering. “Lying? Me? Perish the thought! No, no, I’ll… I’ll lead you right to him. You’ll see!”</p><p></p><p>As the party gathered their weapons, Gunk adjusted the twig in his hair, trying to look “forest goblin chic.” As they walked out of the tavern into the crisp morning air, Ard called after them:</p><p></p><p>“If you survive, bring back something not cursed this time!”</p><p></p><p>Gunk trudged ahead of the group, muttering under his breath. “Trustworthy, huh? This is why I should’ve just stayed in the forest.”</p><p></p><p></p><p>To Be Continued…</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Gnostic Goblin, post: 9538959, member: 7048243"] [B]Troll Tales and Tarnished Trust[/B] The Grog’n’Ards Tavern was alive with the clamour of adventurers, townsfolk, and the unmistakable twang of Ard the Bard’s lute. Despite his advancing years, Ard’s fingers still danced across the strings like a younger man’s. His voice, however, had all the warmth of an irate crow. “Spoons!” Ard barked, pointing a gnarled finger at the adventuring party huddled around a table. “Did you lot know the spoons you sold me were cursed?” The rogue, lounging with his feet on the table, waved a dismissive hand. “Cursed? Please. They were goblin spoons. What did you expect? Class?” “I expected them not to turn into snakes halfway through a stew!” Ard retorted. The fighter crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “We didn’t know. Honest. The goblins were, let’s say, less than forthcoming about their tableware.” Merrick, the wizard, adjusted his glasses nervously. “And to be fair, Ard, the snakes weren’t venomous.” “Not the point!” Ard snapped. “This is a tavern, not an impromptu snake pit!” From a nearby table, a grizzled man chimed in, raising his tankard. “That’s what you get for trusting goblins! Everyone knows you can’t trust a goblin!” At that moment, a voice slithered into the conversation. “Ahem. I resent that.” The party turned as one, spotting the small, mud-caked figure emerging from the shadows near the hearth. Gunk stood proudly, or as proudly as one can while still resembling a bundle of moss with teeth. “You can’t trust hill goblins,” Gunk clarified, brushing twigs from his tattered tunic. “But forest goblins? Completely different story. We’re the good kind of goblin.” The rogue burst out laughing, slapping the table. “Good goblins? That’s a first.” The fighter tilted her head, eyeing Gunk with suspicion. “Forest goblin, huh? What’s a forest goblin doing lurking in a tavern?” “Simple,” Gunk said, puffing out his chest. “I’ve got information. Valuable information. Dangerous information. The kind of information that saves villages. And because I’m so trustworthy, I’ll share it. For free.” Ard snorted. “If a goblin’s offering something for free, it’s because they’ve already picked your pocket.” “I have not picked anyone’s pocket!” Gunk protested, stepping closer to the adventurers. “I have, however, overheard a certain troll planning a certain attack on this very village. And as the only goblin around brave enough to warn you…” The adventurers exchanged glances. “Why would a troll care about attacking a village?” Merrick asked. “Because he’s a troll!” Gunk exclaimed. “Big, mean, ugly, smelly. He doesn’t need a reason! He’s up there right now, in his cave at the top of the forest, sharpening his teeth and muttering about squishing humans. Do you want to risk it?” “Do we believe him?” the fighter muttered to the group. The rogue shrugged. “Goblins lie. But trolls do smash things.” “I think we should listen,” the cleric said, in a low, growly voice. The others looked at the massive black bear sitting at the table. “You’re only saying that because you are a bear,” Merrick said, wincing. “I’m still a cleric!” the bear snapped. “And I know what it’s like to be unfairly judged based on appearances.” “You did eat a honey cake that wasn’t yours yesterday,” Merrick pointed out. “That was a personal struggle,” the bear muttered. The fighter rubbed her temples. “Fine. If there’s even a chance this troll’s a threat, we’ll deal with it. But you,” she jabbed a finger at Gunk “are coming with us.” “Me?!” Gunk yelped. “Oh no, you misunderstand. I was simply…” “Showing us the way,” the fighter interrupted. Merrick smirked. “Unless you’re lying about the troll.” Gunk gulped, his grin faltering. “Lying? Me? Perish the thought! No, no, I’ll… I’ll lead you right to him. You’ll see!” As the party gathered their weapons, Gunk adjusted the twig in his hair, trying to look “forest goblin chic.” As they walked out of the tavern into the crisp morning air, Ard called after them: “If you survive, bring back something not cursed this time!” Gunk trudged ahead of the group, muttering under his breath. “Trustworthy, huh? This is why I should’ve just stayed in the forest.” To Be Continued… [/QUOTE]
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