Thanks Corran, much appreciated.
Turn 4.5
Meepo dashes ahead, diverts Dartamor, and the others.
They pass through a door they’ve not ventured through before, and into a corridor.
“Blimp out, there’s a trap ed de flare. ”
Meepo hugs the left wall skitters forward.
Dartamor translates, “Careful stay left, there’s a trap ahead.”
Aleso and Saradomin creep after, careful to hug the wall.
Grand Alf has other ideas; he jumps on the spot for a second or two.
“Jump. Jump. Jump around.”
And he’s off and running, he leaps.
FWONK
The trapdoor opens, with Grand Alf still stood on it, he leaps again.
“JUMP Around.”
And lands on the far lip of the pit- just, claps his hands together, grins, and follows on.
The group reconvene at a locked door, Dartamor gets to work.
“We saw the Gnome, he’s getting better, another day and he’ll be up and about- I bet he has a story to tell. Pelor praise his lost soul.” Aleso adds to the mix.
Saradomin nods, “May St. Cuthbert save him.”
The door’s open, and the group head off into the huge vaulted dragon corridor, the Goblin’s patch.
Silently they sneak on- towards a half-open door, from which the sound of activity spills.
EEEErrrrrrr
The door opens into chaos- Goblins dozens of them, women and children only, they scream and run pell-mell.
“They’re comin.”
“Don’t ea' uz.”
“Kill t' intruders.”
“Sev wee fra t' Goblin slayers.”
Grand Alf seizes the moment.
“I am Grand Alf the Once Lucid, if you’d just like to cease this running about… I said if you’d just like to stop this running about, and your infernal toottling… I can’t understand a word your saying.”
Grand Alf shrugs- no use.
Meepo dashes in and punches a Goblin kid, very brave.
Aleso and Saradomin grab him; he’s kicking air as they haul him out.
“You absolute cad and bounder…”
“There’s really no need for that…”
“I think you should be ashamed of yourself…”
“Say sorry.”
The pair shake Meepo.
“Tell deez two, me smash Goblins.”
Meepo shouts at Dartamor. The Half-Elf shakes his head- no.
“Listun ter them- yous did wrong, nah kill females and god-forbids.”
Aleso and Saradomin continue shaking Meepo.
“Say you’re sorry Meepo.”
“Say you’re sorry 'bout dat.” Dartamor translates.
Meepo looks forlorn, grizzles a bit.
“Say you’re sorry 'bout dat.” Dartamor repeats.
“Sorry.”
Aleso and Saradomin let Meepo down.
“Now think about what you’ve done.” Aleso states.
“You should be ashamed of yourself.” Saradomin finishes.
Meepo wanders off. Dartamor steps up to the plate, again, he can speak the Goblin tongue as well.
“Wea'ar not 'eear ta 'urt theur. Thy leada 'as abandoned theur. It 'ood be best if theur wor ta leev. Bur fust tell wee orl 'a' theur norrz abaht dis place.”
A large Goblin matriarch steps forward.
“Ah'm Trixie, concubine o' Durnn, t' bugga 'as scarpered. Gone bela teur t' Ahtcast. T' Ahtcast is mad-plant bloke wi' giant ‘Crowk’ as pet. It is dangerous bela, onny cleva or strong Goblins may nip on bela, 'n chief. Naw theur let wee nip on.”
Dartamor translates Trixie’s words to the others.
“Ask her where the adventurers went.”
Dartamor complies, Trixie replies.
“'E sent 'em bela, bea' 'em bad fust, 'appen killed 'un o' 'em. 'E 'as eur gurt chest, 'e keeps summa' i' theear, 'e sez it’s 'is food- it’s bloody.”
Dartamor translates again.
Aleso and Saradomin look sickened- angry.
“We should go now- below.” Aleso is eager.
“St. Cuthbert calls me.” Saradomin adds.
The divine duo make their way through the Goblins, to a set of large double doors- that stand open. They move inside.
Dartamor and a skipping Grand Alf follow on; Meepo stays a while- there are lots of Goblins staring at him, then thinks better of it and rushes to Dartamor’s side.
They enter a huge room, another smashed tower, all the floors above are missing, in the centre a gaping hole, twisted vines spill over the edge into the inky black.
Grand Alf spits down the hole- listens to see if he can hear the goober land.
At the far side of the chamber are the remains of a crude throne, obviously Durnn’s perch, before it a lake of blood with the stencil-shape of a treasure chest in it.
Saradomin tests a vine.
“It will be a difficult descent but St. Cuthbert will see us down safely.”
He starts to ready himself, Dartamor rushes over.
“No, we’ve got to get the Goblins out, the women and children, think what will happen if we go below and leave them here with the Kobolds?”
They Lost Boys turn to look at Meepo, he’s no idea what they’re talking about- he tries a mischievous grin, it has the desired affect.
“By Pelor he’s right.” Aleso states, and claps his hand to his brow for good measure- thinking, “but there’s only one way out- through the Kobolds.”
“I will broker a truce.” Saradomin states and strides off- the others exchange glances, Saradomin is coming out of his shell at last, they follow him out.
Ten minutes later a rag-tag army of screaming and bawling Goblins are waiting on their side of the pit, in the corridor to the Kobold’s stronghold.
The Lost Boys and Meepo head over to pave the way.
Dartamor has to do all the talking.
Back in the Kobold chamber the Guards et al are arriving, soon Isdrayl, and all the others are present- the meeting is quorate.
Dartamor explains the situation and they get down to plea bargaining.
“Tell them this-”, Saradomin starts, “that these feeble Goblins should be let through in order to make a new life for themselves with the aid of St. Cuthbert’s divine grace they will mend their wonton ways and live lives of calm, peace and inner tranquillity.”
Dartamor gulps, not sure there is a Kobold word for ‘tranquillity’. Saradomin nods for him to translate.
“Deez feeble Goblins should be let through in order ter make a nicked loife fe themselves wi' de aid o' St. Cuthbert’s divine grace dale mend their wonton ways and live lives o' cam, peace and inner tranquillity.”
The Kobolds huddle- whisper, there’s a quick show of hands, it seems the totalitarian regime is slipping.
Isdrayl steps forward.
“Norra chance, we eat dem.”
Kobolds cheer and lick their lips.
“Tell them”, Aleso tries, “that the Light of our Lord Pelor must guide our hand in all things, that the sunshine of existence, of life, is bestowed to all- ours is not to snuff out of that light… Unless they’re really nasty. Leave that last bit off though.”
Dartamor shrugs, repeats in Kobold.
“De Light o' us Lord Peler must guide us fork in all things, dat de sunshine o' existence, o' loife, is bestowed ter all- os is not ter snuff outi dat light.”
The Kobolds huddle again, a quick vote, here comes Isdrayl again.
“Nope, still nah chance, we eat dem.”
Kobolds cheer and lick their lips.
“I’ll sort this out.” Grand Alf steps into the spotlight.
“Translate- away.”
He draws himself up to his full height.
“You are sick.”
“Yer sick.”
“Sick in the head.”
“Sick in de barnet.”
“Sick in the head if you think that your strength is a tool to use.”
“Sick in de barnet if yous think dat yer strength is a tewl ter use.”
“To persecute the weak.”
“Ter persecute de weak.”
“Just because they’re different.”
“Juss because they’re different.”
“More Goblinie… or taller, even, than you.”
“More Goblinie… er taller, evun, than yous.”
“You are better than this.”
“Yer scutty than this.”
“You are the mighty Scousers.”
“Yer de mighty Scousers.”
“You are brave Kobolds- honourable.”
“Yer bruv Kobolds- 'onoable.”
“You bring shame to your ancestors.”
“Yous br'n shame ter yer ancestors.”
The big silence.
“Also they are right stringy and bad eating.”
“Also dee ay rite stringy and bad eat'n.”
The Kobolds cheer and shout, Isdrayl salutes and then nods.
A series of nods and the Goblin females and young are lead through, met only by Kobold cheers, there’s little animosity here, soon after the troop are ascending the switchback stone stairs and to the rope, and freedom.
“Good work Grand Alf.” Aleso trails an arm across the Sorcerers shoulders.
Grand Alf turns away and pretends he has something in his eye, it’s watering.
Next Turn: Dragon Key
Turn 4.5
Goblinville
Meepo dashes ahead, diverts Dartamor, and the others.
They pass through a door they’ve not ventured through before, and into a corridor.
“Blimp out, there’s a trap ed de flare. ”
Meepo hugs the left wall skitters forward.
Dartamor translates, “Careful stay left, there’s a trap ahead.”
Aleso and Saradomin creep after, careful to hug the wall.
Grand Alf has other ideas; he jumps on the spot for a second or two.
“Jump. Jump. Jump around.”
And he’s off and running, he leaps.
FWONK
The trapdoor opens, with Grand Alf still stood on it, he leaps again.
“JUMP Around.”
And lands on the far lip of the pit- just, claps his hands together, grins, and follows on.
The group reconvene at a locked door, Dartamor gets to work.
“We saw the Gnome, he’s getting better, another day and he’ll be up and about- I bet he has a story to tell. Pelor praise his lost soul.” Aleso adds to the mix.
Saradomin nods, “May St. Cuthbert save him.”
The door’s open, and the group head off into the huge vaulted dragon corridor, the Goblin’s patch.
Silently they sneak on- towards a half-open door, from which the sound of activity spills.
EEEErrrrrrr
The door opens into chaos- Goblins dozens of them, women and children only, they scream and run pell-mell.
“They’re comin.”
“Don’t ea' uz.”
“Kill t' intruders.”
“Sev wee fra t' Goblin slayers.”
Grand Alf seizes the moment.
“I am Grand Alf the Once Lucid, if you’d just like to cease this running about… I said if you’d just like to stop this running about, and your infernal toottling… I can’t understand a word your saying.”
Grand Alf shrugs- no use.
Meepo dashes in and punches a Goblin kid, very brave.
Aleso and Saradomin grab him; he’s kicking air as they haul him out.
“You absolute cad and bounder…”
“There’s really no need for that…”
“I think you should be ashamed of yourself…”
“Say sorry.”
The pair shake Meepo.
“Tell deez two, me smash Goblins.”
Meepo shouts at Dartamor. The Half-Elf shakes his head- no.
“Listun ter them- yous did wrong, nah kill females and god-forbids.”
Aleso and Saradomin continue shaking Meepo.
“Say you’re sorry Meepo.”
“Say you’re sorry 'bout dat.” Dartamor translates.
Meepo looks forlorn, grizzles a bit.
“Say you’re sorry 'bout dat.” Dartamor repeats.
“Sorry.”
Aleso and Saradomin let Meepo down.
“Now think about what you’ve done.” Aleso states.
“You should be ashamed of yourself.” Saradomin finishes.
Meepo wanders off. Dartamor steps up to the plate, again, he can speak the Goblin tongue as well.
“Wea'ar not 'eear ta 'urt theur. Thy leada 'as abandoned theur. It 'ood be best if theur wor ta leev. Bur fust tell wee orl 'a' theur norrz abaht dis place.”
A large Goblin matriarch steps forward.
“Ah'm Trixie, concubine o' Durnn, t' bugga 'as scarpered. Gone bela teur t' Ahtcast. T' Ahtcast is mad-plant bloke wi' giant ‘Crowk’ as pet. It is dangerous bela, onny cleva or strong Goblins may nip on bela, 'n chief. Naw theur let wee nip on.”
Dartamor translates Trixie’s words to the others.
“Ask her where the adventurers went.”
Dartamor complies, Trixie replies.
“'E sent 'em bela, bea' 'em bad fust, 'appen killed 'un o' 'em. 'E 'as eur gurt chest, 'e keeps summa' i' theear, 'e sez it’s 'is food- it’s bloody.”
Dartamor translates again.
Aleso and Saradomin look sickened- angry.
“We should go now- below.” Aleso is eager.
“St. Cuthbert calls me.” Saradomin adds.
The divine duo make their way through the Goblins, to a set of large double doors- that stand open. They move inside.
Dartamor and a skipping Grand Alf follow on; Meepo stays a while- there are lots of Goblins staring at him, then thinks better of it and rushes to Dartamor’s side.
They enter a huge room, another smashed tower, all the floors above are missing, in the centre a gaping hole, twisted vines spill over the edge into the inky black.
Grand Alf spits down the hole- listens to see if he can hear the goober land.
At the far side of the chamber are the remains of a crude throne, obviously Durnn’s perch, before it a lake of blood with the stencil-shape of a treasure chest in it.
Saradomin tests a vine.
“It will be a difficult descent but St. Cuthbert will see us down safely.”
He starts to ready himself, Dartamor rushes over.
“No, we’ve got to get the Goblins out, the women and children, think what will happen if we go below and leave them here with the Kobolds?”
They Lost Boys turn to look at Meepo, he’s no idea what they’re talking about- he tries a mischievous grin, it has the desired affect.
“By Pelor he’s right.” Aleso states, and claps his hand to his brow for good measure- thinking, “but there’s only one way out- through the Kobolds.”
“I will broker a truce.” Saradomin states and strides off- the others exchange glances, Saradomin is coming out of his shell at last, they follow him out.
Ten minutes later a rag-tag army of screaming and bawling Goblins are waiting on their side of the pit, in the corridor to the Kobold’s stronghold.
The Lost Boys and Meepo head over to pave the way.
Dartamor has to do all the talking.
Back in the Kobold chamber the Guards et al are arriving, soon Isdrayl, and all the others are present- the meeting is quorate.
Dartamor explains the situation and they get down to plea bargaining.
“Tell them this-”, Saradomin starts, “that these feeble Goblins should be let through in order to make a new life for themselves with the aid of St. Cuthbert’s divine grace they will mend their wonton ways and live lives of calm, peace and inner tranquillity.”
Dartamor gulps, not sure there is a Kobold word for ‘tranquillity’. Saradomin nods for him to translate.
“Deez feeble Goblins should be let through in order ter make a nicked loife fe themselves wi' de aid o' St. Cuthbert’s divine grace dale mend their wonton ways and live lives o' cam, peace and inner tranquillity.”
The Kobolds huddle- whisper, there’s a quick show of hands, it seems the totalitarian regime is slipping.
Isdrayl steps forward.
“Norra chance, we eat dem.”
Kobolds cheer and lick their lips.
“Tell them”, Aleso tries, “that the Light of our Lord Pelor must guide our hand in all things, that the sunshine of existence, of life, is bestowed to all- ours is not to snuff out of that light… Unless they’re really nasty. Leave that last bit off though.”
Dartamor shrugs, repeats in Kobold.
“De Light o' us Lord Peler must guide us fork in all things, dat de sunshine o' existence, o' loife, is bestowed ter all- os is not ter snuff outi dat light.”
The Kobolds huddle again, a quick vote, here comes Isdrayl again.
“Nope, still nah chance, we eat dem.”
Kobolds cheer and lick their lips.
“I’ll sort this out.” Grand Alf steps into the spotlight.
“Translate- away.”
He draws himself up to his full height.
“You are sick.”
“Yer sick.”
“Sick in the head.”
“Sick in de barnet.”
“Sick in the head if you think that your strength is a tool to use.”
“Sick in de barnet if yous think dat yer strength is a tewl ter use.”
“To persecute the weak.”
“Ter persecute de weak.”
“Just because they’re different.”
“Juss because they’re different.”
“More Goblinie… or taller, even, than you.”
“More Goblinie… er taller, evun, than yous.”
“You are better than this.”
“Yer scutty than this.”
“You are the mighty Scousers.”
“Yer de mighty Scousers.”
“You are brave Kobolds- honourable.”
“Yer bruv Kobolds- 'onoable.”
“You bring shame to your ancestors.”
“Yous br'n shame ter yer ancestors.”
The big silence.
“Also they are right stringy and bad eating.”
“Also dee ay rite stringy and bad eat'n.”
The Kobolds cheer and shout, Isdrayl salutes and then nods.
A series of nods and the Goblin females and young are lead through, met only by Kobold cheers, there’s little animosity here, soon after the troop are ascending the switchback stone stairs and to the rope, and freedom.
“Good work Grand Alf.” Aleso trails an arm across the Sorcerers shoulders.
Grand Alf turns away and pretends he has something in his eye, it’s watering.
Next Turn: Dragon Key