Post by Deleted on Oct 1, 2010 16:36:04 GMT
Know quite a few people write great bios which I love reading - here is Gumbo Thumpit my goblin barb built for fun.
Gumbo Thumpit
Sandwiched between the Rift Valley and The Swamp of Decay lies the fetid field where you can find the remnants of the Legions of Nublash. Uncomfortably situated near the pink-skin’s town of Ascension, it was in truth a pitiful location for the once great tribe and every goblin knew it. They couldn’t even really lay claim to the whole place, such as it was, what with the Krenshars to the south and the undead to the north they were more like prisoners.
Sat angrily on his throne, well at least that’s what he called it but everyone knew it was just an upturned bulette carapace, Goblin Commander Yessir started spouting off as usual….
‘why me live here in leech field with you arsehats and gets smashed up every time pink skins decides they wants to look for the stupid Hat of Immorality.’
Gumbo wasn’t even listening, he had heard it all before. Since the tribe had lost its potency the camp had been left largely un-raided. In recent months however things had changed and not for the better, party after party of over pumped psychopaths kept appearing through the mystical grave to the south. These bands routinely burst straight through the guards into the Goblin Commander’s tent and gave him such a thumping that he would burst into a shower of golden sparks. Then 20 minutes later the Commander would appear, sat back on his ‘throne’, ready for the next thrashing.
The first few times it happened the whole tribe had fallen about laughing for three days but the joke was now wearing a bit thin and the Commander was looking rather de-shevelled from all the beatings. If Gumbo could be bothered to think about it he might have even felt a bit sorry for him but being a goblin he couldn’t be bothered. Instead Gumbo picked up a rusty morningstar, which had been disguarded by the last group of power hungry adventurers who had breezed though. He started swinging the weapon around his head at the infernal mosquitoes that plagued the camp. Meanwhile the Commander ranted on and on….
“..even the fish-breathed kodolts gotit bloody easier than me….I wants that Hat of Immorality and once I’m Immoral I’ll bloody well kick the brains out of any bastard from Arsextension that tries to makes me burst into golden raindrops…in fact I will bloody well kick the brains outta everybloodybody and then I’ll dine on pink flesh every night of the week and it gonna be served to me by naked drow princesses…do you bloody well hear me……some goblin go get that hat for me…I wants to be Immoral and I wants a volunteer goblin and I wants one right NOW…you hear me you bloody snivelling cretins……”
Those few that were listening shuffled about looking at their filthy green feet, life in the camp was dire for certain but they were all pretty damn sure that a lone gobbo wouldn’t last five seconds outside and pretty damn surer that no gobbo stood a snowball in hells chance of getting within a mile of the fabled Hat of Immorality.
The Commander however had a plan; his detachment of mildly less incompetent sappers had had a wizard, north of Ascension, staked out for months. He knew the wizard had information concerning the hat, maybe even had the thing itself, problem was none of his spineless under scum had the guts to enter the wizard’s hideout. He would have done it himself but he was too important a goblin if something went wrong….far too important…
“well whose it gonna be or am I gonna have to cut fingers off ‘til I gets a volunteer…”
Gumbo casually swung the morningstar in a wide arc imagining he was one of the heroes who he saw on a daily basis trekking through, the head of the old weapon broke away, the rusty ball hummed through the air for a moment before smashing Commander Yessir in the head…. The Commander burst into a shower of golden sparkles for the third time this week….Gumbo looked at the shaft of the weapon in dismay ”Ooops” was all that came out of his mouth.
It wasn’t long before the shout went up…
’..Gumbo killed the Commander, eat Gumbo ….. eat the Commander too …”
When Commander Yessir reformed on his ‘throne’ a small goblin pup began gnawing on his ear “GEROFF I’M NOT DEAD YOU CRETINS….WHERE IS DAT TRAITOR…” A withered selection of gnarled digits pointed over to where Gumbo had been strung up by his toes and wrapped in bacon. Six cackling shamen stirred a pungent cauldron of bugbear tongue soup which frothed underneath where Gumbo hung. Commander Yessir walked purposely over, the bacon wrapped Gumbo smelled good…..
‘And would almost certainly compliment the sometimes over acidic taste of the shamens’ tongue soup’ he mused for a second.
…but he had another plan….he had a volunteer ….he gave it straight to the trusted up gobbo.
“….I eat you now or you get me Hat of Immorality from wizard, then I eat you…..you chose Gumbo…you chose now or I eat you…”
Gumbo thought about his options…”…I go get Hat of Immorality now and you eat my brother instead…deal?”
Commander Yessir grinned a yellow toothy grin “…deal...now piss off quick before I reverse my head…” he slashed the ties on Gumbo’s feet and the scrawny little jerk fell headlong into the Shamens’ boiling soup with a scream….yes the goblin Commander smiled, worst outcome would be another dead goblin…
When he had scrabbled together what small belongings he possessed the Tribe’s shamen chanted a curse over Gumbo:
“get lost now to the wizard below,
return with the Hat and be a hero.
Fail the task or betray the quest
and your hide will be flayed for a minotaur vest…..or maybe pants depending on what mood we are in.”
…… Assessing his chances as somewhere between nothing and nil Gumbo headed off towards the pink skin town of Ascension, complete with a broken morningstar and pieces of bacon still attached …. he wondered if being eaten might have been a better choice….
’oh well at least I have bacon…’ he said to a pipe smoking dragon as he walked through the gates of the town.
Gumbo Thumpit
Sandwiched between the Rift Valley and The Swamp of Decay lies the fetid field where you can find the remnants of the Legions of Nublash. Uncomfortably situated near the pink-skin’s town of Ascension, it was in truth a pitiful location for the once great tribe and every goblin knew it. They couldn’t even really lay claim to the whole place, such as it was, what with the Krenshars to the south and the undead to the north they were more like prisoners.
Sat angrily on his throne, well at least that’s what he called it but everyone knew it was just an upturned bulette carapace, Goblin Commander Yessir started spouting off as usual….
‘why me live here in leech field with you arsehats and gets smashed up every time pink skins decides they wants to look for the stupid Hat of Immorality.’
Gumbo wasn’t even listening, he had heard it all before. Since the tribe had lost its potency the camp had been left largely un-raided. In recent months however things had changed and not for the better, party after party of over pumped psychopaths kept appearing through the mystical grave to the south. These bands routinely burst straight through the guards into the Goblin Commander’s tent and gave him such a thumping that he would burst into a shower of golden sparks. Then 20 minutes later the Commander would appear, sat back on his ‘throne’, ready for the next thrashing.
The first few times it happened the whole tribe had fallen about laughing for three days but the joke was now wearing a bit thin and the Commander was looking rather de-shevelled from all the beatings. If Gumbo could be bothered to think about it he might have even felt a bit sorry for him but being a goblin he couldn’t be bothered. Instead Gumbo picked up a rusty morningstar, which had been disguarded by the last group of power hungry adventurers who had breezed though. He started swinging the weapon around his head at the infernal mosquitoes that plagued the camp. Meanwhile the Commander ranted on and on….
“..even the fish-breathed kodolts gotit bloody easier than me….I wants that Hat of Immorality and once I’m Immoral I’ll bloody well kick the brains out of any bastard from Arsextension that tries to makes me burst into golden raindrops…in fact I will bloody well kick the brains outta everybloodybody and then I’ll dine on pink flesh every night of the week and it gonna be served to me by naked drow princesses…do you bloody well hear me……some goblin go get that hat for me…I wants to be Immoral and I wants a volunteer goblin and I wants one right NOW…you hear me you bloody snivelling cretins……”
Those few that were listening shuffled about looking at their filthy green feet, life in the camp was dire for certain but they were all pretty damn sure that a lone gobbo wouldn’t last five seconds outside and pretty damn surer that no gobbo stood a snowball in hells chance of getting within a mile of the fabled Hat of Immorality.
The Commander however had a plan; his detachment of mildly less incompetent sappers had had a wizard, north of Ascension, staked out for months. He knew the wizard had information concerning the hat, maybe even had the thing itself, problem was none of his spineless under scum had the guts to enter the wizard’s hideout. He would have done it himself but he was too important a goblin if something went wrong….far too important…
“well whose it gonna be or am I gonna have to cut fingers off ‘til I gets a volunteer…”
Gumbo casually swung the morningstar in a wide arc imagining he was one of the heroes who he saw on a daily basis trekking through, the head of the old weapon broke away, the rusty ball hummed through the air for a moment before smashing Commander Yessir in the head…. The Commander burst into a shower of golden sparkles for the third time this week….Gumbo looked at the shaft of the weapon in dismay ”Ooops” was all that came out of his mouth.
It wasn’t long before the shout went up…
’..Gumbo killed the Commander, eat Gumbo ….. eat the Commander too …”
When Commander Yessir reformed on his ‘throne’ a small goblin pup began gnawing on his ear “GEROFF I’M NOT DEAD YOU CRETINS….WHERE IS DAT TRAITOR…” A withered selection of gnarled digits pointed over to where Gumbo had been strung up by his toes and wrapped in bacon. Six cackling shamen stirred a pungent cauldron of bugbear tongue soup which frothed underneath where Gumbo hung. Commander Yessir walked purposely over, the bacon wrapped Gumbo smelled good…..
‘And would almost certainly compliment the sometimes over acidic taste of the shamens’ tongue soup’ he mused for a second.
…but he had another plan….he had a volunteer ….he gave it straight to the trusted up gobbo.
“….I eat you now or you get me Hat of Immorality from wizard, then I eat you…..you chose Gumbo…you chose now or I eat you…”
Gumbo thought about his options…”…I go get Hat of Immorality now and you eat my brother instead…deal?”
Commander Yessir grinned a yellow toothy grin “…deal...now piss off quick before I reverse my head…” he slashed the ties on Gumbo’s feet and the scrawny little jerk fell headlong into the Shamens’ boiling soup with a scream….yes the goblin Commander smiled, worst outcome would be another dead goblin…
When he had scrabbled together what small belongings he possessed the Tribe’s shamen chanted a curse over Gumbo:
“get lost now to the wizard below,
return with the Hat and be a hero.
Fail the task or betray the quest
and your hide will be flayed for a minotaur vest…..or maybe pants depending on what mood we are in.”
…… Assessing his chances as somewhere between nothing and nil Gumbo headed off towards the pink skin town of Ascension, complete with a broken morningstar and pieces of bacon still attached …. he wondered if being eaten might have been a better choice….
’oh well at least I have bacon…’ he said to a pipe smoking dragon as he walked through the gates of the town.