Blood Moon Goblins
08-08-2005, 14:58
The Goblin Frontier
It was a cold day, as usual, on Blood Moons northern frontier.
Windblown dust immidiatly turned anything it contacted grey, resulting in what appeared to be a huge, flat plain with almost no features.
Looking closer at this spot, one might determine that a number of bumps appeared to be slightly more ordered than, say, a group of small hills.
On close inspection, it could be determined that this grouping of 'small hills' was, in fact, a group of T-80 MBT's. These in turn are surrounded by a vast, but small scale, tent city previously unseen because, like everything else, the tents are grey.
The first signs of activity are just beggining in the camp, Goblin Sergeants moving from tent to tent, kicking, biting and screaming at the occupants to move it or lose something of great value to them personaly.
Gradualy tank crews assemble and move into their vehicles, soon after plumes of steam and exhaust are rising into the early morning air, preceded by the sound of diesel engines warming up and the creaking of metal expanding.
Likewise the infantry camp nearby is waking up, Goblins assembling in groups to complain, drink and/or fight (purely as a 'warm up'). Assorted bits of armour are polished and weapons are cleaned. As with the tank corps, plumes of steam begin to rise and soon the mess tents are crowded with Goblins doing much the same things they did outside. A meal with Goblins is a very unique experience.
In any case, the entire mob assembling on the boarder had been placed in the charge of Warmaster Urk, who was currently berating a junior officer on general principals. The captain had wandered into the tent looking for something, and Urk had been in a screaming mood.
Shortly thereafter, a slightly deafer captain left with a much expanded vocabulary to pass on to his sergeants, although they already knew most of them, except for "G'rekfalgh', or "Pink skinned son of a diseased troll whore".
"Ver' good yell, dat. One 'o me best yet. Now den, what's da plan from da nobs up a' Gundabad?" Urk squinted at a map layed out on the table in the center of the tent, which displayed an apparently random selection of small model Goblins.
"Dat's last nights game 'o Trolls 'n Kobolds, yer Warlordship. Yer brilliant last minute airstrike allowed joo to retake the board." An aid indicated the mass of sword and spear armed trolls and kobolds piled around the bottom of the board, "and da ver' suprising assassination of da en'my general." At the bottom of the one might notice the hand sticking out, now very pale and very stiff.
"Oh, jah. Dat was one 'o me better games. Now den, what is da sitchoo-ation?"
"Rockbreaker 'imself has sent us ta raid da Orcs in da norf, dis in retaliation fer dem existing in an offensive fashion to us. Were also s'posed ta hold whatever territory we take."
"Dat sounds like a good plan ta me. Get da drummers out dere and les go."
The aid nodded to the Warlord and stepped out of the tent, shaking his head once out of Urks line of sight. Of all the Goblins to be made a Warlord, why did this raid get the one that had no idea what he was doing?
The Goblin (whos name was, suprisingly, Squee) had drawn up a set of plans last night, they were better thank Urks idea for telling the army to run as fast as they could northward until they found something to kill, but since up until last week, Squees sole responsibility had been the maintenance of the Warlords bedroom, they werent very good.
Ah, well.
Ba-BOOM!
In the center of the camp, a Goblin struck the massive war drum broght along for the occasion. The device was as old as Goblin warfare, and civilization for that matter. Basicaly it was a ten foot diameter hide drum, very loud and very, very intimidating to anybody who had never encountered one before, the sound would literaly shake the earth close by, especialy if you had good strong drummers, as was the case.
Aside from making an excellent alarm clock, it could be heard for MILES, which was good or bad, depending on the situation. And Goblins liked the sound, it was almost as good as a really big explosion.
Almost immediatly the camps assorted brothles, bars and mess halls were emptied, cleaned up, dissassembled, packed up and loaded into carts or trucks.
The effeciency with which this was carried out would astonish anybody who knew a Goblin or Goblins. But those that study Goblins would know that they have a very clear priority list, it goes something like this:
5. Food
4. Alchahol
3. Sex
2. Explosions
1. Fighting
Drums meant fighting, or at least he possiblity of fighting, either of the above was good enough.
Thus the Great Raid (as it was being called) moved north, singing such songs as, "Were gonna kill us some Orcs", which had been made up over breakfast but sounded quite good in Goblinese.
(OOC:
Need somebody to RP the Orcs, from what I can gather they are mostly Warhammer-ish, but some tech to make this more interesting would be fine.
Priority will be givin to FKC members.
Others are welcomed to join in, but please have some sensible reason for happening to have a commando team in the area, especialy considering the nations around here which you would have a rather difficult time getting through.)
It was a cold day, as usual, on Blood Moons northern frontier.
Windblown dust immidiatly turned anything it contacted grey, resulting in what appeared to be a huge, flat plain with almost no features.
Looking closer at this spot, one might determine that a number of bumps appeared to be slightly more ordered than, say, a group of small hills.
On close inspection, it could be determined that this grouping of 'small hills' was, in fact, a group of T-80 MBT's. These in turn are surrounded by a vast, but small scale, tent city previously unseen because, like everything else, the tents are grey.
The first signs of activity are just beggining in the camp, Goblin Sergeants moving from tent to tent, kicking, biting and screaming at the occupants to move it or lose something of great value to them personaly.
Gradualy tank crews assemble and move into their vehicles, soon after plumes of steam and exhaust are rising into the early morning air, preceded by the sound of diesel engines warming up and the creaking of metal expanding.
Likewise the infantry camp nearby is waking up, Goblins assembling in groups to complain, drink and/or fight (purely as a 'warm up'). Assorted bits of armour are polished and weapons are cleaned. As with the tank corps, plumes of steam begin to rise and soon the mess tents are crowded with Goblins doing much the same things they did outside. A meal with Goblins is a very unique experience.
In any case, the entire mob assembling on the boarder had been placed in the charge of Warmaster Urk, who was currently berating a junior officer on general principals. The captain had wandered into the tent looking for something, and Urk had been in a screaming mood.
Shortly thereafter, a slightly deafer captain left with a much expanded vocabulary to pass on to his sergeants, although they already knew most of them, except for "G'rekfalgh', or "Pink skinned son of a diseased troll whore".
"Ver' good yell, dat. One 'o me best yet. Now den, what's da plan from da nobs up a' Gundabad?" Urk squinted at a map layed out on the table in the center of the tent, which displayed an apparently random selection of small model Goblins.
"Dat's last nights game 'o Trolls 'n Kobolds, yer Warlordship. Yer brilliant last minute airstrike allowed joo to retake the board." An aid indicated the mass of sword and spear armed trolls and kobolds piled around the bottom of the board, "and da ver' suprising assassination of da en'my general." At the bottom of the one might notice the hand sticking out, now very pale and very stiff.
"Oh, jah. Dat was one 'o me better games. Now den, what is da sitchoo-ation?"
"Rockbreaker 'imself has sent us ta raid da Orcs in da norf, dis in retaliation fer dem existing in an offensive fashion to us. Were also s'posed ta hold whatever territory we take."
"Dat sounds like a good plan ta me. Get da drummers out dere and les go."
The aid nodded to the Warlord and stepped out of the tent, shaking his head once out of Urks line of sight. Of all the Goblins to be made a Warlord, why did this raid get the one that had no idea what he was doing?
The Goblin (whos name was, suprisingly, Squee) had drawn up a set of plans last night, they were better thank Urks idea for telling the army to run as fast as they could northward until they found something to kill, but since up until last week, Squees sole responsibility had been the maintenance of the Warlords bedroom, they werent very good.
Ah, well.
Ba-BOOM!
In the center of the camp, a Goblin struck the massive war drum broght along for the occasion. The device was as old as Goblin warfare, and civilization for that matter. Basicaly it was a ten foot diameter hide drum, very loud and very, very intimidating to anybody who had never encountered one before, the sound would literaly shake the earth close by, especialy if you had good strong drummers, as was the case.
Aside from making an excellent alarm clock, it could be heard for MILES, which was good or bad, depending on the situation. And Goblins liked the sound, it was almost as good as a really big explosion.
Almost immediatly the camps assorted brothles, bars and mess halls were emptied, cleaned up, dissassembled, packed up and loaded into carts or trucks.
The effeciency with which this was carried out would astonish anybody who knew a Goblin or Goblins. But those that study Goblins would know that they have a very clear priority list, it goes something like this:
5. Food
4. Alchahol
3. Sex
2. Explosions
1. Fighting
Drums meant fighting, or at least he possiblity of fighting, either of the above was good enough.
Thus the Great Raid (as it was being called) moved north, singing such songs as, "Were gonna kill us some Orcs", which had been made up over breakfast but sounded quite good in Goblinese.
(OOC:
Need somebody to RP the Orcs, from what I can gather they are mostly Warhammer-ish, but some tech to make this more interesting would be fine.
Priority will be givin to FKC members.
Others are welcomed to join in, but please have some sensible reason for happening to have a commando team in the area, especialy considering the nations around here which you would have a rather difficult time getting through.)