They're coming out of the ground, they're coming out of the damn ground, game over man, game over man!!!!
"Goblin Sorcerery? That's bullcrap. A Goblin couldn't enchant the backside of a sick goat to- Well, you get what I'm saying."
"I pick your fleas, you pick mine. Well, that would be if either of us had fleas. Haha, right?"
Most know the love that goblins have for mushrooms. Few know the lengths they will go to obtain their delicacy.
A slightly atypical stinking swamp festering with goblins
Sometimes the simple solutions are best..
To be sure, the Dirdums are fair teeming with goblins.
Captain Wandern, ship’s log.
An outcaste goblin with a sadistic streak and a secret talent
Squinzerephtoritzpik, aka Squints, is a simple small time scumbag informant who happens to be from a tribe of goblins with a unique body modification tradition…
Stonedeath is a goblin assassin, but much more than that. His new form allows him to scale walls, fight with uncanny agility, and above all that; he has a hatred for adventurers.
Even the boldest quake with fear of the Kobelyn Cavalry of Terkuss Tahkhan! Especially if they’re on the same side!
This stuff will make you a sexual Red-Frilled Blood Dragon.
Jesk, Orcish gladiator
How empty are their bellies that already so much man and horse flesh cannot fill them?
Excerpt from the Lex Predatoris
Even at the best of times, goblins and alchemy don’t mix well…
He may be a small green goblin but donÃ¢t tell him that or he might show you otherwise.
Nestled among the smaller and less noticed store fronts, hidden among the sundry vendors, and purveyors of beads, cheap jewelry, and meat-on-a-stick products in a small building that smells strongly of hot linen, cotton, soap…and goblin.
An escaped goblin who only wants to live his life to help others. Yet humans and other more advanced races push him down and chase him off.
Jemas Lorne, the most celebrated poet of the age, was found dead, clutching a fragment of verse torn from his journal. The tantalizing fragment spoke of wealth:
Golden sands, empty and cold,
Treasure's crypt, forgotten gold.
Under stone, ancestor's doom,
Noble's prize, troubadour's tomb.
Rumours claim that the poet's father, an eccentric nobleman, had hidden much of his wealth before his death. Perhaps the missing journal has more clues?