A goblin, scar across one eye, blinding it as well as a large spiked steel hammer strapped to his back looks into your young eyes with his one good one. His dark red hair drapes down to below his shoulders, and he has some silver mechanisms on one leg, obviously that one leg wouldn't walk without this contraption's aid. He slowly begins to speak, his voice raspy with age, but you can tell that age is not the only cause for his voice, as if fire had burned it before. "Boy, listen. This is important to you. As you know, I am retiring soon as the goblin king. You are the sole successor, but you are an utter wimp. Your older brother Song died, your father Ngezbo was murdered, and your mother with him. You're barely old enough to lead an army, you've only razed one small village, with an army three times the size of the village. what I'm saying is that you're going to screw us over if you don't know how to really command an army. Unfortunately, I must retire. There is hope for you yet though boy. That is my memoirs. Only three have read this book before, Me, your father, and your brother. both were great commanders. Now it is time for the torch to be passed to you." He pulls out a book from a satchel at his side. The leather cover is old and cracked, The elder goblin stands up, leaning on a walking stick as gnarled as he is, walking awkwardly out of the hut. The young goblin looks down at the cover of the book. It reads "Death Trap: A goblin's guide to Dwarven outposts." He opens the front cover, and begins to read.
The dwarf is a strange creature, possibly the most sadistic being in the world, their main god is a god of blood, which they eagerly appease. They are the most creative beings as well, devising new and even crueler ways to brutally murder whoever they feel like. Oftentimes they murder diplomats just for the sake of starting a war, for fun. Because of this, we have waged eternal warfare on their race in hope to eliminate their cruelty, sometimes even forcibly taking their children in order to prevent them from becoming such violent beings. Strangely enough, they are almost entirely defensive, and rarely attack outside of their borders. They also have violent personalities, from being absolutely ecstatic while being rained on by a waterfall inside, but then going outside and getting rained on by real rain they proceed to snap and tear each other limb from limb. As well as these strange mood swings, dwarves will also stop at nothing to obtain the footwear, particularly socks, from our fallen bretheren. We have long since outlawed the taking of live, grown dwarves for science on the subject, as it is deemed too cruel, despite them taking us live, for use in their sick, twisted idea of "science" and entertainment. I do have to give them credit though, they make amazing hooch. This is about me, Stozu Wickedrhyme, and my exploits against this race, and a guide to how their fortresses work.
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This story will be told in third person, as if it is happening. This is obviously going to be a suggestion thread, you tell what to do and I'll incorporate it. Remember, in this story we will be only commanding the goblins, I am the one who decides what demented deathtraps the dwarves use. Trust me, they'll be dorfy in every way.
So, on to the name, what shall our main character's name be (If you didn't catch it, it's the older goblin in the intro)
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Topic: Death Trap: A goblin's guide to Dwarven outposts (Read 16866 times)