Dear goblins of The Complex Terror currently fucking around in my HFPD:
Dudes. Stop trying so hard. You're not going anywhere, so turn off that siege marker already.
Sweetest regards,
Overseer of Orbeagles
PS: How's it smell down there?
It's quite a bit like home, actually-- you disgustingly corpulent waste of skin. I wouldn't expect a bunch of hairy faced cheese eating lushes like yourselves to understand how the delicate aromas of the troll herds and slave cages mingle to produce the unique bouquet that is a PROPER *GOBLIN* fortress, what with your constant vomit inducing binge drinking, repulsive legal system, and stilted social lives-- Even the screams down here are quite soothing and nostalgic to us!
And no, we WONT be giving up so easily, you stupid, mushroom-sucking sycophant! We will siege your hideous blight of a fortress until every last one of us dies trying, and I mean EVERY LAST ONE-- Even our kindred in The Complex Terror back home-- Our deaths will only strengthen their resolve!
signed,
Gobbo McLasher
Lasher for The Complex Terror
C/O Orbeagles;
HFPD complex
[attached is a crude drawing of Orbeagles on fire with arrows shooting all over, surrounded by angry goblins making various forms of provocative gestures and poses, as other goblins appear to be shearing dwaven beards off and making yarn and other mockeries from the shaven hair. The words "Dwarves are fools; Goblins Rule!" have been hastily scrawled over the top, along side the phrase "What we're gonna do to you when we tear down your little fortress" in the margins near the illustration.]