[007] We must not look at goblin men, we must not buy their fruits...
[Video]
[Snuffle snuffle. There's a people-sized Thing covered in fur and blue skin and tusks and wearing an almost comical pair of glasses sniffing at the communicator. It pauses for a moment to prod at it with an oversized claw, then, when it beeps in protest, backs up and kind of hisses at it, showing off rows of shark teeth in the process.
Meet Richie-the-goblin, fellow Barge occupants, or, as he'd tell you, Rukz. It's...kind of the same, right?]
[SPAM]
[He wandered the forest, looking for either shiny, glittering things or maidens wandering unaccompanied. He'd be happy with either; glittering often either accompanied or attracted tender, succulent maidens, so in all likelihood having one would result in the other sooner or later. He picked his way carefully through the underbrush, careful not to make any more noise than he had to -- it tended to scare them away.
A sound broke through the singing birds and the crunch of twigs, a high, clear sound that rose and fell in pitch; singing. Not birdsong or wind whistling through the trees and making it sound like they were singing, actual singing. He was close. Raising his head, ears twitched to try to pinpoint the location and after a few moments he set off in pursuit with a pleased cackle.]
[ooc: Richie has gone overboard and ended up as a goblin. Oh dear. Lock up your daughter, lock up your wife, lock up the back door, run for your life. Or just...you know. Grab your torch and/or pitchfork. Either one.]
[Snuffle snuffle. There's a people-sized Thing covered in fur and blue skin and tusks and wearing an almost comical pair of glasses sniffing at the communicator. It pauses for a moment to prod at it with an oversized claw, then, when it beeps in protest, backs up and kind of hisses at it, showing off rows of shark teeth in the process.
Meet Richie-the-goblin, fellow Barge occupants, or, as he'd tell you, Rukz. It's...kind of the same, right?]
[SPAM]
[He wandered the forest, looking for either shiny, glittering things or maidens wandering unaccompanied. He'd be happy with either; glittering often either accompanied or attracted tender, succulent maidens, so in all likelihood having one would result in the other sooner or later. He picked his way carefully through the underbrush, careful not to make any more noise than he had to -- it tended to scare them away.
A sound broke through the singing birds and the crunch of twigs, a high, clear sound that rose and fell in pitch; singing. Not birdsong or wind whistling through the trees and making it sound like they were singing, actual singing. He was close. Raising his head, ears twitched to try to pinpoint the location and after a few moments he set off in pursuit with a pleased cackle.]
[ooc: Richie has gone overboard and ended up as a goblin. Oh dear. Lock up your daughter, lock up your wife, lock up the back door, run for your life. Or just...you know. Grab your torch and/or pitchfork. Either one.]