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Atop a savage throne of bone, fur and leather lounges an inhuman handsome man, he of golden locks, of eyes that flickered between the Green of Truth and the Blue of a Beyonder!
Goblin King of Goblin Kings!
Monarch of Idle Torments, Lord of Thieves. He of fair skin tinted with the shade of the flower's stem! His red crystal crown rested lightly on his brow, his black roguishly royal raiment was filched from the skin and silk of beings still living.
What mighty being did not curse this fiend? How vexing was this apex of pests. He had not the power to slaughter the transcendent, but none wished to endure his foul pranks and thefts, for long had been the day that he had last fallen into dire straits.
Had they been able to reach it, a carnival of gods, archdragons, beyonders and assorted supremes would have assaulted his castle.
No, for this, the greatest of goblinkind, the only true enemy is boredom! Bane of all those who live countless years.
This is where you come in, for you are not the Goblin King of Goblin Kings, not even a regular goblin king, nor even goblin nobles.
Wretched humanoids of shades of green, yellow and red with a mismatch of verminous bodyparts, frequently bald wether they be male or female. Your eyes often do not match size, the placement is off,and all of you have ragged pointed ears only beaten in pointed size by your ludicrous noses, for all goblins offer up their all to their monarch, losing what little beauty, power and wits they might have had, but so too is their mortality offered up, for so long as the King breathes, any goblin that dies will merely reappear above his head, none the worse for wear, and all memories of woe will fade, and reckless suicidal frolicking begins anew.
The Goblin King of Kings has struck upon a genius method to stave off his boredom, that the process can result in the ascendance of goblin nobles is a welcome bonus. He has taken to tossing groups of you throughout the realm of Absurdia and beyond, even to the pits of Heck!
He casually gives you goblins a quest and out of love and fear for your monarch you muck about, occasionally even accomplishing these deeds.
Most recently he's been keeping a hand on his normally fickle mood, for a group of you he has sent into a situation most curious.
He has sent goblin knights with their hobbyhorses and goblin nuns of the Prince of Grooms, so called not due to his occasional aid of beleaguered husbands to be, but due to his constant collection of brides that become wives when they die, but though many wish for him, his choosing is a mystery for even you goblin nuns are true brides of his. Though since he claimed you, rather than plain ugly goblin maids, you could be said to be ugly-cute, though some love might be required to see it.
Along with these two lots of goblin obsessives, those drunk on tales of romance and those entwined in romance of the other kind, he of course sent many of you regular humdrum goblins.
1/?
Goblin King of Goblin Kings!
Monarch of Idle Torments, Lord of Thieves. He of fair skin tinted with the shade of the flower's stem! His red crystal crown rested lightly on his brow, his black roguishly royal raiment was filched from the skin and silk of beings still living.
What mighty being did not curse this fiend? How vexing was this apex of pests. He had not the power to slaughter the transcendent, but none wished to endure his foul pranks and thefts, for long had been the day that he had last fallen into dire straits.
Had they been able to reach it, a carnival of gods, archdragons, beyonders and assorted supremes would have assaulted his castle.
No, for this, the greatest of goblinkind, the only true enemy is boredom! Bane of all those who live countless years.
This is where you come in, for you are not the Goblin King of Goblin Kings, not even a regular goblin king, nor even goblin nobles.
Wretched humanoids of shades of green, yellow and red with a mismatch of verminous bodyparts, frequently bald wether they be male or female. Your eyes often do not match size, the placement is off,and all of you have ragged pointed ears only beaten in pointed size by your ludicrous noses, for all goblins offer up their all to their monarch, losing what little beauty, power and wits they might have had, but so too is their mortality offered up, for so long as the King breathes, any goblin that dies will merely reappear above his head, none the worse for wear, and all memories of woe will fade, and reckless suicidal frolicking begins anew.
The Goblin King of Kings has struck upon a genius method to stave off his boredom, that the process can result in the ascendance of goblin nobles is a welcome bonus. He has taken to tossing groups of you throughout the realm of Absurdia and beyond, even to the pits of Heck!
He casually gives you goblins a quest and out of love and fear for your monarch you muck about, occasionally even accomplishing these deeds.
Most recently he's been keeping a hand on his normally fickle mood, for a group of you he has sent into a situation most curious.
He has sent goblin knights with their hobbyhorses and goblin nuns of the Prince of Grooms, so called not due to his occasional aid of beleaguered husbands to be, but due to his constant collection of brides that become wives when they die, but though many wish for him, his choosing is a mystery for even you goblin nuns are true brides of his. Though since he claimed you, rather than plain ugly goblin maids, you could be said to be ugly-cute, though some love might be required to see it.
Along with these two lots of goblin obsessives, those drunk on tales of romance and those entwined in romance of the other kind, he of course sent many of you regular humdrum goblins.
1/?
