i am a fan like a steady march towards madness while fighting against overwhelming evil for the greater good
Stekkmen
Member
Head shotted.
STATUS: Taking a pretty permanent hiatus. Thanks for all the stories! 5 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 977 (0.25 / day)
- VMs: 1
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Username history
- Stekkmen 11 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
5 yrs ago
Current
Taking a pretty permanent hiatus. Thanks for all the stories!
1
like
5 yrs ago
Feelin' pretty fine, feelin' pretty sharp.
5 yrs ago
Blizzard Entertainment supports the tyrannical government of China. Blizzard Entertainment ends the careers of those who dare dissent against their chinese overlords. And they're not the only ones...
8
likes
5 yrs ago
Got to get back into the swing of the things
1
like
5 yrs ago
In other news, Republicans in Oregon have laid siege to the state capital, shutting down the democratic process. They have the support of right-wing militia groups who have shot at police before.
1
like
Bio
I've been on and off this website for six years now. Right now I've only barely got time for one RP, and even then I mess that up. Trying to be more consistent and online more often, because I really do enjoy online roleplaying. Hopefully, one day I'll be able to write as much as I used too. Until then, I shall brood gloomily in the shadows.
Life goes on! Hobbies change and so do schedules. I hate ghosts, so I'm trying to put myself to rest as best I can with a status and bio officially marking my departure. If I'm going to do any writing, it's going to be working on that book I always wanted to finish.
Most Recent Posts
A solitary piece of firewood stood upright on the stump of a tree. With a mighty swing, Bok cut it down the middle, the two asymmetrical halves rapidly cleaved away from each other. Bok felt the axe go an inch into the much more solid stump, and he yanked it free with a grunt.
"Yep. That's a fine choppin' axe right there," He said aloud, examining the fire-axe in his hand. It would make a fine weapon, but it's place was here in the village, buried in the stumps of trees rather than the skulls of outsiders. A wooden handle and a sharp iron plate on the end, scratched, dinged and bented, but not rusted, for goblins take care of their weapons. Satisfied, he plunged the tool back into the stump with a thunk, picked up the two halves and threw them onto the small pile of firewood he had gathered ontop of a piece of cloth.
He dragged the cloth back into the main foresting area and stored the wood in a clearing where several other piles of wood lay. Others would come and gather it up for fire and fuel later. Bok spotted a pile of wood next to his and noticed it had more. Since nobody was looking, he casually picked up two pieces and chucked them onto his own stack, just to even the score a little bit. That seemed a bit more fair.
His signature club leaned up against a fallen tree in the forest, where he had hidden it while he worked so noone could steal her. She was his Basher. "Bashah, didn't mean to keep you waitin'," He cooed.
A wooden club was noble enough, of course. Narrow at the bottom, most clubs grew larger at the top for more weight, for more bone-breaking power. Basher, however, was special. The thickest part of the weapon that was farthest away from where Bok held it, a piece of bronze was welded and nailed to the lumber. A cylinder of bronze. It didn't go all the way around the top, Bok could see the very tip of Basher protruding from the bronze covering.
He swung her at the open air, imagining some human's knees shattering. "Beautiful," He said, grinning.
Hefting Basher over his shoulder, he began patrolling around the large village, glaring suspiciously into the dark forest for outsiders, foreigners and aliens lest they wish to steal or plunder.
"Yep. That's a fine choppin' axe right there," He said aloud, examining the fire-axe in his hand. It would make a fine weapon, but it's place was here in the village, buried in the stumps of trees rather than the skulls of outsiders. A wooden handle and a sharp iron plate on the end, scratched, dinged and bented, but not rusted, for goblins take care of their weapons. Satisfied, he plunged the tool back into the stump with a thunk, picked up the two halves and threw them onto the small pile of firewood he had gathered ontop of a piece of cloth.
He dragged the cloth back into the main foresting area and stored the wood in a clearing where several other piles of wood lay. Others would come and gather it up for fire and fuel later. Bok spotted a pile of wood next to his and noticed it had more. Since nobody was looking, he casually picked up two pieces and chucked them onto his own stack, just to even the score a little bit. That seemed a bit more fair.
His signature club leaned up against a fallen tree in the forest, where he had hidden it while he worked so noone could steal her. She was his Basher. "Bashah, didn't mean to keep you waitin'," He cooed.
A wooden club was noble enough, of course. Narrow at the bottom, most clubs grew larger at the top for more weight, for more bone-breaking power. Basher, however, was special. The thickest part of the weapon that was farthest away from where Bok held it, a piece of bronze was welded and nailed to the lumber. A cylinder of bronze. It didn't go all the way around the top, Bok could see the very tip of Basher protruding from the bronze covering.
He swung her at the open air, imagining some human's knees shattering. "Beautiful," He said, grinning.
Hefting Basher over his shoulder, he began patrolling around the large village, glaring suspiciously into the dark forest for outsiders, foreigners and aliens lest they wish to steal or plunder.
shit goblin
sounds fun. i'm ready to do God's work as a crusader
sounds good
@Aristocles cause if there's like a hero-goblin or special landmark it'd be named after them like most places in real life.
I mean, where are the goblins? What do they do? Is there any landmark that they claim? Or a significant person in their history?
Name: Bok
Role: Warrior
Race: Goblin
Description: Bok stands at a solid 2 feet 10 inches tall, with thin, ropey muscles, sharp teeth and a hard stare. At 5 years of age he is the prime of his youth to be a warrior for his great tribe. Dark green skin is tightly pulled around his skull and bones, he is gaunt, ugly, and mean, and bald. Always reaching to prove his skills to himself and his comrade, he hopes one day to become chief like most warriors, and is not above using trickery and mischief to elevate himself; luckily for everyone he hasn't had much a chance to get away with anything nerfarious yet.
As for armaments and armor, Bok usually wears has animal-hide leggings, and shows off his bare-chest which has accumulated a few scars to make himself look tougher. He has a wooden club with bronze wrapped around the end, for crushing and bludgeoning his foes kneecaps and arms.
Role: Warrior
Race: Goblin
Description: Bok stands at a solid 2 feet 10 inches tall, with thin, ropey muscles, sharp teeth and a hard stare. At 5 years of age he is the prime of his youth to be a warrior for his great tribe. Dark green skin is tightly pulled around his skull and bones, he is gaunt, ugly, and mean, and bald. Always reaching to prove his skills to himself and his comrade, he hopes one day to become chief like most warriors, and is not above using trickery and mischief to elevate himself; luckily for everyone he hasn't had much a chance to get away with anything nerfarious yet.
As for armaments and armor, Bok usually wears has animal-hide leggings, and shows off his bare-chest which has accumulated a few scars to make himself look tougher. He has a wooden club with bronze wrapped around the end, for crushing and bludgeoning his foes kneecaps and arms.
@Aristocles Okay, no problem. I'll make him a little younger, then. Like, 10? 8? What's the "21" of goblins?
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