Goblins
Goblins are destructive, chaotic creatures who tend toward cruel pranks and seem to bring destruction wherever they go. As a result, they are despised by most. They are generally weak and cowardly, which frequently leads to being enslaved or controlled by stronger creatures - typically orcs. Given that there aren’t many who truly care about their wellbeing, goblins are forced to rely on themselves for survival. They are cunning and clever, and the moment they see a situation that they can turn to their favor, they will try to take full advantage, despite their obvious inability to plan very far into the future or think strategically.
Sub-Race Information
General Racial Information
Age
Appearance (can vary based on tribal affiliation)
Demeanor
Society
Favored Profession
Restrictions
Lore
Goblins once populated the dry lands of Hyrkania and the caverns below, living in roaming tribes as well as within orcish clans that warred and raided within the Hyrkanian wastes. Goblin society is violent and tribal in nature, relenting only to those strong enough to keep them under thumb. They are vast in number even though they are partial to infighting; tribes splitting in two to try and gain power over the others. Goblin lives are often lost to orcish hordes rolling the small goblin tribes into their own hordes in the wars against the elves and the dwarves. This has been the cycle for the majority of goblinoid history. A horde will rise and sweep them up in it before falling and leaving the surviving goblins scattered and without leaders once more. Their tribal nature overtakes them and they roam in groups for a time before another horde rises and the cycle repeats.
The Great Horde
Things strayed from the cycle only a handful of times, notably; When an orcish warchief came to power and began striking the coastal settlements of the sea elves. The sea elves asked their western cousins for help and they responded with a show of force that beat the horde back and even managed to gain new ground. The elves tried to 'civilize' them, Ooc and goblins alike. Such an imposition gave the orcs what they needed to truly come together. A binding cause to fight against their enemy birthed the greatest horde Hyboria has ever seen. Rolling over the Hyrkanian wastes and stretching beyond the Turan lands, the Great Horde decimated all that opposed and tried to stand in its way. With all its might and fury, they pushed the elves back into the west before once more disbanding, scattering the goblin once more, to lead their insignificant raids and ambushes.
The Fall of Stone Keep
Dwarves, well known natural enemies of all goblins, seem to go out of their way to target and try to crush all goblins. Goblins, in as much as their chaotic brains can, return this hatred and animosity. Goblins revel in the spilling of dwarven blood, although their inability to facilitate such a thing often meant that their only exposure to such a treat was to happen upon an already injured dwarf and finish him off there. The realization that they were probably doing a service to the dwarf was lost on them as they delighted in seeing the life leave the eyes of their enemy.
The dwarves regularly fight the orcs and goblins at every turn from their impregnable fortified mountainous keeps, but rarely did they think of any of the clearly inferior creatures as a true threat.
An elven messenger from the west, came to Stone Keep with a warning from the front lines. The dwarven empire did not heed the warning given by the elves and refused to believe the orcs were amassing a strike force comprised of goblins, half-orcs and orcs to strike the dwarves at their heart. They ignored the reports that orcs were utilizing the powerful but volatile goblin explosives and their immense number in a plan to blast their way through their fortifications and sack the walled city of Stone Keep. The dwarves dismissed this warning readily and even laughed at the notion, hosting a week long feast. As the feast drew to its close, most were left drunk, lazy and fat. It was on the last day, as the final light of day tucked itself away for the night that the strike force attacked. Beneath the eastern wall they dug out holes, filling them with dragon powder and brimstone and any other volatile alchemicals they could find. They set the charges and led them to a single point to detonate. A fuse that could have been doused had the guards atop the fortress walls not been been drunk and aslumber. The goblins squealed with delight as they lit the fuse and watched as the flickering light made its way to its destination. The only thing louder than the goblins was the deafening explosion as the fuse burned to its last and blew away the eastern wall, rendering the dwarven defenses useless. The orcs wasted no time in piling through the breach and within minutes the Keep was swarming with well trained, blood thirsty members of the strike force. The dwarves were defeated before they even knew they had been attacked. Their city destroyed, their temples and shrines desecrated, and blood running in rivulets through the streets.
Goblin Riches, Soiled Britches
Goblins are destructive, chaotic creatures who tend toward cruel pranks and seem to bring destruction wherever they go. As a result, they are despised by most, even each other. Harboring animosity and jealousy to each other, especially to those of other tribes. The abandoned force of goblins that were used in the siege of Stone Keep were left to pick the bones, which they happily did as one force until they saw the wealth that the orcs had left behind. The shine of gold and the gleam of gemstones shattered the bonds and shaky alliance the many tribes held in order to undertake the task of blasting open the great dwarven capital. Savaging each other for even just a handful of treasure, the goblins turned and created their own bloodbath atop of the one that had settled beneath. For two days they fought, whittling their numbers bit by bit until only the strongest of three clans remained:
The Stinking Crags Tribe, a group of many smaller tribes that made their home in and around an active pocket of brimstone and sulphur, they paint their skin with it which results in boils and lesions and a dry, cracked exterior. They have a yellowish tinge to the green of their skins and their teeth are typically sharpened with stones. The goblins of the Stinking Crags Tribe are some of the most disgusting and violent, using all kinds of horrid methods of demoralization, like the cutting of ears and forcing their once owner to eat them. Or the peeling of toenails and the partial embalming of hands shattered with a hammer in a mixture of salt and sulphur.
The Fishcats Tribe, hailing from the western coasts of the Vilayet Sea. They are generally weak and cowardly but have cunning and guile rivaled by none. Their leader, Fisheyed Gherk, achieved his station by tricking the leaders of the tribe to sail out into the sea to find treasure. Gherk had bored holes in the small-boat the night before and covered it with a substance that would dissolve once submerged in water. He gathered the clan to the shoreline and watched as his cousins sank. His eyes tended to bulge when he laughed. He sends those that opposed him to die which, in turn, led to him becoming leader and dubbed ‘fisheyed’ for his hideous expression of delight at that fact.
The Maggle Tribe, an odd tribe, matriarchal in society which is rare but not unheard of. Their leader wears a long flowing headdress of ostrich feathers. Proclaiming herself ‘queen’, she longs for the wealth and riches that royals are so often depicted of holding. Across the sea, she sees the wealth and glitter of Turan, with their blacks and golds. She wishes one day to sail over the waters and steal their wealth for her own, no matter the cost. Her tribe follows her only because she threatens to unleash a Nilbog and curse them all to die and be cursed to haunt the earth as wandering spirits. Her shamans are powerful and this is what earned The Maggle tribe a place amongst the great horde.
These three tribes remain, and only the strongest of them, although there are straggling goblins with no affiliation who choose to remain out of sight and beyond the eye of the three tribes. Their tattered banners hardly standing in the sea of red blood and green skins. The three leaders come together now and again to try to convince each other to give up and join the other. The Stinking Crags’ threatens with violence and butchery. The Fishcats’ use their words and make promises they cannot keep and The Maggle’s appeal to the greedy nature of most goblins and try to convince them to sail to Turan, with the idea that there are more riches there than they can ever hope to take. Neither of the three have a strong argument and neither of the three will back down. A stalemate over the dwarven treasure drove a wedge between the three tribes that has borne a long-standing, never-ending war between the three tribes. The last large squirmish found the remaining members of the Stinking Crags’ tribe attacking the Fishcats’ tribe and the Maggle’s trying to run, leaving only the Shamans and their ‘queen’ behind. In a last ditch effort Maggle unleashed the Nilbog she had sealed away in some desecrated manner. The angered spirit did not take kindly to its captors and so it went about being an agent of mischief. Turning the gold to silver, then to copper, then to stone before taking the body of Maggle as a vessel. Dancing about the dwindling battle until it was slain, flying into another body to occupy over and over until none remained but the Nilbog, dancing happily atop a pile of bodies and petrified treasure.
The goblins who find themselves in the Exiled Lands usually try to hide their affiliation, unless their appearance makes that impossible. They stay out of sight, preferring to remain in the shadows, stealing what goods they can, raiding farms in the dead of night, and never really remaining in one place for too long. They may hire themselves out to half-orcs, or be forced into service by them, but they distrust everyone and everything around them.