The #Broken_Dagger Forum

The zeppelin was, more or less, parked in the forest clearing, surrounded fairly neatly by nothing other than trees. It had been a wonderful landing job; while Smash and Stomp had been fearing for their lives, Stone expressionlessly tilted the ship at dangerous angles, and eventually even got the damned thing on the ground. That had been a couple of days ago.

At the moment, four of the five goblin crew were meeting on the deck, outside. There was Smash, the largest of the goblins, standing just under four feet tall; he was bulky, for a goblin, and never went very far without his trusty axe and hammer - both of which looked kind of humorous considering their size to that of their user. The math just didn't add up.

There was Stomp, slightly shorter and considerably less bulky than Smash. Stomp and Stone were the moneymakers of the group, each in their respective way -- Stomp's happened to be the ability to play almost any instrument on the planet. For some reason, people had some kind of instinctual urge or some such to watch small, green ugly things produce beautiful noises.

Stone was pilot of the makeshift vessel, and no one really ever saw the Goblin's eyes. One rarely ever heard him speak, to boot. Nobody, period, saw his expression -- which is why they called him what they do. His means of making money fit nicely with his name; gambling. Cards, specifically. Whether or not his play was 'fair' was still up to scrutiny.

...and Shout, the smallest of the bunch. He had eye-wear, as well -- goggles. And for good reason. Shout was an alchemist, and he liked to make things explode. Go boom, make pretty colors, etc. He certainly lived up to his name in making things combust, as well. Or, anything else for that matter.

The fifth, Slay, was tucked neatly under the deck, carefully locked up. Slay was...well, absolutely psychotic. Blood thirsty. Definitely the leap-from-the-shadows-slit-your-throat kind of guy, without any pause to chat or contemplate the meaning of his action. He had escaped once, and proceeded to kill about sixteen people before the guards overwhelmed him and threw him in jail, with guaranteed execution -- that is, until Shout blew up the jail.

Luckily, they were far, far away from that place.

The reason for the meeting was quite simple; they needed supplies, and the four had gone out separately to seek them. At the moment, they were discussing their progress.

"I found a few general stores. They seem adequate," Stone said, flatly.

"Yeah? Good. I found a couple m'self. Let's hope their not the same ones," replied Smash.

"I didn't find nothing 'cept some bad man tryin' to kill me!" whined Shout.

"Yeah, yeh probably deserved it," quipped Smash.

"NO no! I didn't do anything! I mixed the green and the blue, and then he attacked me!"

"Huh. Well, point 'em out to me next time. I'll break his legs fer you."

"Yaaaay!"

"How about you, Stomp?"

"I didn't find any stores, but I did make about four hundred shilling."

"Four hundred?!"

"Yeah, these people are morbidly attracted to music. I could make a thousand, easy, before the end of the week."

"I'll be damned. Stick to that, then. Maybe we won't even have to take buying supplies out of our pockets..."

And so they continued talking on related matters, with their high-pitched and occasionally squeaky voices, and overly large facial features, although those don't have much to do with the actual talking. It's just funny to think of, and more so to look at.

(OOC: This post refers to a character introduced here: http://www.brokendagger.com/BB/showthread.php?t=688 )

Harry had been walking, almost nonstop, for a good solid week, now. He was getting used to it; the hunting, the searching, the cooking...he'd be knowledgeable about these things beforehand, but never was he so immersed -- never was it the key to his survival.

It was hardening him, even only after a week. He rarely found time to sit and think, as sitting and thinking often led to misery and crying. So Harry opted not to do that often. Not if he could help it.

He'd been walking through the forest for the past day and a half. The cloud loomed not more than a mile away, perhaps, but the area he traveled still received morning light. The forest offered a good trek; it was nice looking, everything smelled good, the forest creatures weren't all that smart...things were good.

But they got most infinitely more interesting when Harry stepped into a clearing and discovered a most wonderful contraption in front of him. He'd never seen anything like it; a large, what appeared to be a spiked balloon floating in the air, and then a deck -- like a ship's! With propellers, and...

Harry scouted the area out, looking for the owners, perhaps, if there were any. It was awfully quiet in the clearing, and he couldn't imagine anybody just leaving it here unprotected.

Unless there wasn't anybody left to leave it unprotected.

Curiosity got the best of Harry, and he started to explore the zeppelin.

Stomp returned to the zeppelin, pleased to see that it was still there. Obviously, it was a good relief that no one had found it and subsequently run off with it -- although, it gave a pretty good feeling of safety to know that anybody who attempted to steal the ship would have to go through Slay, and would hence then be slain.

Which was, evidentally, what had happened. Stone checked the balloon, he checked the deck, and when he went downstairs in the dark, the stench of death was obvious and apparent. His eyes adjusted quickly to the lightless underdeck, goblins quite used to dwelling in caves and the like. The place was a bloody mess.

It would seem, from the half-skinned skull dangling from the ceiling, that a boy must've found his way onto the ship. Unfortunately, the mostly eaten intestines draped all over the floor were a nice clue as to the boy's fate. Never mind the dangling head.

Stomp said nothing, but started collecting the mutilated body parts and hauling them above deck. Apparently Slay wouldn't need to be fed after all.

He came across a pack with lettering on the back, quite different from Common. Stone recognized it immediately, though, as a dialect orcs spoke some good distance east. That was rather curious; what the boy was doing this far, and looking rather not orcish (from what parts were left).

It said 'Harry', and there was what probably was a clan symbol underneath that Stomp didn't recognize, and the pack was thrown out with the rest of the severed parts.

"Slay, do us the courtesy of finishing your meal."

Stomp left without cleaning the rest; he found cleaning blood puddles and bite-sized pieces of flesh scattered about to be quite the tedious chore, and Slay would probably clean it up eventually anyway.

"Damn! The sun's out! Damn damn!"

"We obviously can't go on with our plans, then..."

"No. Dammit. These people are complete idiots, too. We could've made off with a one hell of a fortune..."

"Oh, well. At least we can leave."

"True enough. Find Stone, tell 'em to start the zeppelin up."

Stomp nodded, and started off towards the forest clearing where their vessel was, knowing full-well Stone would have already started, quite aware of everything they were. Hopefully, Stone would already have Shout, or they'd have to go searching for him again...AGAIN.

Smash would soon follow him.