Down, Down to Goblin Town [Day 5, Midafternoon, Open]

[Ikkit the Bastard]

To say his fellow goblins had surprised him the day before was only a mild stretch, but it had also given Ikkit... an idea. A focus for some effort, so to speak.

And thus, after bolting a quick breakfast in his kip, Ikkit the Bastard strode into the Hive Ward and made a beeline for what might charitably have been called his old neighborhood, looking to see who he could drum up.



[Hive Ward roll- Ninety-frickin' nine.]

[Flession]

In the sprawling, labyrinthine alleys of the Hive Ward, a spectacle was unfolding, just as you make your way thru to meet some of your fellow goblins—a meeting of Xaosists so vast that it seemed to encompass every corner of the chaotic district. Like ants drawn to spilled sugar, they converged, their mismatched clothing and wild symbols creating a kaleidoscope of eccentricity. Banners fluttered in the breeze, each bearing cryptic messages that defied understanding.

But this gathering, as outrageous as it was, was about to encounter another, no less frenzied, Xaosist congregation. From an intersecting alley, a cacophony of riotous cries and raucous laughter echoed, growing louder and more fevered with each passing moment. Another group of Xaosists, bedecked in their own motley attire, charged into the scene, their fervor unmatched. The collision of these two chaotic forces was immediate and explosive. At first, the rioters seemed almost puzzled by the sudden appearance of their counterparts, as if the absurdity of the situation momentarily caught them off guard. But that confusion quickly gave way to a volatile mixture of excitement and aggression.

Chants that once harmonized into a peculiar symphony of disorder now clashed, overlapping into a cacophonous clash of nonsensical phrases. Banners collided as rioters from both groups thrust their symbols forward, creating a chaotic ballet of flapping fabric. It took only a few moments for the initial confusion to give way to an eruption of fists and flying limbs. The air was filled with the frenetic sounds of combat—grunts, shouts, and the unmistakable thud of blows connecting. Rioters grappled with one another, tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs, only to rise again and rejoin the fray with even greater zeal.

Amid the chaos, a Xaosist in a jester hat stood on a makeshift stage, juggling fireballs and cackling manically as he hurled the fiery orbs into the midst of the brawl. Each explosion of flame sent rioters scattering in all directions, only for them to return to the fray moments later, undeterred by the chaos. As the clash continued, the boundaries between the two groups blurred, and it became increasingly difficult to distinguish friend from foe. Rioters who had moments before been hurling insults at one another now found themselves united in a chaotic melee, swinging fists and improvised weapons at anyone within reach.

Meanwhile, for you, they seem to be in the way blocking your path. Which would be like those chaotic berks, of course. Still, would you let them block your path while they were busy kicking their own teeth in?

[Ikkit the Bastard]

Ordinarily, Ikkit would have simply grabbed a nice vantage point, maybe found a nice bug or rat to snack on as he enjoyed the show, watching the barmy berks shred themselves.

But he had business to be about.

He'd never been good with crowds, and sweet-talk wasn't his strong suit.

Far, far too many of them to kill his way through.

But since the cretins were already indulging in pure destructive mayhem, he opted for a lesser-used plan of attack.

Ikkit was a lousy spellcaster at the best of times, but it was worth a shot...

He fished a small white feather out of his pockets, and started chanting.

[Ikkit is using a 3rd-level spell slot to cast Fear to try to get them out of his way.]

[Flession]

One of the sets of riots is clearly effected of this and starts to rush off. The other, however, seems to resist the urge to flee from you, but rather than go deal with you, they go after the cowards running away.

Either way, the path was pretty much clear and mostly peaceful. Just ignore the knocked out bodies on the ground, the fire caused by the several alchemist fires being thrown, the smell from the Chaosmen unable to bathe...

~~
Fear of Gobbos: 2#1d20+3 17 9

[Ikkit the Bastard]

Much better.

Ikkit stepped through the detritus- taking things off of bodies, unconscious or dead, was explicitly not covered by his license, so he didn't search any of the prone forms on the ground- and resumed his search for his fellow goblins.

Fucking Chaosmen. No order, no pattern, no point.

[Flession]

As you navigate through the labyrinthine alleyways and narrow passages, a sense of camaraderie and vitality emanates from every corner. The architecture of where the goblins live in the Hive is a charming amalgamation of ingenuity and resourcefulness. Ramshackle huts made from scavenged materials lean against one another, forming a mosaic of colors and textures. Tattered banners and mismatched ornaments flutter in the wind, lending the district a sense of whimsy. Rusty cogs and gears, relics of the goblin fascination with tinkering, adorn doorways and windows, giving the impression of a perpetual work in progress.

The aroma of sizzling street food wafts through the air, drawing one's attention to bustling market stalls. Goblins peddle an array of goods, from trinkets made from discarded scraps to ingenious contraptions that promise to revolutionize everyday life. Pungent spices mingle with the scent of herbs, creating an olfactory symphony that tickles the senses.

It was home.

[Ikkit the Bastard]

It was home.

Ikkit took a deep breath, and relaxed, smiling slightly.

No hideous giants, no weird smelling elf food, and all around him, the melodious sound of his native language, and the wholesome, appealing shapes of his people.

Ikkit the Bastard had always just been Ikkit here, and while you couldn't ever fully let your guard down, there was something soothing about the knowledge that being stepped on by some freakishly tall idiot was highly unlikely.

He started looking around, to see if he recognized anyone from the previous day's work.

[Flession]

They're not hard to find, actually. Quite a bit of those wandering around answered your call to help you out, and now they're back to their normal lives, with a little bit more jink in their pockets for the work and a small sense of gratitude from the Guvners that would likely be forgotten within a week or so.

Still, it's a few good meals with something other than rat meat. Not that there's anything wrong with rat meat.

[Ikkit the Bastard]

As he made the rounds, Ikkit made his pitch.

Mostly variations on the same theme.

"That lucre thou hast obtained, and the momentary respect of the tall folk is but a sample, the merest taste of what might be possible shouldst we band together. Those whose profit comes from the leavings of the rest the City knows of which I speak. A fine living may be made, as our fair streets already make plain- think, then, of the advantages to be had shouldst we obtain coin from others for the privilege of access to their leavings. They would call it service, but service is remunerated. At present, we possess the goodwill of the Fraternity of Order, and their goodwill grants us a chance. Who wouldst join with me in helping to shape the charter of a new Guild? For verily, though all willing to work would be welcome, we, who have first ventured to undertake the task, shouldst possess greater influence, should we not?"

And less generally, he looked up old friends.

"Most redoubtable Tup! Long have I know the strength of thy arm, e'er since we didst contend for that fine fat cranium rat, when thou dist smite fully twelve teeth from my head with a single blow! Wouldst thou lend thy strength to a common cause, a shared endeavor?"

"Fair Smink! While thy beauty dazzles the eye, 'tis thy skill with fabrication which brings me hither. What sayest thou to the opportunity to design mechanisms to assist in salvage labor? I freely conrfess, thou I am an adept salvager, and a capable hand at fashioning traps, my skill with mechanisms pales before thine. Thou knowest well the vagaries of Sigil's streets, and how we might best convey material in quantity..."

And so forth. Guilds needed members, and his people had proven their aptitude and willingness to perform the work without no expectation from anyone else. Enlisting a few in the interest of actual steady pay was a natural enough offer to make.

[Flession]

The goblins consider much of what you said and most of them sort of look at you. Those berks won't give us the time of day! How long will that good will last, huh?! One shouts. Another one as well. "We got your back, Ikkit!"

A bit of a conflicting start, to be sure, but some seem to be interested. Beyond the usual suspects of your close friends, may require a bit more of a sale...

((Roll me persuasion))