+: A dirty mop head on long, stilt-like legs. Solitary wanderers. They love magic, but have no natural aptitude for it, and so covet magical items like wands, staves, and orbs. A typical groll is a walking arsenal of runes and wands.
+: 
diff --git a/src/bestiary/hemogoblin.md b/src/bestiary/hemogoblin.md
index 37770c4..d663ca0 100644
--- a/src/bestiary/hemogoblin.md
+++ b/src/bestiary/hemogoblin.md
@@ -1,12 +1,12 @@
---
title: hemogoblin
created: Sat, 22 Oct 2022 15:10:54 -0600
-updated: Sat, 22 Oct 2022 15:10:54 -0600
+updated: Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:40:02 -0600
public: yes
---
Hemogoblin
-: A little bloody goblinoid, flayed of its flesh and getting blood absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god, don't let it touch that! Ew.
+: A fluffy little goblinoid, dripping blood absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god, don't let it touch that! Ew.
: Dispite everything, disgustingly cute.
: Sole manufacturers of an extremely high quality synthetic blood, and thus pretty much single-handedly support the "vegetarian" vampire community.
: 
diff --git a/src/epistolary/00026.md b/src/epistolary/00026.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7f35206
--- /dev/null
+++ b/src/epistolary/00026.md
@@ -0,0 +1,36 @@
+---
+title: 00026
+created: Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22 -0600
+updated: Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22 -0600
+public: yes
+syndicated: yes
+---
+### 00026 {#00026}
+
+> Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly on the sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between Inky's tugging and Jarrod's strong, steady hand, they manage to hoist the wizard to his feet.
+>
+> With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod to Jarrod, Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The duck, having emptied the plate of corn chips in record time, follows them shortly after.
+>
+> The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside from the occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage seemingly having fallen asleep as soon as he landed on the cot in the loft. Inky retreats downstairs after leaving a jug of water, a mug and a small packet of kuding leaves beside the bed.
+>
+> Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a dark corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.
+
+~
+
+> " ... and then the Orc Maiden said: 'That's not my club!'"
+>
+> The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar and puts a bag of coin down. "Serve drinks until this runs out!" Leaning over the bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a whisper: "I owe a favour to Lucy's Basement for the trouble. Call it in when needed."
+>
+> Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From his pack, Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the wound.
+>
+> As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all kinds of hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is currently applying, drawing a curse from the hobbit. "Shut it! Let's be clear. You've hired us for a dangerous set of jobs, with the understanding that we're dangerous people. There may be 'accidents' on occasion. You've learned something today, and what's more, you lived to absorb your new wisdom."
+>
+> Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. "We will finish what we have started. We're probably the team with the best chances, I'm sure you'll agree. Are you going to back the winning play here? Either way, your decision won't change our plans. I'm sure you know how to take the win."
+>
+> Jarrod pats the hobbit's good shoulder in a friendly, but dismissive, way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading small quips with his new (and now very drunk) tavern friends.
+
+
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00015.html)
diff --git a/www/groll.png b/www/groll.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..78631ae
Binary files /dev/null and b/www/groll.png differ
diff --git a/www/hemogoblin.png b/www/hemogoblin.png
index 3e54fc2..d2640e3 100644
Binary files a/www/hemogoblin.png and b/www/hemogoblin.png differ
diff --git a/www/index.html b/www/index.html
index ec70f3d..b5b8a6d 100644
--- a/www/index.html
+++ b/www/index.html
@@ -243,6 +243,7 @@ of the Were-Hare
Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly on the
+sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between Inky’s tugging and
+Jarrod’s strong, steady hand, they manage to hoist the wizard to his
+feet.
+
With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod to Jarrod,
+Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The duck, having emptied the
+plate of corn chips in record time, follows them shortly after.
+
The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside from the
+occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage seemingly having fallen
+asleep as soon as he landed on the cot in the loft. Inky retreats
+downstairs after leaving a jug of water, a mug and a small packet of
+kuding leaves beside the bed.
+
Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a dark
+corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.
+
+
~
+
+
” … and then the Orc Maiden said: ‘That’s not my club!’”
+
The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar and puts a
+bag of coin down. “Serve drinks until this runs out!” Leaning over the
+bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a whisper: “I owe a favour to
+Lucy’s Basement for the trouble. Call it in when needed.”
+
Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From his pack,
+Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the wound.
+
As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all kinds of
+hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is currently applying,
+drawing a curse from the hobbit. “Shut it! Let’s be clear. You’ve hired
+us for a dangerous set of jobs, with the understanding that we’re
+dangerous people. There may be ‘accidents’ on occasion. You’ve learned
+something today, and what’s more, you lived to absorb your new
+wisdom.”
+
Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. “We will finish what we
+have started. We’re probably the team with the best chances, I’m sure
+you’ll agree. Are you going to back the winning play here? Either way,
+your decision won’t change our plans. I’m sure you know how to take the
+win.”
+
Jarrod pats the hobbit’s good shoulder in a friendly, but dismissive,
+way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading small quips with his
+new (and now very drunk) tavern friends.
Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria
@@ -2755,10 +2801,28 @@ politics.
+
Groll
+
+A dirty mop head on long, stilt-like legs. Solitary wanderers. They love
+magic, but have no natural aptitude for it, and so covet magical items
+like wands, staves, and orbs. A typical groll is a walking arsenal of
+runes and wands.
+
+
+
+
+
+groll
+
+
+
+
+
+
Hemogoblin
-A little bloody goblinoid, flayed of its flesh and getting blood
-absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god, don’t let it touch that! Ew.
+A fluffy little goblinoid, dripping blood absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god,
+don’t let it touch that! Ew.
Why no, we don’t mind much about competition, certainly
- nothing wrong. Can’t imagine someone to put all of their eggs
- in one basket, especially when whatever it is they desire is
- so valuable.
-
That said, our benefactor must be pretty eager to get these
- crystals if he’s willing to send out team after team. I mean,
- we’re team 43, that’s a lot of people to pay and a lot of
- eagerness to find these crystals. Why is that? What benefit
- are these shiny rocks to them? What even is their purpose in
- retrieving them?
+
Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly
+ on the sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between
+ Inky’s tugging and Jarrod’s strong, steady hand, they manage
+ to hoist the wizard to his feet.
+
With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod
+ to Jarrod, Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The
+ duck, having emptied the plate of corn chips in record time,
+ follows them shortly after.
+
The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside
+ from the occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage
+ seemingly having fallen asleep as soon as he landed on the cot
+ in the loft. Inky retreats downstairs after leaving a jug of
+ water, a mug and a small packet of kuding leaves beside the
+ bed.
+
Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a
+ dark corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.
-
“Oh, no no no, child,” Blavin titters as he takes a sip of
- his ever-present martini. “You must understand, the Benefactor
- is a singularly dedicated collector, and has been for ages!
- There are—and have been!—many other retrieval teams, yes. But
- not all of them have been for the crystals. And some of them
- were formed, active, and disbanded long before you or I
- arrived on the scene.” He winks at you conspiratorially.
+
~
-
I would postulate, based upon the magical wards we had to
- bypass, the cadre of gaurds that needed to be dispatched, and
- the gigantic moth monster that rested beneath it, that these
- crystals aren’t meant to go anywhere.
-
Now I’m not trying to point fingers here, morality is many
- shades of gray, and it isn’t really my job to suss out what
- you’re doing. But I’m a curious sysorceor, and when I see a
- chance to learn I seize upon the moment. There’s something
- here you’re not telling us, and I for one and keen to know
- it.
+
” … and then the Orc Maiden said: ‘That’s not my
+ club!’”
+
The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar
+ and puts a bag of coin down. “Serve drinks until this runs
+ out!” Leaning over the bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a
+ whisper: “I owe a favour to Lucy’s Basement for the trouble.
+ Call it in when needed.”
+
Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From
+ his pack, Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the
+ wound.
+
As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all
+ kinds of hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is
+ currently applying, drawing a curse from the hobbit. “Shut it!
+ Let’s be clear. You’ve hired us for a dangerous set of jobs,
+ with the understanding that we’re dangerous people. There may
+ be ‘accidents’ on occasion. You’ve learned something today,
+ and what’s more, you lived to absorb your new wisdom.”
+
Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. “We will
+ finish what we have started. We’re probably the team with the
+ best chances, I’m sure you’ll agree. Are you going to back the
+ winning play here? Either way, your decision won’t change our
+ plans. I’m sure you know how to take the win.”
+
Jarrod pats the hobbit’s good shoulder in a friendly, but
+ dismissive, way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading
+ small quips with his new (and now very drunk) tavern
+ friends.
-
“I wouldn’t worry your wizened old brow about it,” Blavin
- chuckles, sloshing his drink. “The Benefactor’s concern is
- precisely the same as yours! These items are of enormous
- cultural and historical significance, to say nothing of their
- well of concentrated arcane energies. They’re dangerous just
- sitting out there in the world. Who knows who might come
- across one and use it for nefarious purposes.”
-
Yam’L’s eye widens and it seems to shudder at the mere
- suggestion of evil.
-
“Did you say this one was in the hands of a giant moth?”
- Blavin shudders with revulsion. “My word, man! Do you really
- think such an overgrown insect is an appropriate guardian for
- a beloved and dangerous cultural icon such as the Ginnarak
- Crystal? Surely not!”
-
“No,” he sits back with a satisfied smile, “I think we must
- all agree that they are safer in the public collection of a
- competent and benevolent curator. Then everybody can enjoy
- them safely!”
-
-
META: I’m gonna preface the sword speech with this to make
- it quicker to write
-
Y’aml
- I like what you’re putting down here, this guy is DEFINITELY
- evil. Nobody asks loads of people to steal things for them
- without being evil. I say we stab him, nice and good, right in
- the gut. Maybe 6 or 7 times. I’m positive nobody will mind.
- Evil people steal things, we saw that inky creature stealing
- things from that vault, definitely evil. (singsong) Evil evil
- evil, stab stab stab, make the evil go away with every little
- stab~
-
Corraidhin to Y’aml
- Dear sysadmins, once again, inky is not evil. They were
- borrowing something that had been cast on the ground,
- abandoned. Giving a tea set a good home is far from evil. But
- you might be onto something about this Blavin fellow, but we
- can’t just stab someone in a busy pub! Besides you’re a sword,
- and stabbing someone in a pub is the job of a dagger. So
- unless you can transform into the Dagger of Y’aml I think
- we’re out of luck here.
-
-
Yam’L gets a curious look in its eye at the suggestion.
- “CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!” it cries directly into your mind. It
- squeezes its eye shut and trembles with intense concentration.
- With great effort, the sword shrinks itself down to the size
- of a dagger, shunting its extra mass off into yamlspace.
-
“There!” it says breathlessly, opening its eye wearily.
- “Now, Hardy Bear. You promised..” it continues, its eye
- glinting with growing ferocity. “Let’s. STAB. THE HOBBIT!”
-
-
While the wizard pressed Blavin about the crystal’s
- secrets, Inky let their attention wander slightly around the
- table.
-
They had agreed that Master Corraidhín and Jarrod, being
- most wise and well-spoken, would question Blavin about the
- crystal before they set off on their next mission. The party
- had also befriended the duck unofficially dubbed their
- marketing manager after the fluffy little creature had trailed
- Inky all the way back to the Milk Market. Said creature now
- occupied a small office to one side of the building complete
- with a fountain, feathered up pillow and all the rummy worms
- it can eat. Inky had tried getting the duck to communicate
- with words by making them little croutons etched with letters,
- but the only ones they would gobble up were Q-U-A-C-K.
-
-
Your marketing manager moves into its office at the Milk
- Market and seems to really be enjoying itself. It joins you at
- Blavin’s table at Lucy’s Basement, cleaning its feathers and
- chortling merrily to itself.
-
You and your tablemates take turns feeding it croutons and
- bits of soft pretzel, and it seems very happy and content with
- that.
-
-
A familiar prickle, but passed quickly — Inky had gotten
- used to the glares directed at them by the sysorceor’s
- gleaming sword and resisted returning the stare with an
- eyeroll. Watching Stabby eyeing up their case manager over
- Master Corraidhín’s shoulder reminded Inky of a conversation
- they had overheard a few evenings ago between two pale coffin
- sleepers about a new product from the hemogoblins that was
- said to quench the thirst for longer than the leading brand.
- They might be able to find some at the town of Plasma, which
- sits by the Hartlands on the way to the shipwreck. It seems
- the milky blood pudding could do with some improvement.
-
-
You note on Blavin’s map that the Hemogoblin region is
- indeed on the way to the shipwreck. At least, it’s not that
- far out of the way. You reckon their synthetic blood product
- would indeed be a much better substitute for the real thing
- than the milk you’ve been feeding the thirsty sword thus
- far.
-
Or, at the very least, you’ll get a new variant of the
- blood pudding recipe you’ve been working on!
-
-
Maybe someone else’s mood will be improved in the meantime?
- Before setting out for their meeting with Blavin, Inky slipped
- into the kitchens downstairs and left the empanada chef a
- trick-and-treat. A plate of honeyed breadfruit and ghost
- pepper tapas sat on an icebox atop a new pair of Blueberry
- oven mittens with a pattern of tiny smiling green turtles.
- Tucked inside one mitten was a slip of paper (regrettably
- inedible) that simply read “BACK SOON :)”. A tapa recipe,
- which included a note on adapting the toppings for pan frying,
- was printed on the reverse in neat blocky letters and
- sandalwood ink.
-
-
Enrique wakes in the middle of the night to start baking
- the next day’s breads and empanadas. He frowns thoughtfully
- when he sees yet another mysterious gift from across the room.
- Again? What little elf must have taken up residence in his
- shop? But his face cracks into a smile when he sees the
- presentation and the oven mitts. And the smile becomes a
- bonafide grin when he tastes the fare and finds the
- recipe.
-
He taps his chin thoughtfully with one green claw as he
- skims the note and looks through his pantry. He chops some
- veggies and starts pan frying them.
-
Later, when the oven dings, he smiles to himself as he
- pulls on the new turtle pattern oven mitts and opens it.
Why no, we don’t mind much about competition, certainly
+ nothing wrong. Can’t imagine someone to put all of their eggs
+ in one basket, especially when whatever it is they desire is
+ so valuable.
+
That said, our benefactor must be pretty eager to get these
+ crystals if he’s willing to send out team after team. I mean,
+ we’re team 43, that’s a lot of people to pay and a lot of
+ eagerness to find these crystals. Why is that? What benefit
+ are these shiny rocks to them? What even is their purpose in
+ retrieving them?
+
+
“Oh, no no no, child,” Blavin titters as he takes a sip of
+ his ever-present martini. “You must understand, the Benefactor
+ is a singularly dedicated collector, and has been for ages!
+ There are—and have been!—many other retrieval teams, yes. But
+ not all of them have been for the crystals. And some of them
+ were formed, active, and disbanded long before you or I
+ arrived on the scene.” He winks at you conspiratorially.
+
+
I would postulate, based upon the magical wards we had to
+ bypass, the cadre of gaurds that needed to be dispatched, and
+ the gigantic moth monster that rested beneath it, that these
+ crystals aren’t meant to go anywhere.
+
Now I’m not trying to point fingers here, morality is many
+ shades of gray, and it isn’t really my job to suss out what
+ you’re doing. But I’m a curious sysorceor, and when I see a
+ chance to learn I seize upon the moment. There’s something
+ here you’re not telling us, and I for one and keen to know
+ it.
+
+
“I wouldn’t worry your wizened old brow about it,” Blavin
+ chuckles, sloshing his drink. “The Benefactor’s concern is
+ precisely the same as yours! These items are of enormous
+ cultural and historical significance, to say nothing of their
+ well of concentrated arcane energies. They’re dangerous just
+ sitting out there in the world. Who knows who might come
+ across one and use it for nefarious purposes.”
+
Yam’L’s eye widens and it seems to shudder at the mere
+ suggestion of evil.
+
“Did you say this one was in the hands of a giant moth?”
+ Blavin shudders with revulsion. “My word, man! Do you really
+ think such an overgrown insect is an appropriate guardian for
+ a beloved and dangerous cultural icon such as the Ginnarak
+ Crystal? Surely not!”
+
“No,” he sits back with a satisfied smile, “I think we must
+ all agree that they are safer in the public collection of a
+ competent and benevolent curator. Then everybody can enjoy
+ them safely!”
+
+
META: I’m gonna preface the sword speech with this to make
+ it quicker to write
+
Y’aml
+ I like what you’re putting down here, this guy is DEFINITELY
+ evil. Nobody asks loads of people to steal things for them
+ without being evil. I say we stab him, nice and good, right in
+ the gut. Maybe 6 or 7 times. I’m positive nobody will mind.
+ Evil people steal things, we saw that inky creature stealing
+ things from that vault, definitely evil. (singsong) Evil evil
+ evil, stab stab stab, make the evil go away with every little
+ stab~
+
Corraidhin to Y’aml
+ Dear sysadmins, once again, inky is not evil. They were
+ borrowing something that had been cast on the ground,
+ abandoned. Giving a tea set a good home is far from evil. But
+ you might be onto something about this Blavin fellow, but we
+ can’t just stab someone in a busy pub! Besides you’re a sword,
+ and stabbing someone in a pub is the job of a dagger. So
+ unless you can transform into the Dagger of Y’aml I think
+ we’re out of luck here.
+
+
Yam’L gets a curious look in its eye at the suggestion.
+ “CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!” it cries directly into your mind. It
+ squeezes its eye shut and trembles with intense concentration.
+ With great effort, the sword shrinks itself down to the size
+ of a dagger, shunting its extra mass off into yamlspace.
+
“There!” it says breathlessly, opening its eye wearily.
+ “Now, Hardy Bear. You promised..” it continues, its eye
+ glinting with growing ferocity. “Let’s. STAB. THE HOBBIT!”
+
+
While the wizard pressed Blavin about the crystal’s
+ secrets, Inky let their attention wander slightly around the
+ table.
+
They had agreed that Master Corraidhín and Jarrod, being
+ most wise and well-spoken, would question Blavin about the
+ crystal before they set off on their next mission. The party
+ had also befriended the duck unofficially dubbed their
+ marketing manager after the fluffy little creature had trailed
+ Inky all the way back to the Milk Market. Said creature now
+ occupied a small office to one side of the building complete
+ with a fountain, feathered up pillow and all the rummy worms
+ it can eat. Inky had tried getting the duck to communicate
+ with words by making them little croutons etched with letters,
+ but the only ones they would gobble up were Q-U-A-C-K.
+
+
Your marketing manager moves into its office at the Milk
+ Market and seems to really be enjoying itself. It joins you at
+ Blavin’s table at Lucy’s Basement, cleaning its feathers and
+ chortling merrily to itself.
+
You and your tablemates take turns feeding it croutons and
+ bits of soft pretzel, and it seems very happy and content with
+ that.
+
+
A familiar prickle, but passed quickly — Inky had gotten
+ used to the glares directed at them by the sysorceor’s
+ gleaming sword and resisted returning the stare with an
+ eyeroll. Watching Stabby eyeing up their case manager over
+ Master Corraidhín’s shoulder reminded Inky of a conversation
+ they had overheard a few evenings ago between two pale coffin
+ sleepers about a new product from the hemogoblins that was
+ said to quench the thirst for longer than the leading brand.
+ They might be able to find some at the town of Plasma, which
+ sits by the Hartlands on the way to the shipwreck. It seems
+ the milky blood pudding could do with some improvement.
+
+
You note on Blavin’s map that the Hemogoblin region is
+ indeed on the way to the shipwreck. At least, it’s not that
+ far out of the way. You reckon their synthetic blood product
+ would indeed be a much better substitute for the real thing
+ than the milk you’ve been feeding the thirsty sword thus
+ far.
+
Or, at the very least, you’ll get a new variant of the
+ blood pudding recipe you’ve been working on!
+
+
Maybe someone else’s mood will be improved in the meantime?
+ Before setting out for their meeting with Blavin, Inky slipped
+ into the kitchens downstairs and left the empanada chef a
+ trick-and-treat. A plate of honeyed breadfruit and ghost
+ pepper tapas sat on an icebox atop a new pair of Blueberry
+ oven mittens with a pattern of tiny smiling green turtles.
+ Tucked inside one mitten was a slip of paper (regrettably
+ inedible) that simply read “BACK SOON :)”. A tapa recipe,
+ which included a note on adapting the toppings for pan frying,
+ was printed on the reverse in neat blocky letters and
+ sandalwood ink.
+
+
Enrique wakes in the middle of the night to start baking
+ the next day’s breads and empanadas. He frowns thoughtfully
+ when he sees yet another mysterious gift from across the room.
+ Again? What little elf must have taken up residence in his
+ shop? But his face cracks into a smile when he sees the
+ presentation and the oven mitts. And the smile becomes a
+ bonafide grin when he tastes the fare and finds the
+ recipe.
+
He taps his chin thoughtfully with one green claw as he
+ skims the note and looks through his pantry. He chops some
+ veggies and starts pan frying them.
+
Later, when the oven dings, he smiles to himself as he
+ pulls on the new turtle pattern oven mitts and opens it.
Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly on the
+sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between Inky’s tugging and
+Jarrod’s strong, steady hand, they manage to hoist the wizard to his
+feet.
+
With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod to Jarrod,
+Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The duck, having emptied the
+plate of corn chips in record time, follows them shortly after.
+
The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside from the
+occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage seemingly having fallen
+asleep as soon as he landed on the cot in the loft. Inky retreats
+downstairs after leaving a jug of water, a mug and a small packet of
+kuding leaves beside the bed.
+
Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a dark
+corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.
+
+
~
+
+
” … and then the Orc Maiden said: ‘That’s not my club!’”
+
The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar and puts a
+bag of coin down. “Serve drinks until this runs out!” Leaning over the
+bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a whisper: “I owe a favour to
+Lucy’s Basement for the trouble. Call it in when needed.”
+
Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From his pack,
+Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the wound.
+
As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all kinds of
+hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is currently applying,
+drawing a curse from the hobbit. “Shut it! Let’s be clear. You’ve hired
+us for a dangerous set of jobs, with the understanding that we’re
+dangerous people. There may be ‘accidents’ on occasion. You’ve learned
+something today, and what’s more, you lived to absorb your new
+wisdom.”
+
Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. “We will finish what we
+have started. We’re probably the team with the best chances, I’m sure
+you’ll agree. Are you going to back the winning play here? Either way,
+your decision won’t change our plans. I’m sure you know how to take the
+win.”
+
Jarrod pats the hobbit’s good shoulder in a friendly, but dismissive,
+way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading small quips with his
+new (and now very drunk) tavern friends.
Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria
@@ -2758,10 +2804,28 @@ politics.
+
Groll
+
+A dirty mop head on long, stilt-like legs. Solitary wanderers. They love
+magic, but have no natural aptitude for it, and so covet magical items
+like wands, staves, and orbs. A typical groll is a walking arsenal of
+runes and wands.
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+groll
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Hemogoblin
-A little bloody goblinoid, flayed of its flesh and getting blood
-absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god, don’t let it touch that! Ew.
+A fluffy little goblinoid, dripping blood absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god,
+don’t let it touch that! Ew.
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