“Well,” Lieutenant Merric Gard muttered, “that was above expectations.”
“Yes! Yes, it was!” Caravan Master Mook was fuming. “We lost both of the outriders, and they didn’t trigger the ambush, and their remounts broke their necks for no apparent reason.”
“The reason was that there was a fucking battle,” Lieutenant One-Venture-Commanding Surge snarled. “In which we got fucking wrecked. By a bunch of goblins!”
“A bunch of goblins,” Harriet pointed out, “and a hobgoblin, and an acolyte. Who was human, I think? I mean, he looks like he was human.”
“What the fuck are you doing in the tent,” Surge ground out, “and why did nobody notice you?”
“Stelth,” she memed, and everyone blinked twice, staring at her. “Never mind, whatever, it’s fine, I can leave.”
“Who gives a shit? Stick around.” Surge spat on the ground, then looked momentarily sheepish as everyone glared at her. She produced a rag out of apparently nowhere, dropped it, and mopped the spot with her foot as though it were a floor instead of dirt. “Anyway. Everyone performed to expectations, there were just twice as many goblins as we’d expected. And a hobgoblin, and an acolyte.”
“Mook,” Gard asked calmly, “leaving aside the question of why the goblins around here have enough hobs to throw them into suicide ambushes, why are there humans working with them?”
“Rumor has it that there’s magicorium in these here hills,” he said with a shrug. “Rumor has it, that’s why they’re reopening and expanding the Falls Mines.”
“Oh, come on.” Gard rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows magicorium is a myth. The name’s even more absurd than what people say it can do.”
“So what’s the actual story?”
“What the fucking Gods-damned shitballs are you doing in here?”
Cassandra shrugged. “Stelth practice,” she deadpanned, and then high-fived her daughter over the girl’s high-pitched squeal of glee. “Query says that magicorium doesn’t exist, by the way, so chances are it in fact does not.”
“Mom, what’s a hobgoblin? In the context of here, I mean. I didn’t get a chance to really see the one before Dad hit it.”
Hobgoblin
Medium humanoid (goblinoid), lawful evil
Armor Class: 18 (chain mail, shield)
Hit Points: 11 (2d8 + 2)
Speed: 30 ft.
Stats: 13 | 12 | 12 | 10 | 10 | 9
Senses: darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 10
Languages: Common, Goblin
Challenge: 1/2 (100 XP)
Martial Advantage: Once per turn, the hobgoblin can deal an extra 7 (2d6) damage to a creature it hits with a weapon attack if that creature is within 5 feet of an ally of the hobgoblin that isn't incapacitated.
Actions
Longsword: Melee Weapon Attack: +3 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 5 (1d8 + 1) slashing damage, or 6 (1d10 + 1) slashing damage if used with two hands.
Longbow: Ranged Weapon Attack: +3 to hit, range 150/600 ft., one target. Hit: 5 (1d8 + 1) piercing damage.
“A goblin,” the Sorceress said calmly, “but bigger. Twice the size, bigger stats, theoretically twice the challenge, bigger weapons. Still doctrinaire Lawful Evil.”
“Forced alignment? Honey, are you sure?” Jason frowned. “I feel like born evil is kind of… I dunno, I don’t like it.”
“And how the fuck did you get in here?” Surge was clearly past screaming—instead, she was gearing up for an exasperated rant.
“I… walked in the doorflap of the tent?” The Paladin shrugged, blinking in amiable confusion. “My wife and daughter are in here. Where else would I be?”
“… you know what, fine, that’s reasonable,” Surge muttered. “Anyway, goblins aren’t born.”
“Er.” Jason blinked in confusion. “Aren’t… born?”
“No! They aren’t born!” The Lieutenant-Commanding’s hands slammed down onto her armored thighs. “They manifest out of the combination of darkness and refuse somehow! I’m not a fucking scholar, I don’t know the details. But they don’t have a reproductive system! I’ve cut enough of them open to know!”
“Okay, okay.” Jason’s hands came out, palms forward, placatingly. “Let’s not get too excited. Indoor voices, right?”
Rolling Persuasion (Charm) | 1d20+3
“Don’t you fucking toddler-talk me,” Surge grumbled. “That’s my schtick.”
“Mom?” Harriet poked her mother. “Mom? Are you there?”
“Mrrh,” Cassandra responded with incredible coherence. “Feels like… over-wide truck load… trying to enter brain.”
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
“About what, toddlers? Mom, you already know toddlers. And how to talk to them like a mom.”
“Gremlin… girl. No.”
And suddenly, the information managed to burst its way through the walls of Cassandra Claire’s mind, a catastrophe of breadth-of-knowledge that was too broad for the gates of thought.
Alignment
A typical creature in the game world has an alignment, which broadly describes its moral and personal attitudes. Alignment is a combination of two factors: one identifies morality (good, evil, or neutral), and the other describes attitudes toward society and order (lawful, chaotic, or neutral). Thus, nine distinct alignments define the possible combinations. These brief summaries of the nine alignments describe the typical behavior of a creature with that alignment. Individuals might vary significantly from that typical behavior, and few people are perfectly and consistently faithful to the precepts of their alignment.
Lawful good (LG) creatures can be counted on to do the right thing as expected by society. Gold dragons, paladins, and most dwarves are lawful good.
Neutral good (NG) folk do the best they can to help others according to their needs. Many celestials, some cloud giants, and most gnomes are neutral good.
Chaotic good (CG) creatures act as their conscience directs, with little regard for what others expect. Copper dragons, many elves, and unicorns are chaotic good.
Lawful neutral (LN) individuals act in accordance with law, tradition, or personal codes. Many monks and some wizards are lawful neutral.
Neutral (N) is the alignment of those who prefer to steer clear of moral questions and don't take sides, doing what seems best at the time. Lizardfolk, most druids, and many humans are neutral.
Chaotic neutral (CN) creatures follow their whims, holding their personal freedom above all else. Many barbarians and rogues, and some bards, are chaotic neutral.
Lawful evil (LE) creatures methodically take what they want, within the limits of a code of tradition, loyalty, or order. Devils, blue dragons, and hobgoblins are lawful evil.
Neutral evil (NE) is the alignment of those who do whatever they can get away with, without compassion or qualms. Many drow, some cloud giants, and goblins are neutral evil.
Chaotic evil (CE) creatures act with arbitrary violence, spurred by their greed, hatred, or bloodlust. Demons, red dragons, and orcs are chaotic evil.
Alignment in the Multiverse
For many thinking creatures, alignment is a moral choice. Humans, dwarves, elves, and other humanoid races can choose whether to follow the paths of good or evil, law or chaos. According to myth, the good-aligned gods who created these races gave them free will to choose their moral paths, knowing that good without free will is slavery. The evil deities who created other races, though, made those races to serve them. Those races have strong inborn tendencies that match the nature of their gods. Most orcs share the violent, savage nature of the orc gods, and are thus inclined toward evil. Even if an orc chooses a good alignment, it struggles against its innate tendencies for its entire life. (Even half-orcs feel the lingering pull of the orc god's influence.)
Alignment is an essential part of the nature of celestials and fiends. A devil does not choose to be lawful evil, and it doesn't tend toward lawful evil, but rather it is lawful evil in its essence. If it somehow ceased to be lawful evil, it would cease to be a devil.
Most creatures that lack the capacity for rational thought do not have alignments - they are unaligned. Such a creature is incapable of making a moral or ethical choice and acts according to its bestial nature. Sharks are savage predators, for example, but they are not evil; they have no alignment.
“Fuck,” she gasped. “Fucking fuck,” she elaborated eloquently.
“Ibuprofen, dear?”
Cassandra had already reached out to accept the two round pills by the time her brain caught up. “Jason?”
“Ma’am?”
She swallowed the pills, chasing them down with water from her waterskin. “How,” she complained, “do you have ibuprofen with you?”
“I always have ibuprofen, dear.” He smiled at her, his practically-trademarked big broad dumb goofy grin. “Also water, kleenex, bandaids, and a few other things.”
“Dad,” Harriet interjected, “I think what mom’s asking is how you kept all of that stuff with you even though everything we had stayed home, and we were all in new, this-world-appropriate clothes?”
A broad, beautiful pair of brows furrowed as he worked through the disconnect. Eventually, he just shrugged, then grinned again. “I dunno! Never occurred to me. I always have ‘em, you know? Just in case my wife or my girl needs something.”
“You’re such a dumbass, Dad.”
“I love you too, honey,” he said, bending down much further than usual to kiss the top of her head. “Are you doing okay? I know the first real fight can be hard on you.”
“Look, far be it for me to interrupt and break up this extremely charming domestic moment,” interrupted Caravan Master Mook, breaking up the moment, “but maybe you should have it after we finish here? Unless you want to leave.” He looked at the doorflap of the tent meaningfully.
“Does anyone here actually know anything about what we ran into?” Cassandra propped her hands on her hips, looking around the tent. “I mean, a bunch of goblins, a hobgoblin, and an… acolyte, what’s an acolyte, and why did Query not already blast my brain with—”
Acolyte
Medium humanoid (any race), any alignment
Armor Class: 10
Hit Points: 9 (2d8)
Speed: 30 ft.
Stats: 10 | 10 | 10 | 10 | 14 | 11
Skills: Medicine +4, Religion +2
Senses: passive Perception 12
Languages: any one language (usually Common)
Challenge: 1/4 (50 XP)
Spellcasting: The acolyte is a 1st-level spellcaster. Its spellcasting ability is Wisdom (spell save DC 12, +4 to hit with spell attacks). The acolyte has following cleric spells prepared:
Cantrips (at will): light, sacred flame, thaumaturgy
1st level (3 slots): bless, cure wounds, sanctuary
Actions
Club. Melee Weapon Attack: +2 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 2 (1d4) bludgeoning damage.
Description
Acolytes are junior members of a clergy, usually answerable to a priest. They perform a variety of functions in a temple and are granted minor spellcasting power by their deities.
“—the relevant information, what the fuck kind of deity is a priest following that he’s fucking around with a bunch of goblins, ambushing wagons on the way to a mine?”
Mook looked at Lieutenants Gard and Surge, grimacing. “Politics?”
Surge shrugged. “Island politics,” she said flatly, shrugging. “My briefings didn’t include anything.”
“Economics?” Gard gave an almost identical shrug. “Two Wolves had zilch, but there were a bunch of conflicting rumors about why the Mines are reopening over in the bars.”
“Useless.” Mook sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Fine. Fine! Let’s just… get this fucking shit delivered and go from there.”
Two armored fists saluted, and the meeting dissolved into order as everyone got moving again.