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Shrogo's Odyssey I

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[!] A glass bottle corked by a mushroom, washes onto the northern shores of Atlas, finding its way to the orcs of Krugmar and eventually the goblin clan of Shrogo [!]





From the darkness darted beady yellow eyes. Suddenly before them crackled a fire, waving slowly before their faces. They shuddered from the light, but the hand holding it shook with terror. The walls were stacked with shelves upon shelves of mushrooms, a wide array of colors decorating the otherwise dull, grainy, cavern walls. Shadows of a goblin, stretching across the walls, danced to and fro.


“Yes! Yes, I see, I see!” The face snarled, a sickening grin wide across his face underneath his black hood. In his hands he held a crooked staff, a fetish of The Bad Moon hung from the top. “Oh, oh, yes, the mushroom speaks loud and clear! Luara, Betharuz, SHNUB! Speak to lat’s MUSHOB, MYGENABA!” He screeched and cackled with ear splitting laughter. The goblins before him shuffled backwards, their backs to the rock walls.


The frail goblin, small even for Shrogo standards, illuminated what the staff wielding goblin held in its free hand. A mushroom, skinny and tall with a wide, thick, red cap. “Ah, beautiful mad-cap, this one will do, ha-ha!” He motioned to the tiny torch wielding goblin, who set it ablaze. In a strange feat, the Mushob simultaneously smoked and ate the strange fungus. He was almost frothing at the mouth, his body shaking wildly without predictability. The cave was thus filled with incomprehensible screaming and the sound of rhythmic beating, the Mushob slamming his staff into the ground over and over again.


“Spread like spores, spread, spores of Shnub! Oh, the mushroom speaks-speaks!” Whether out of pure luck or fate, the Mushob pointed his bony finger at a certain goblin, larger and fatter than the others. “You, the mad-caps speak of! Yes, lead a legion of black across the sea. Ride upon our mushrooms, and the Bad Moon will smile its crooked smile!” He jumped and fell on his back, kicking and clawing the air as he shouted. “Gobbgoth! Go and leave now or I’ll beat you with my stick! Snotling! Get me another mushroom!” The fire faded, and the visiting goblins would move out in a large, loud crowd.


Word would spread quickly throughout the cave-dens of Shrogo. Whispers whistled down the winding maze-like tunnels, so it was no surprise that even the neighboring clans and tribes had heard of their planned departure. The Gobbgoth of their unnamed homeland, high on mushrooms, gave permission to the departing group, and supplied them with shoddily made ships fashioned from wood, metal, hide, and mushroom. In droves they left in the cover of night, unknowing of the hardships they would face out on the seas.


It was no surprise, even to the new Gobbgoth, Shiitake’Shrogo, that they would have trouble on their journey. Their goal was to follow in the footsteps of Schnub’Nub, but with no way to really know which way the fabled goblin hero went, the only certainty of direction was where some saw Schnub’Nub set sail all those years ago. Even then, the reports were more than conflicting, due to the small handful of witnesses and mushrooms obviously diluting their already tiny minds. Not only that, but the Shrogo were goblins of the dark, to prowl the night and cower in their caves, so they were completely oblivious on both ship building and sailing. But with the odds stacked against them, their homeland faded out of their view.

Edited by Ougi

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