Day turned to night as the company of Halflings led by Sir Bullywick Applebag and the ogre ironguts of tyrant Oleg Skullcracker made their way into the border town of Kroppenleben within the vicinity of the black mountains where Applebag insisted a raid by goblin boss Grotsnag was surely imminent.

As the group wandered through the city gates atop their mournfangs and giant cockerel mounts they were met with all manner of quizzical looks and stares by the locals of the town, many so poorly travelled that they would consider an Averlander foreign, let alone denizens of the Moot or nomadic scavengers like these ogres. Still the group made their way through the town’s plaza up to the local inn where Applebag suggested the others waited outside as he leaned into his classic sense of charm to get them all a set of rooms.

….

◙ Laugh React: A few minutes later Applebag motioned for the others to come inside and join him for a drink.

One drink turned to two, then three, then four as the group opened up to each other and enjoyed their evening. By the time Grotsnag’s goblins arrived to steal a local farm’s cattle all the Halflings and Ogres were well and truly sloshed to the point where nothing outside mattered any more, just booze and grub.

By the time the company retired to their rooms in the inn that night, they had run up the largest bar tab this town had ever seen. Not to mention they were completely oblivious to the burning buildings and dead city guards littering the streets outside.

….

(Prelude to Like, Sad, Love, Wow and Angry react)

Five minutes later the Peer could be seen ranting and raving about Halfling persecution as a sour-faced tavern wench shooed him out of her establishment with a broom. Oh well, it looked like the group would be left spending the night in some nearby stables.

A few hours passed as the two Halfling thieves Murdbelly Furrows and Molly Scrumper kept watch while the rest of the ogre-halfling group caught some much needed shut-eye. This did not last long however, for in the darkness of the night their foes emerged.

A pack of fearsome wolf-riding goblins led by Da Skurj o’ da Black Mown-tins, Grotsnag, stormed their way past the town’s gates and went about their antics in delight, setting fire to houses and civic buildings, cutting down anyone who stood up to them in any meaningful way or merely was caught wandering the streets on sight and finally, plundering the town’s livestock reserves as the goblins sent their wolves to pillage the surrounding farmlands. Once the wolves had eaten their fill, the goblins came over and collected what remained of torn cattle carcasses into large nets and sacks before vacating the town once more.

As the town reeled over its many losses, the company of Halflings and Ogres knew this was their chance to track Grotsnag back to his lair by pursuing his wolf-pack atop their mournfangs and cockerel mounts.

….

◙ Like React: There was just one problem with this plan. Wolves are much faster than roosters and ogre mounts!

The company did their best to follow the goblins but it wasn’t long before they lost the wolves’ tracks. The goblins had escaped, they had plunged Kroppenleben into carnage and the company hadn’t even mustered the opportunity to put up a defence. It had all been for nothing.

….

(Prelude to like sad, angry, wow and love react)

The company of halflings and their ogre allies mounted up in pursuit of the roaming goblin wolf riders. They rode through the night, their thieves leading them after the wolves’ tracks, as they road through long valleys, past the streams of deep ravines and across the vast crests of the Black Mountains. As they ventured along their tiresome journey, Sir Bullywick began to ponder how a single band of goblins could possibly roam a turf this large unimpeded by other greenskinned tribes.

Finally, as dawn’s light began to rise the halflings spotted the goblins’ lair up ahead in the form of an entrance to a cave dug into the side of a canyon. They were high up at this point yet somehow, the local climate within the canyon resembled a swamp more than any other distinguishing geographic feature for there were streams and marshy grass everywhere around the cave. The company dismounted from their steeds and hid behind a ridge, looking down on the goblins who were munching their way through their spoils as their mounts laid tied to a tree stump. Yet even now after a night of eating, the sheer quantity of animal carcasses laying in front of them seemed excessive. ‘How could a mere two to three dozen goblins possibly eat their way through an entire towns’ worth of livestock without killing themselves in the process?’ Bullywick wondered privately.

Meanwhile, the ogre tyrant was growing restless. Oleg had been promised food by these tiny things, instead he had just spent the night travelling on an empty stomach. He was about to stand up, giving his position away to leap into a charge brandishing his hammer when the Halfling leader demanded he remained hidden.

“Patience Skullcracker, you will get your food I tells ya. Don’t forget the sword also, if ya kill Grotsnag with anything but that sword, the deal is off.” Applebag reminded the ogre who promptly slumped back down and crossed its arms like a petulant child. “Any sign of the gob’ we’re after?”

“There! Third from the left, wrinkly fellah, grey hood.” the second thief Molly Scrumper noted.

“Let’s do dis den! I wants mi suppa.” the tyrant demanded.

“No, no something isn’t right I tells ya.” Sir Bullywick insisted. “We wait.”

“Enough! Let dis be finished!” the tyrant screamed as he rose to his feet and abandoned his hiding spot, charging downhill armed with his mace in one hand and the claymore in another with his four irongut companions by his side, their calls for slaughter and hunger growing louder by the second.

The goblins readied for the ogres’ charge, pulling out their crude assortment of knives, spears, swords and bows as the towering ogres grew closer and closer when suddenly, a new growl entered the scene as a giant, slobbering behemoth made its presence known by hobbling out of the cave walking trunk-staff in hand, its hair bathed in fish guts, its mammaries sagging exposed, its webbed fins drenched in sheep’s blood, its arms muscular beyond any ogre’s imagination. Oleg considered turning and running in that split second before realising this would only make him a sitting duck to the goblins’ skirmishers at that point. He had no choice but to make the best of his charge.

It all made sense to Bullywick now. How a small tribe of goblins could prey on whole towns unmolested by orcs, why they were harvesting more food than they would ever need themselves. Grotsnag was leveraging the protection of a River Troll Hag!

….

◙ Sad React: The ogres charged into the fray as the troll hag shambled forward to receive their charge. The ironguts circled the troll, hoping their numbers would make up for her size difference as they struck their blades into her hide though its natural resistance allowed her to shirk off much of their impact.

The troll behaved in kind, lifting her walking staff fashioned from a wilting tree trunk and delivered a blow to one of the ironguts’ heads, shattering his skull in a single blow. From there she pressed on, knee-kicking the nearest irongut in their chest, granting a goblin archer a shot at his throat as his head reared-back on collision with the ground, before swiping the other two off their feet with her trunk. Oleg embraced the chance, lifting the sword high for a strike only for the troll to surprise him by charging in, tearing off his gut-plate by grabbing the piece by its horns and then lifting him off the ground into a bear-hug hold. She tightened her grip against her chest, forcing the tyrant to drop his weapon as his spine cracked against her resilient hide.

By now the Halflings had come down to join the fighting as Bogie Crumpot approached with his sword and shield alongside the two thieves each brandishing dual knives while Bullywick stayed on the ridge to help the chefs set up their hot-pot launcher.

The two thieves helped the two remaining ironguts up off their feet to continue fighting yet upon seeing the shame their leader was being subjected to at the hands of the troll the two remaining ironguts broke their resolve and fled. Bogie was engaged in a duel with Grotsnag, his strikes being evaded by the tricksy goblin leader who failed to deliver a strike with his One Hit Wunda that did not glance off the halfling’s shield. However, seeing as a fair fight wasn’t doing the goblin any favours, Grotsnag decided to pick a different mode of attack.

“Ey ‘Alflin! Ain’t ya late for ye secund brekfarst?” Grotsnag yelled as he picked up a stray cow’s hoof and chucked it at Bogie’s face. Bogie raised his shield to protect himself from the incoming limb and just as it made contact Grotsnag went in for the kill, gouging his weapon into the halfling’s gut. Bogie had been too slow and now he would pay the price as the goblin yanked its weapon out of his abdomen, creating a great gaping wound for him to bleed out from.

As Bogie fell at the hands of Grotsnag things were only growing worse for the company. The wolves had been let loose and were forcing Bullywick and the chefs to run away into the wilderness, leaving their artillery piece behind and the two thieves simply lacked the fighting skill to fend off dozens of goblin warriors. Yet the true horror lay in wait for the ogre tyrant Oleg Skullcracker for in addition to finding himself sandwiched against the loathsome body of a troll hag, the foul taint of death magic that hung off her was beginning to siphon away what energy, what will he still had to save his life.

In the end everything fell apart. The thieves were surrounded and stabbed to death by goblins, the wolves caught up and tore both Sir Bullywick Applebag and his chefs apart and Oleg continued to be leeched off by death magic until nothing remained of his being, providing the troll hag with a fantastic meal that night. In the end, only the two ironguts who fled early managed to survive this blunder… it was doubtful they would retain their rank after abandoning their leader to die though.

….

(Final Prelude to Wow, Angry and Love React)

The ogre tyrant and his ironguts leapt into the fray of battle as the river troll hag emerged from her cave and joined her goblin allies in a counter offensive. The troll knocked one of the ironguts over with a shoulder thrust but found herself rather overwhelmed as two ironguts slashed at her thighs while the ogre tyrant opened into a wide swing to send his mace crashing into the troll’s exposed breasts.

The troll howled in pain before turning that same piercing scream into a war-cry as her mouth opened to let out a wave of acidic bile that projected itself onto the two ironguts around her legs. The troll’s skin crawled in sickening death magic as she charged forward and grabbed the ogre tyrant by the throat before lifting him off the ground.

Choking in the troll’s grip, Oleg Skullcracker looked round for aid from his guards but to no avail as he saw the two closest ironguts still writhing in troll puke, the third irongut had been caught inside a goblin’s net and the final one was being toyed with by Grotsnag, having blinded the fourth irongut with some fungoid concoction he had sprinkled in its eyes. All seemed lost for the ogres.

Suddenly a brass pot flew through the air and collided with the troll hag’s head, damaging her as its boiling stew stuck to her hide while she was forced to let go of the tyrant. However, this was not all the Halflings had to offer for out of the shadows came the two Halfling thieves Molly and Murbelly who proceeded to slay the goblin netta and free the trapped third irongut from his bindings with their knives.

The thieves turned to the rest of Grotsnag’s goblins, fighting through the miscreant creatures in hope of saving the other ironguts while the formerly trapped ogre decided to aid his leader via a running charge at the river troll hag. The troll saw the ogre coming and braced for impact but by turning her attention to the irongut it gave Oleg a chance to finish this once and for all. The tyrant rose to his feet and whacked a shattering blow of his mace against the right side of the troll’s head, disorientating her for a moment as he drove his claymore through her stomach and twisted the blade in with his other hand for additional effect, resulting in the troll’s death as her innate regenerative capabilities were hampered by the sword’s blade still being inside her.

With his main source of protection dead, Grotsnag turned tail toward his wolf in hopes of fleeing while the halfling thieves and the lone standing irongut made short work of the other goblins. Nevertheless, Grotsnag would not escape this day for just as he was about to reach his mount’s saddle he was suddenly beset by Bogie Crumpot and his large cockerel mount. The chicken clawed at the goblin’s chest with its claws before turning its beady eyes on the goblin’s foot which it proceeded to peck at with its beak until it finally got a clear hold and tore one of the goblin’s toes off.

The day had been won. The troll was dead, the goblins slain and Grotsnag apprehended, all without the company of halflings and ogres suffering any mortal wounds incidentally. The goblin leader attempted to bargain for its life, offering all its spoils as well as the antidote to the fungoid recipe he sprinkled on the fourth irongut’s eyes. Still, tyrant Oleg Skullcracker took no notice of the goblin’s squabbling as he stood over the would-be warlord and removed its head from their shoulders using the imperial claymore, just as promised.

With the day saved Oleg Skullcracker turned to Sir Bullywick Applebag who had by now abandoned his hiding place in lieu of celebrating with his peers and uttered a simple question. “Roight den, where’s mi grub?”

“Shouldn’t you be tending to your guards, Skullcracker? I tells ya they look rather battered. As for food, well just look all around you.” Sir Bullywick spoke as he motioned toward the chunks of livestock strewn around the entrance to the cave.

“Dey’ll live.” the tyrant responded before looking at the discarded carcasses and rubbing his brow in confusion. “I see only town food, where be de food dey stole from you?”

“Ah, well I imagine the goblins or the troll ate them already.” the halfling retorted.

“No… no dey can’t be eating so much dat quickly. Der gobs too small.” the ogre continued, still confused.

“Well, what does it matter any way? I tells ya mi chefs can cook up a fine feast from what you see here… perhaps even some troll fin soup if you’re lucky.” Bullywick reasoned.

….

◙ Angry React: “No… no you lie to me!” the tyrant bellowed, becoming furious at the thought. “No thing tricks Oleg di Skullcracker and lives da tell da tale!”

“Bogie, Molly, Murbelly, everyone… run!” Bullywick screamed as he knew violence would soon again kick off.

The halflings took off for the hills, Bogie carrying Grotsnag’s head in his arms, as Oleg Scullcracker and the one still-standing irongut ran after them in pursuit. “Looks loik halflin’s back on di menu laaads!”

….

◙ Love React: The chefs got to work cooking up a fine buffet of meals for their ogre overseers including sheep’s liver pancakes, pork trotters, horse waffles, goat’s lung chops and the eponymous troll fin soup among others as well as beverages pulped from the fluid that ran within the chambers of a cow’s stomach. The meal was a great success, even managing to fill the tyrant’s appetites for an hour or two.

When the time came for the Halflings and Ogres to part way, the halflings carrying Grotsnag’s head while the ogres took most of the rest as snacks for the journey, Oleg turned to Bogie Crumpot and gifted him a brass horn, noting that should he ever be in danger again Bogie would only need to blow on that horn for Skullcracker to come running to his aid.

….

◙ Wow React: The Halfling chefs went ahead with their meal plans, serving a great buffet of dishes to their ogre companions. However, it was when the ogres started sipping from their troll fin soup that things seemed to go amiss.

“Boss, oi don’t feel so good.” the irongut warned as a sharp pain suddenly struck both his and his tyrant’s stomachs.

“Oh, did I forget to tells ya? I asked my chefs not to process those fins’ restorative effects… also I asked them not to remove the troll’s bile duct.” Sir Bullywick chastised.

“Wh… whoi?” the tyrant muttered between groans.

“Come now Skullcracker, you understand business don’t ye? I need to get my boy Bogie into the High Helms. Completing this quest for the goblin’s head was a good start but throwing in the defeat of a local ogre tyrant as well for good measure? That’s bound to get Bogie some more intention. So nothing personal, I’m sure you were a decent chap in your own way. I would bid you toodeloo until the next time our paths cross but given what you have just eaten, I expect you will spend the next decade vomiting up your own insides in a bog somewhere. Goodbye Skullcracker, it hasn’t been pleasant.” Bullywick finished as his band of halflings packed up and left the ogres to their own misery.