GET FUCKED ON HALITROUS. Before I got attacked by you bundle of stickss I had no idea that you existed, i still have no idea who you are, or what that stupid name means. You should probably just give up on strat or reform under a different name because it sucks. How does an army even lose that fight? I mean holy shit you had like 500 tickets and village gear against our free peasant gear nonsense and you got absolutely dumped on. TRASH.
Big thanks to all of you cool fuckers that signed up and showed up to fight for me. I had a ton of fun. I absolutely expected to get 0 roster support and lose in the first few minutes. I will remember the people that help me out, it is appreciated and I will have your backs in the future.
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There is a time and a place for everything.
After weeks of monotonous trading in pursuit of the all mighty shekel I found myself at the doorstep of Tadsamesh more than ready for some well needed R&R. The fruits and pleasures of Tadsamesh had me idle and sexually drained for what seemed like an eternity.
My extended stay was inevitably discovered by a lord of the local reigning faction, BenGem the flaccid. He was a queer man, and not in a good way, he was a lord and commander of 500 men (soldiers most of them) and I quickly found out he was overly protective of his young handsome son. To set the record straight, BenGem the youngerer came on to me, not the other way around.
Once the Lord discovered that a GOBBLIN like myself had intimate relations with his only son and heir, me and my traveling companions (400 men, mostly rapists, slaves, slave rapists, and rapist slaves) were arrested and sentenced to death without a chance to legally defend myself. I plead with them to just let bygones be bygones, but this flaccid lord just would not listen to me. I was stripped of my items and clothing before he had me chained up in the horse stables to sleep in horse shit and cry myself to sleep.
I knew it was over for me, what a sorry sight I must have been. The first day was horrible, i tried to commit sudoku by drowning myself in horseshit, but I was just too craven to finish myself off. They say a man only really knows himself when he tries to drown himself in feces.
On the second night, once I was sure that the following day I would be slain like a chicken, a glimmer of hope came to me. A local stable rat had been sharing my living spaces and being a little annoying fucker most of the time, but he was my only friend in that nightmare. After feeding him some of the most quality horse shit that I had, I looked that dirty fucking rat straight in his beady eyes and asked him to leave my stable and find me some fucking help. To my amazement the rat nodded, ate some more feces, and fled with great haste right out into the night. I knew at this point that insanity gripped me tightly, but the hope remained that this rat would bail me out somehow.
Obviously the following morning the rat did not return with or without help and I could only curse myself for not eating him when I had the chance. Today was the day of my execution and at this point I was ready for death. When the guards came for me, I rubbed one out for old times sake and prepared to welcome death. They took me and my men into the fields to be used as live meatbag sword practice for the lord and his soldiers.
I drew my breath and took one last look at the sky and then looked around to see the faces of my doomed companions. However, I started to realize that I recognized none of them. These were not the rapist slaves that I was imprisoned with, these men looked fierce and confident. Then it caught my eye, they had concealed weapons. Not anything that could match the lord's well equipped battlefield army, but makeshift shivs and peasant utensils that could be easily hidden away. Who were these warriors? Just as my executioners caught on to the fact that their prisoners were armed, one man drew a 1h sword and exclaimed loudly "J’suis tanné! Let us kill these FCC vassal puuties!" His roars awakened me to the situation I was in and I rushed the guard nearest me with a cunning bite to his fucking jugular. Now I too was armed and his blood tasted better than any horse shit in existence, of high quality or not.
Hope was now firm in my heart and I finally realized just what had happened. This man was Arowaine, general of the GOBBLIN army, he had recently gone missing after a failed attempt on his life. He must have been hiding nearby while recouping strength and heard the cries of my savior rat.
I started recognizing more and more of my friends among this rescue party, many well trained GOBBLINS were among them, and some of my oldest and dearest friends (GOBBLINS and not) were here just to save my life. No longer did I welcome death, now I hungered for the death of my enemies fighting side by side with legends of old and friends of my youth. Our enemies were shaken, but still were confident and eager to slay us all with their superior weaponry. What they didn't account for was the indisputable fact that they were all fucking TRASH, i mean lel holy shit they suck so bad. With every advantage in the world they came at us and were destroit by men equipped with shovels and wood axes. Arowaine's voice gave confidence to every man on our side of the battlefield as he let us know exactly what we had to do in order to dumpster the dumpsters.
We held lines with the courage of GOBBLINS as the enemy overextended and broke upon us. I was never more alive and alert, as we slaughtered these fucking baddies. In my head all I could think of were the words of the GOBBLIN GREAT LEADER that I heard many moons ago "KILL THEM AND CALL THEM TRASH" and I knew in my heart that he was proud wherever he may be. Only as the final enemies were crumbling and the chants of "USA" "TRASH" and "PATRIOT EAGLE" were shouted in all caps across the battlefield did we all understand that total victory was ours. A well equipped army composed of dumpsters and dumpster leaders never stood a chance against the commanding presence of Gobblin_General_Arowaine, hero of the FCC holocaust, a man I have fought against countless times in other ages whom now had come to my total rescue. Friendship is a vague word, but these men that came to my aid are more than worthy of my devotion.
The last of the lord's guard was slain and I had the personal pleasure to watch the lord cry about how life is unfair. We took that kid's lunch money, killed off his troops, and sent him on his way, one son and heir short because that fine piece of ass was coming with me. I smiled, I laughed, I hugged the people around me and saw on the overlooking hill was THE GOBBLIN KING himself atop his mighty GOBBLIN STEED CIKEL. These great men came to this shit land to save me, just one of their many men. I ran up to him and asked how in the world my savior rat lead them back to me only for him to tell me that I was a fucking idiot loon and that they already knew I was captured long before any rat related shenanigans. With my mind now crystal clear I said my thanks to the brave men that risked their lives to save me and began my journey back to the current GOBBLIN homeland, but not before DUMPING on the Tadsamesh S&D because fuck those guys.
That night and many nights after I helped myself to the fine booty of BenGem the youngerer, and I reached the conclusion that there is a time and place for everything. The right time to booty pound a lordling is after you lay waste to his father's army, never before.
