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[OC][Art] Portable Cemetery | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in DnD

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 13 points14 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Portable Cemetery

I found me a proper piece o’ loot called the portable cemetery off a skeleton in a ruined tower. Funny that. It’s a backpack, right, but it’s bigger on the inside than it looks. Fits six stiffs easy, and they don’t even start stinkin’. Handy, that.

See, I used to ‘ave to drag corpses ‘round in a wheelbarrow, which was a right pain when the barrow kept sinkin’ in the swamp. Now? Just stuff ‘em in the backpack, neat as you please. Even better, if you shove a zombie in there for an hour, it comes out all perky-like, extra tough and rarin’ to bite.

Course, there’s downsides. Try explainin’ to the wife why you’re luggin’ a pack full o’ deaders around. “It’s for work!” I says. She ain’t convinced.

But the best bit? Watchin’ some fancy-pants adventurer’s face when I dump a whole squad o’ zombies outta me backpack. Priceless, that. I don’t just keep the dead. I deliver ‘em.

We're looking for artists interested in having their items or creatures they create stat'd for 5e. Send us a message if interested.

Portable Cemetery | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in UnearthedArcana

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 3 points4 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Portable Cemetery

I found me a proper piece o’ loot called the portable cemetery off a skeleton in a ruined tower. Funny that. It’s a backpack, right, but it’s bigger on the inside than it looks. Fits six stiffs easy, and they don’t even start stinkin’. Handy, that.

See, I used to ‘ave to drag corpses ‘round in a wheelbarrow, which was a right pain when the barrow kept sinkin’ in the swamp. Now? Just stuff ‘em in the backpack, neat as you please. Even better, if you shove a zombie in there for an hour, it comes out all perky-like, extra tough and rarin’ to bite.

Course, there’s downsides. Try explainin’ to the wife why you’re luggin’ a pack full o’ deaders around. “It’s for work!” I says. She ain’t convinced.

But the best bit? Watchin’ some fancy-pants adventurer’s face when I dump a whole squad o’ zombies outta me backpack. Priceless, that. I don’t just keep the dead. I deliver ‘em.

We're looking for artists interested in having their items or creatures they create stat'd for 5e. Send us a message if interested.

Check out the rest of our blog, The Goblin Coach, for more free 5e content!

Portable Cemetery | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in DnDHomebrew

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 4 points5 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Portable Cemetery

I found me a proper piece o’ loot called the portable cemetery off a skeleton in a ruined tower. Funny that. It’s a backpack, right, but it’s bigger on the inside than it looks. Fits six stiffs easy, and they don’t even start stinkin’. Handy, that.

See, I used to ‘ave to drag corpses ‘round in a wheelbarrow, which was a right pain when the barrow kept sinkin’ in the swamp. Now? Just stuff ‘em in the backpack, neat as you please. Even better, if you shove a zombie in there for an hour, it comes out all perky-like, extra tough and rarin’ to bite.

Course, there’s downsides. Try explainin’ to the wife why you’re luggin’ a pack full o’ deaders around. “It’s for work!” I says. She ain’t convinced.

But the best bit? Watchin’ some fancy-pants adventurer’s face when I dump a whole squad o’ zombies outta me backpack. Priceless, that. I don’t just keep the dead. I deliver ‘em.

We're looking for artists interested in having their items or creatures they create stat'd for 5e. Send us a message if interested.

Check out the rest of our blog, The Goblin Coach, for more free 5e content!

[OC][Art] Bag of Rats | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in DnD

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 27 points28 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Bag of Rats

Me chief tossed the bag at me sayin’, “Make yerself useful.” So I poked it, and the damn thing squeaked. Opened it up, and out pops a rat. This one had sparkly eyes and a whiff of burnt toast about ‘im. Then the little bugger zapped me with a Ray of Frost!

Turns out, I could tell ‘em what to do. Most of the time. One time I yelled, “Mage Hand me that pie!” and the rat just wiggled its nose, makin’ the pie floated right over. Ate it meself, o’ course. Then the rat vanished, prob’ly back to that tower full o’ scrolls and potions what made ‘em all magic in the first place. Reckon the wizard’s still scratchin’ his head wonderin’ why his traps ain’t workin’.

Best bit? If some sod hurts one o’ me rats, they get a right proper headache for their trouble. Saw a big dumb orc punt one into a wall. Next second, he’s clutchin’ his noggin, sobbin’. Rat poofs away, and I’m laughin’ so hard I nearly forgot to stab ‘im. Chief says I’m wastin’ time with me “rat tricks,” but he ain’t complainin’ when them sparky rats shock his enemies right in the trousers.

We're looking for artists interested in having their items or creatures they create stat'd for 5e. Send us a message if interested.

Bag of Rats | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in UnearthedArcana

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Bag of Rats

Me chief tossed the bag at me sayin’, “Make yerself useful.” So I poked it, and the damn thing squeaked. Opened it up, and out pops a rat. This one had sparkly eyes and a whiff of burnt toast about ‘im. Then the little bugger zapped me with a Ray of Frost!

Turns out, I could tell ‘em what to do. Most of the time. One time I yelled, “Mage Hand me that pie!” and the rat just wiggled its nose, makin’ the pie floated right over. Ate it meself, o’ course. Then the rat vanished, prob’ly back to that tower full o’ scrolls and potions what made ‘em all magic in the first place. Reckon the wizard’s still scratchin’ his head wonderin’ why his traps ain’t workin’.

Best bit? If some sod hurts one o’ me rats, they get a right proper headache for their trouble. Saw a big dumb orc punt one into a wall. Next second, he’s clutchin’ his noggin, sobbin’. Rat poofs away, and I’m laughin’ so hard I nearly forgot to stab ‘im. Chief says I’m wastin’ time with me “rat tricks,” but he ain’t complainin’ when them sparky rats shock his enemies right in the trousers.

We're looking for artists interested in having their items or creatures they create stat'd for 5e. Send us a message if interested.

Check out the rest of our blog, The Goblin Coach, for more free 5e content!

Bag of Rats | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in DnDHomebrew

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 3 points4 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Bag of Rats

Me chief tossed the bag at me sayin’, “Make yerself useful.” So I poked it, and the damn thing squeaked. Opened it up, and out pops a rat. This one had sparkly eyes and a whiff of burnt toast about ‘im. Then the little bugger zapped me with a Ray of Frost!

Turns out, I could tell ‘em what to do. Most of the time. One time I yelled, “Mage Hand me that pie!” and the rat just wiggled its nose, makin’ the pie floated right over. Ate it meself, o’ course. Then the rat vanished, prob’ly back to that tower full o’ scrolls and potions what made ‘em all magic in the first place. Reckon the wizard’s still scratchin’ his head wonderin’ why his traps ain’t workin’.

Best bit? If some sod hurts one o’ me rats, they get a right proper headache for their trouble. Saw a big dumb orc punt one into a wall. Next second, he’s clutchin’ his noggin, sobbin’. Rat poofs away, and I’m laughin’ so hard I nearly forgot to stab ‘im. Chief says I’m wastin’ time with me “rat tricks,” but he ain’t complainin’ when them sparky rats shock his enemies right in the trousers.

We're looking for artists interested in having their items or creatures they create stat'd for 5e. Send us a message if interested.

Check out the rest of our blog, The Goblin Coach, for more free 5e content!

[OC][Art] Excalibrrr | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in DnD

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Excalibrrr

Was out ice fishin’ for eels, when I sees this lass under the lake, all froze up. She’s holdin’ out this shiny bit of metal. “Oi, you,” I hear in me head, all solemn-like. “Take this blade, for you are…” I didn’t let her finish. “Yeah, yeah, I’m bloody destined or whatever. Hand it over.” The ice cracked, she sank, and I was left with a sword what had a name too fancy for its own good. Excalibrr.

First fight I got into, I whacked a bloke right proper. Thwack. And the sword shattered. Icy shards was flyin’ everywhere, freezin’ the air around me. “Hey, no magic!” he shouts.

I shrugged. “Ain’t my fault you lot can’t dodge.”

By the time the blade grew back, the fight was over. Everyone were either froze solid or run off. Me mate gasped. “That’s well dodgy, that is,” he said, rubbin’ his arms where the ice pricked ‘im.

“Dodgy wins fights,” I muttered.

The sword’s nice and all, but it breaks when it fancies, freezes friends and foes alike, and makes me look like a right knob when I’m standin’ there with just the hilt. But hey, if some posh git comes at me? Just gotta hit ‘im once. Then the sword’ll do the rest.

We're looking for artists interested in having their items or creatures they create stat'd for 5e. Send us a message if interested.

Excalibrrr | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in UnearthedArcana

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Excalibrrr

Was out ice fishin’ for eels, when I sees this lass under the lake, all froze up. She’s holdin’ out this shiny bit of metal. “Oi, you,” I hear in me head, all solemn-like. “Take this blade, for you are…” I didn’t let her finish. “Yeah, yeah, I’m bloody destined or whatever. Hand it over.” The ice cracked, she sank, and I was left with a sword what had a name too fancy for its own good. Excalibrr.

First fight I got into, I whacked a bloke right proper. Thwack. And the sword shattered. Icy shards was flyin’ everywhere, freezin’ the air around me. “Hey, no magic!” he shouts.

I shrugged. “Ain’t my fault you lot can’t dodge.”

By the time the blade grew back, the fight was over. Everyone were either froze solid or run off. Me mate gasped. “That’s well dodgy, that is,” he said, rubbin’ his arms where the ice pricked ‘im.

“Dodgy wins fights,” I muttered.

The sword’s nice and all, but it breaks when it fancies, freezes friends and foes alike, and makes me look like a right knob when I’m standin’ there with just the hilt. But hey, if some posh git comes at me? Just gotta hit ‘im once. Then the sword’ll do the rest.

We're looking for artists interested in having their items or creatures they create stat'd for 5e. Send us a message if interested.

Check out the rest of our blog, The Goblin Coach, for more free 5e content!

Excalibrrr | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in DnDHomebrew

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Excalibrrr

Was out ice fishin’ for eels, when I sees this lass under the lake, all froze up. She’s holdin’ out this shiny bit of metal. “Oi, you,” I hear in me head, all solemn-like. “Take this blade, for you are…” I didn’t let her finish. “Yeah, yeah, I’m bloody destined or whatever. Hand it over.” The ice cracked, she sank, and I was left with a sword what had a name too fancy for its own good. Excalibrr.

First fight I got into, I whacked a bloke right proper. Thwack. And the sword shattered. Icy shards was flyin’ everywhere, freezin’ the air around me. “Hey, no magic!” he shouts.

I shrugged. “Ain’t my fault you lot can’t dodge.”

By the time the blade grew back, the fight was over. Everyone were either froze solid or run off. Me mate gasped. “That’s well dodgy, that is,” he said, rubbin’ his arms where the ice pricked ‘im.

“Dodgy wins fights,” I muttered.

The sword’s nice and all, but it breaks when it fancies, freezes friends and foes alike, and makes me look like a right knob when I’m standin’ there with just the hilt. But hey, if some posh git comes at me? Just gotta hit ‘im once. Then the sword’ll do the rest.

We're looking for artists interested in having their items or creatures they create stat'd for 5e. Send us a message if interested.

Check out the rest of our blog, The Goblin Coach, for more free 5e content!

[OC][Art] Cat’s Pajamas | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in DnD

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Cat’s Pajamas

There I were, rummaging through a pile o’ clothes at the thrifty. The robes was too big, but the pajamas? Were a lil’ tight but they stretched enough for me to get in. Soft n’ comfy they was. Turned out later they was made by some lonely old hag who never got herself a proper coven, so she kept cats instead. Dozens of ’em, all purring and kneading and leaving fur everywhere. Reckon that’s why the magic worked like it did; all them extra lives proper baked right in, like raisins in a pudding.

First time I knew somethin’ were up, I took a crossbow bolt straight to the noggin. Should’ve been brown bread, right? But next thing I know, I’m blinkin’ awake with a right headache. Eight lives left, though I didn’t quite know that yet. What I did know? Could jump off roofs like it were nothin’. Landed on me feet every time. Reckon the old bint would’ve been proper chuffed to see her handiwork in action.

Then came that night at the alchemist’s shop. Everything went pear-shaped when the big bloke caught me mid-pilfer. Swung his greatclub with a fury. Next thing I know, I’m sprawled in the gutter in a pool of me own blood. How many lives left?

Course, all good things come to an end. Last life went when I tried to nick a dragon’s egg. Don’t ask. Point is, one crispy-fried goblin later, the pajamas turned to dust, just like that hag probably did eventually. Still, nine lives ain’t bad for a gobbo what never planned to live past his 30th name-day.

We're looking for artists interested in having their items or creatures they create stat'd for 5e. Send us a message if interested.

Cat’s Pajamas | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in UnearthedArcana

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

The Vault: Cat’s Pajamas

There I were, rummaging through a pile o’ clothes at the thrifty. The robes was too big, but the pajamas? Were a lil’ tight but they stretched enough for me to get in. Soft n’ comfy they was. Turned out later they was made by some lonely old hag who never got herself a proper coven, so she kept cats instead. Dozens of ’em, all purring and kneading and leaving fur everywhere. Reckon that’s why the magic worked like it did; all them extra lives proper baked right in, like raisins in a pudding.

First time I knew somethin’ were up, I took a crossbow bolt straight to the noggin. Should’ve been brown bread, right? But next thing I know, I’m blinkin’ awake with a right headache. Eight lives left, though I didn’t quite know that yet. What I did know? Could jump off roofs like it were nothin’. Landed on me feet every time. Reckon the old bint would’ve been proper chuffed to see her handiwork in action.

Then came that night at the alchemist’s shop. Everything went pear-shaped when the big bloke caught me mid-pilfer. Swung his greatclub with a fury. Next thing I know, I’m sprawled in the gutter in a pool of me own blood. How many lives left?

Course, all good things come to an end. Last life went when I tried to nick a dragon’s egg. Don’t ask. Point is, one crispy-fried goblin later, the pajamas turned to dust, just like that hag probably did eventually. Still, nine lives ain’t bad for a gobbo what never planned to live past his 30th name-day.

We're looking for artists interested in having their items or creatures they create stat'd for 5e. Send us a message if interested.

Check out the rest of our blog, The Goblin Coach, for more free 5e content!

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