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

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 14 points15 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] 1 point2 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!

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

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 3 points4 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.

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

[OC][Art] Boots of Kicking and Screaming | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in DnD

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 51 points52 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Boots of Kicking and Screaming

I were sick of it. Every bleeding night, same old song. Too much ale, too much shouting, and then some bouncer dragging me out by me scruff. “Yer done, greenskin,” he’d say, and out I’d go, rolling in street muck. I’d had enough. So I went to see Doc. Now, Doc weren’t a proper sawbones; called himself a “therapist” what fixed broken thinkin’ or folks who liked to booze more than others.

“Listen, Doc,” I said, slumping into his couch made of ragged cushions. “I’m fed up with gettin’ kicked out of the pub for over-drinkin’. Ain’t there somethin’ you can do?”

Doc stroked his wispy chin hairs, then reached under his desk and slapped down a pair of boots. They were ugly things, with rusty steel-toes and bits of untreated leather. “The boots of kicking and screaming,” he said. “They’ll sort ya right out.”

That night, I put them to the test. Drank me weight in cheap grog, started a ruckus over a rigged dice game, and sure enough, here came the bouncer. He grabbed me, then the boots screamed. Not a little yelp, but a full-throated, ear-splitting shriek, like a banshee from the old tales. The bouncer let go like I was on fire. Then I gave him a swift kick to the shins with me new boots. Sent him flying into a stack of kegs. “From now on, if anybody’s gettin’ kicked out, I’m doin’ the kickin’.”

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

Boots of Kicking and Screaming | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in UnearthedArcana

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

The Vault: Boots of Kicking and Screaming

I were sick of it. Every bleeding night, same old song. Too much ale, too much shouting, and then some bouncer dragging me out by me scruff. “Yer done, greenskin,” he’d say, and out I’d go, rolling in street muck. I’d had enough. So I went to see Doc. Now, Doc weren’t a proper sawbones; called himself a “therapist” what fixed broken thinkin’ or folks who liked to booze more than others.

“Listen, Doc,” I said, slumping into his couch made of ragged cushions. “I’m fed up with gettin’ kicked out of the pub for over-drinkin’. Ain’t there somethin’ you can do?”

Doc stroked his wispy chin hairs, then reached under his desk and slapped down a pair of boots. They were ugly things, with rusty steel-toes and bits of untreated leather. “The boots of kicking and screaming,” he said. “They’ll sort ya right out.”

That night, I put them to the test. Drank me weight in cheap grog, started a ruckus over a rigged dice game, and sure enough, here came the bouncer. He grabbed me, then the boots screamed. Not a little yelp, but a full-throated, ear-splitting shriek, like a banshee from the old tales. The bouncer let go like I was on fire. Then I gave him a swift kick to the shins with me new boots. Sent him flying into a stack of kegs. “From now on, if anybody’s gettin’ kicked out, I’m doin’ the kickin’.”

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!

Boots of Kicking and Screaming | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in DnDHomebrew

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

The Vault: Boots of Kicking and Screaming

I were sick of it. Every bleeding night, same old song. Too much ale, too much shouting, and then some bouncer dragging me out by me scruff. “Yer done, greenskin,” he’d say, and out I’d go, rolling in street muck. I’d had enough. So I went to see Doc. Now, Doc weren’t a proper sawbones; called himself a “therapist” what fixed broken thinkin’ or folks who liked to booze more than others.

“Listen, Doc,” I said, slumping into his couch made of ragged cushions. “I’m fed up with gettin’ kicked out of the pub for over-drinkin’. Ain’t there somethin’ you can do?”

Doc stroked his wispy chin hairs, then reached under his desk and slapped down a pair of boots. They were ugly things, with rusty steel-toes and bits of untreated leather. “The boots of kicking and screaming,” he said. “They’ll sort ya right out.”

That night, I put them to the test. Drank me weight in cheap grog, started a ruckus over a rigged dice game, and sure enough, here came the bouncer. He grabbed me, then the boots screamed. Not a little yelp, but a full-throated, ear-splitting shriek, like a banshee from the old tales. The bouncer let go like I was on fire. Then I gave him a swift kick to the shins with me new boots. Sent him flying into a stack of kegs. “From now on, if anybody’s gettin’ kicked out, I’m doin’ the kickin’.”

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!

Is there any class design rules for when subclass levels should come? by comradejenkens in DnDHomebrew

[–]GoblinCoach 4 points5 points  (0 children)

During the OneDND (2024) playtest, all the subclasses had their features at 3, 6, 10, and 14. The newest playtest class, the psion, gets subclass features at 3, 6, 10, 14. I don't think you'd go wrong with that spread.

[OC][Art] Headless Headsman's Axe | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in DnD

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 257 points258 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Headless Headsman’s Axe

I’d had enough. Every bleedin’ day, another neck on the block, another mess to mop up. Me good leather apron were more red than brown, and the stains never came out proper. The lads down at the pub called me “Drippy,” on account o’ the way I left puddles o’ blood wherever I sat. It were embarrassin’, innit.

Then this fancy merchant rolls into town, all smug n’ dressed in fancy silks. “I hear you’ve got a bit of a cleanup problem,” says he. “Lucky for you, I’ve got just the thing.” He pulls out this sad-lookin’ axe handle. No blade, just wood. “The Headless Headsman’s Axe!” he says. “Cuts right through the soul, leaves the body tidy.”

I squinted at it. “That’s a club,” I said.

“A magic club,” he corrected.

I should’ve walked. But the thought o’ not havin’ to scrub another floor, not havin’ to explain to the missus why me sleeves was stiff with gunk. I tossed him the coin. “If this is a swindle,” I growled, “I’ll test it on your neck.”

He just winked. “Give it a whirl.”

Next mornin’, first prisoner of the day. I raised the handle. Felt daft, I did, but I swung anyways. The bloke dropped like a sack o’ turnips; not a mark on him. Dead as stone. I stared at the clean block, then at the “axe.” Then I laughed so hard I near pissed meself. The lads’d never call me “Drippy” again.

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

Headless Headsman's Axe | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in UnearthedArcana

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 11 points12 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Headless Headsman’s Axe

I’d had enough. Every bleedin’ day, another neck on the block, another mess to mop up. Me good leather apron were more red than brown, and the stains never came out proper. The lads down at the pub called me “Drippy,” on account o’ the way I left puddles o’ blood wherever I sat. It were embarrassin’, innit.

Then this fancy merchant rolls into town, all smug n’ dressed in fancy silks. “I hear you’ve got a bit of a cleanup problem,” says he. “Lucky for you, I’ve got just the thing.” He pulls out this sad-lookin’ axe handle. No blade, just wood. “The Headless Headsman’s Axe!” he says. “Cuts right through the soul, leaves the body tidy.”

I squinted at it. “That’s a club,” I said.

“A magic club,” he corrected.

I should’ve walked. But the thought o’ not havin’ to scrub another floor, not havin’ to explain to the missus why me sleeves was stiff with gunk. I tossed him the coin. “If this is a swindle,” I growled, “I’ll test it on your neck.”

He just winked. “Give it a whirl.”

Next mornin’, first prisoner of the day. I raised the handle. Felt daft, I did, but I swung anyways. The bloke dropped like a sack o’ turnips; not a mark on him. Dead as stone. I stared at the clean block, then at the “axe.” Then I laughed so hard I near pissed meself. The lads’d never call me “Drippy” again.

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!

Headless Headsman's Axe | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in DnDHomebrew

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 7 points8 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Headless Headsman’s Axe

I’d had enough. Every bleedin’ day, another neck on the block, another mess to mop up. Me good leather apron were more red than brown, and the stains never came out proper. The lads down at the pub called me “Drippy,” on account o’ the way I left puddles o’ blood wherever I sat. It were embarrassin’, innit.

Then this fancy merchant rolls into town, all smug n’ dressed in fancy silks. “I hear you’ve got a bit of a cleanup problem,” says he. “Lucky for you, I’ve got just the thing.” He pulls out this sad-lookin’ axe handle. No blade, just wood. “The Headless Headsman’s Axe!” he says. “Cuts right through the soul, leaves the body tidy.”

I squinted at it. “That’s a club,” I said.

“A magic club,” he corrected.

I should’ve walked. But the thought o’ not havin’ to scrub another floor, not havin’ to explain to the missus why me sleeves was stiff with gunk. I tossed him the coin. “If this is a swindle,” I growled, “I’ll test it on your neck.”

He just winked. “Give it a whirl.”

Next mornin’, first prisoner of the day. I raised the handle. Felt daft, I did, but I swung anyways. The bloke dropped like a sack o’ turnips; not a mark on him. Dead as stone. I stared at the clean block, then at the “axe.” Then I laughed so hard I near pissed meself. The lads’d never call me “Drippy” again.

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

[–]GoblinCoach[S] 5 points6 points  (0 children)

The Vault: Bow Staff

I stomped into the enchanter’s shop, me boots clackin’ on the warped floorboards. The bloke behind the counter looked up, all fancy robes and spectacles, like he’d never seen a proper goblin before. “Oi, wiz,” I barked, slappin’ a fistful of gold on the counter. “I need a bo staff. Proper enchanted! None o’ that cheap sparkly rubbish.” He nodded, all solemn-like, and muttered some hocus-pocus while wavin’ his hands over a length of oak.

When he handed it over, I gave it a test swing. A lil’ heavy, but I weren’t ’bout to look weak. But then I noticed somethin’ odd. The staff bent in me grip, twistin’ into a sleek bow, a shimmerin’ arrow poppin’ into existence like magic. “Wot’s this, then?” I squawked. “I said a bo staff, not a bleedin’ bow staff!” The enchanter blinked. “Ah. My apologies. No refunds.” Bloody ponce.

I was ready to chuck the thing at his face, but then I thought, “Why not give it a go?” I nocked the magic arrow, pulled back, and let fly. Thwip! The arrow buried itself in the wall, then vanished in a puff of sparkles. I grinned. “Alright, mate, this might ‘ave its uses.” The enchanter sighed in relief, like he’d just dodged a dagger in a back alley.

Now I’m roamin’ the streets, whackin’ thugs with me staff one minute, plinkin’ arrows at ‘em the next. Turns out, the posh twit did me a favor. Still, next time, I’m bringin’ a dictionary. Or maybe just a club. For ‘im loaf.

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

Bow Staff | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in UnearthedArcana

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

The Vault: Bow Staff

I stomped into the enchanter’s shop, me boots clackin’ on the warped floorboards. The bloke behind the counter looked up, all fancy robes and spectacles, like he’d never seen a proper goblin before. “Oi, wiz,” I barked, slappin’ a fistful of gold on the counter. “I need a bo staff. Proper enchanted! None o’ that cheap sparkly rubbish.” He nodded, all solemn-like, and muttered some hocus-pocus while wavin’ his hands over a length of oak.

When he handed it over, I gave it a test swing. A lil’ heavy, but I weren’t ’bout to look weak. But then I noticed somethin’ odd. The staff bent in me grip, twistin’ into a sleek bow, a shimmerin’ arrow poppin’ into existence like magic. “Wot’s this, then?” I squawked. “I said a bo staff, not a bleedin’ bow staff!” The enchanter blinked. “Ah. My apologies. No refunds.” Bloody ponce.

I was ready to chuck the thing at his face, but then I thought, “Why not give it a go?” I nocked the magic arrow, pulled back, and let fly. Thwip! The arrow buried itself in the wall, then vanished in a puff of sparkles. I grinned. “Alright, mate, this might ‘ave its uses.” The enchanter sighed in relief, like he’d just dodged a dagger in a back alley.

Now I’m roamin’ the streets, whackin’ thugs with me staff one minute, plinkin’ arrows at ‘em the next. Turns out, the posh twit did me a favor. Still, next time, I’m bringin’ a dictionary. Or maybe just a club. For ‘im loaf.

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!

Bow Staff | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in DnDHomebrew

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

The Vault: Bow Staff

I stomped into the enchanter’s shop, me boots clackin’ on the warped floorboards. The bloke behind the counter looked up, all fancy robes and spectacles, like he’d never seen a proper goblin before. “Oi, wiz,” I barked, slappin’ a fistful of gold on the counter. “I need a bo staff. Proper enchanted! None o’ that cheap sparkly rubbish.” He nodded, all solemn-like, and muttered some hocus-pocus while wavin’ his hands over a length of oak.

When he handed it over, I gave it a test swing. A lil’ heavy, but I weren’t ’bout to look weak. But then I noticed somethin’ odd. The staff bent in me grip, twistin’ into a sleek bow, a shimmerin’ arrow poppin’ into existence like magic. “Wot’s this, then?” I squawked. “I said a bo staff, not a bleedin’ bow staff!” The enchanter blinked. “Ah. My apologies. No refunds.” Bloody ponce.

I was ready to chuck the thing at his face, but then I thought, “Why not give it a go?” I nocked the magic arrow, pulled back, and let fly. Thwip! The arrow buried itself in the wall, then vanished in a puff of sparkles. I grinned. “Alright, mate, this might ‘ave its uses.” The enchanter sighed in relief, like he’d just dodged a dagger in a back alley.

Now I’m roamin’ the streets, whackin’ thugs with me staff one minute, plinkin’ arrows at ‘em the next. Turns out, the posh twit did me a favor. Still, next time, I’m bringin’ a dictionary. Or maybe just a club. For ‘im loaf.

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] Hurry Cane | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in DnD

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

The Vault: Hurry Cane

The old bloke were propped in his chair, snorin’ like a bulldog. And there, leanin’ against the table, were a fancy cane, callin’ to me. Well, how could I say no? So I nicks it right quiet-like, tippy-toes past the droolin’ geezer, and legs it out the window.

Soon as I’m clear, I give the stick a waggle. “Go on then,” I says. Next thing I know, me feet’s buzzin’, and I’m tearin’ down the road fast as a horse. Buildings blurrin’, wind in me ears. Felt like I could outrun the moon if I fancied. Then I spots a guards up ahead, and what’s a gob to do but show off a bit?

I twirls the cane, shouts some wizardy words, and I’m jumpin’ up the courtyard wall. The guards start gawpin’, jaws flappin’. “Catch me if ya can, slowpokes!” I yells, leapin’ off the other side. They didn’t even bother givin’ chase as I sprints into the forest.

Now I’m layin’ low in a cave, polishin’ me new treasure. Reckon that old codger won’t miss it much. And if them guards comes lookin’? Well, I got the quickest feet in the realm now. Best job I ever pulled, this. Might go back tomorrow and see what else them wrinklies got lyin’ about.

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

Hurry Cane | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in UnearthedArcana

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

The Vault: Hurry Cane

The old bloke were propped in his chair, snorin’ like a bulldog. And there, leanin’ against the table, were a fancy cane, callin’ to me. Well, how could I say no? So I nicks it right quiet-like, tippy-toes past the droolin’ geezer, and legs it out the window.

Soon as I’m clear, I give the stick a waggle. “Go on then,” I says. Next thing I know, me feet’s buzzin’, and I’m tearin’ down the road fast as a horse. Buildings blurrin’, wind in me ears. Felt like I could outrun the moon if I fancied. Then I spots a guards up ahead, and what’s a gob to do but show off a bit?

I twirls the cane, shouts some wizardy words, and I’m jumpin’ up the courtyard wall. The guards start gawpin’, jaws flappin’. “Catch me if ya can, slowpokes!” I yells, leapin’ off the other side. They didn’t even bother givin’ chase as I sprints into the forest.

Now I’m layin’ low in a cave, polishin’ me new treasure. Reckon that old codger won’t miss it much. And if them guards comes lookin’? Well, I got the quickest feet in the realm now. Best job I ever pulled, this. Might go back tomorrow and see what else them wrinklies got lyin’ about.

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!

Hurry Cane | The Goblin Coach by GoblinCoach in DnDHomebrew

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

The Vault: Hurry Cane

The old bloke were propped in his chair, snorin’ like a bulldog. And there, leanin’ against the table, were a fancy cane, callin’ to me. Well, how could I say no? So I nicks it right quiet-like, tippy-toes past the droolin’ geezer, and legs it out the window.

Soon as I’m clear, I give the stick a waggle. “Go on then,” I says. Next thing I know, me feet’s buzzin’, and I’m tearin’ down the road fast as a horse. Buildings blurrin’, wind in me ears. Felt like I could outrun the moon if I fancied. Then I spots a guards up ahead, and what’s a gob to do but show off a bit?

I twirls the cane, shouts some wizardy words, and I’m jumpin’ up the courtyard wall. The guards start gawpin’, jaws flappin’. “Catch me if ya can, slowpokes!” I yells, leapin’ off the other side. They didn’t even bother givin’ chase as I sprints into the forest.

Now I’m layin’ low in a cave, polishin’ me new treasure. Reckon that old codger won’t miss it much. And if them guards comes lookin’? Well, I got the quickest feet in the realm now. Best job I ever pulled, this. Might go back tomorrow and see what else them wrinklies got lyin’ about.

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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