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TheTick

Goblins had been causing trouble around Sandpoint for as long as the town existed, and now was no different.  Typically the five goblin tribes nearest to Sandpoint kept each other at bay with in-fighting and petty squabbles, and the citizens are quite happy to not worry about goblins on a day to day basis.  But things are changing again, as word of goblin attacks along the Lost Coast Road are beginning to disrupt trade.  The story goes that one of the goblin tribes, the Licktoad goblins, have managed to get a hold of some fireworks.  Normally the least dangerous tribe, the Licktoads have been emboldened by their discovery, and have been incorporating the explosives into raids along the road.  So far, they've only managed to spook some horses into overturning some carts, but the merchants who rely on the road are afraid that it's only a matter of time until they kill.

So it is not a complete surprise to the adventurers seated at the tables at the Rusty Dragon when Sheriff Hemlock walks in, and hammers a notice into place on the job board there.  After turning and seeing the questioning looks from the crowd, Hemlock says, "You may have heard stories about goblin attacks along the Lost Coast Road.  These stories are true.  We have increased patrols where we can, but the Sandpoint guard would be spread too thin if we did more.  Therefore, it is with some trepidation that the Mayor and I have decided to re-instate the goblin bounty program.  10 gold pieces for a fresh goblin ear, and 300 gold pieces for the head of Licktoad goblin Chief Gutwad."

Hemlock pauses for a moment to let that sink in. "The Licktoads are said to live in the Brinestump swamp, and it's no place to just tromp off to with your daddy's sword strapped on.  The vegetation is as dense and tangled as it can get, and we've no good maps of the region.  That's not even mentioning the snakes and other dangerous creatures.  Still, there are a few of you here trained by the best Sandpoint has to offer.  Perhaps some of you will answer this call...and manage to come back with all your limbs." He nods curtly and leaves to repeat the same process at the other taverns and inns.
Babies, chum: tiny, dimpled, fleshy mirrors of our us-ness, that we parents hurl into the future, like leathery footballs of hope. And you've got to get a good spiral on that baby, or evil will make an interception!