He's going to be impossible to live with now, you realize.
A day in the life of a Goblin Smithy and his adventures through Vana'diel. He'll laugh, he'll cry, he'll get stabbed to death by six people... It's a metaphor really. For getting stabbed. A lot.
Unfortunately, after my "voluntary parole", the prison guards had cracked down pretty hard. Everything pointy had been confiscated.
They even took my subligar.
Now, I really doubt I would have tried to murder a guard with my groin, but I have to give the guys props for planning ahead. Even I do not know the full depths of my murderous rage and it is entirely possible I may have resorted to the Tea Bagging of DOOM!
Guard>> C'mon, Smithy.
Guard>> Give me your best shot!
GoblinSmithy>> That's what your wife said.
Guard>> What are you...
Guard>> STOP RAPING MY FACE!!!
GoblinSmithy>> Your wife said that, too.
Yeah, I don't think I'd go that far right now, but after a couple of days sharing a cell with Pathfinder, I'm getting there.
I caught him watching me sleeping last night. I woke up in the middle of the night and he was just standing there watching me.
GoblinSmithy>> What are you doing?
GoblinPathfinder>> Just watching you sleep.
GoblinSmithy>> That's not nothing.
GoblinSmithy>> That's something.
GoblinSmithy>> Something creepy.
GoblinPathfinder>> It's not creepy.
GoblinSmithy>> Yes, it is.
GoblinSmithy>> Stop watching me.
GoblinPathfinder>> Can you tell me a story?
GoblinSmithy>> There once was a guy named Pathfinder.
GoblinSmithy>> Then one day he got stabbed in the face.
GoblinPathfinder>> I'm going to sleep now.
GoblinSmithy>> I thought so.
GoblinPathfinder>> Night, Smithy.
GoblinSmithy>> Yeah, yeah.
GoblinSmithy>> Shut the hell up.
Do you know how hard it is to get back to sleep after that?
REAL DAMN HARD!
Maybe if I had my subligar to defend against a sudden (( Sneak Attack ))...
I really need to get out of here.
I mean, who's controlling the adventurer population while I'm in here?
The jungles are no doubt anarchy by now, n00bs running free and unstabbed.
Just thinking about it sickens me.
Tonight will be the escape.
I've managed to fashion a make shift weapon using some paper clips and a rubber band.
When it comes to making weapons, I could make MacGuyver look retarded.
I also managed to put together a good group of guys to pull this off. I’ve got demons for brute muscle, a few yagudos for their speed, and a handful of orcs just in case we need something to stand between us and gunfire.
Things are looking good.
This had better work.
It’ll be horribly ironic if I went through all of this trouble just to end up murdering Pathfinder for being retarded.
I really deserve sainthood for this.
Well… Maybe if it weren’t for all of the killing. They tend to frown on that.
Congratulations. By helping support my blog, you have enabled yourself to join my extremely exclusive fan club.
You so love me.
As a bonus, you have also received this special gift pack, my way of saying I appreciate the support.
Also, it’s my way of saying I appreciate your constant willingness to get stabbed by me. If it weren’t for you soft, pudgy flesh-bags, I wouldn’t have a job.
And that would mean spending time with my wife.
Seriously. Thank you.
Now, many of you are no doubt wondering how I got this job. Even if you don’t, I’m going to pretend that you do as it makes for an easy transition into the story.
I actually started out as an Adventurer.
I know, I know. A Goblin Adventurer?!
We like to adventure, too, you know. Damned racist.
Or shut the hell up.
Sweet Altana, how I loved Adventuring. Spending my days exploring the frozen tundra of Quifim, walking through the ruins of Garlaige Citadel, making my way through the hidden depths of the Crawler’s Nest.
Note to self: Why did I like it again?
Things weren’t exactly easy for me. Believe it or not, people had a hard time accepting a Goblin in their party.
I got less invites than a Dragoon.
I mean, damn.
So, like many, I took up crafting. Pretty soon, I was burning through the levels and finally decided to call myself Goblin Smithy.
Plus, it enabled me to actually make my own armor. This has come in extremely handy as nowadays people like to poke holes in it with pointy objects.
I do wish I had taken the time to learn how to make a subligar without a giant point at the front.
Believe me, I’m not that happy to see you.
Now, you’re probably thinking that months of crafting with very few party invites caused me to withdraw and become aggressive. That it was probably a long, slow process.
Not so much.
It was actually one party that pushed me over the edge.
Picture it. I was a fresh, young goblin trying to make his way as a Warrior. I had abandoned the White Mage sub of my youth and was studying the subtleties of the job class.
Plus, Berserk freakin’ rocked.
I was in your normal Yhoator Jungle party trying desperately to hot level 30, so I could unlock the advanced job quests.
I had dreams once of becoming a Paladin. Ironic, considering I spend most of my days pounding Paladins’ faces through the back of their helmets.
So, everything was going normal. We were getting good exp and I was almost there.
I could taste that new job.
Then the White Mage had to leave. He made some excuse about needing his insulin or something.
Fortunately, or so we thought at the time, another White Mage was seeking in Kazham and we were able to pick up a replacement right away.
He showed up to camp and right away, I was a little worried about him.
I’m not sure if it was his demeanor. Or maybe the dull look in his eye.
Or maybe the fact that he wasn’t wearing pants.
GoblinSmithy>> Why aren’t you wearing pants?
WhiteMage>> I’m a white mage.
GoblinSmithy>> And pants are against the White Mage code or something?
GoblinSmithy>> The groin coverage would interfere with your ability to cure?
WhiteMage>> Pants aren’t a big deal.
WhiteMage>> I don’t need pants to do my job.
GoblinSmithy>> I doubt many people need pants to do their job.
GoblinSmithy>> But everyone should still have pants.
GoblinSmithy>> Pants are civilization.
WhiteMage>> Whatever, man.
WhiteMage>> You’re not a white mage.
Now, I could have kept going there, but I didn’t. I was too close to 30 to start a fight and mess this up now.
I decided to suffer the moron.
So, we start fighting and things are going okay. Not as good as before, but I was not really surprised.
Level 30 was getting closer, though, so I was content.
And then it happened.
WhiteMage>> Smithy, you idiot!
WhiteMage>> Stop provoking!
GoblinSmithy>> I’m the back up tank.
GoblinSmithy>> I need to provoke so the Ninja can get his shadows up.
WhiteMage>> I’m wasting mp trying to cure you.
GoblinSmithy>> No. You’re using your mp to cure me.
GoblinSmithy>> If you don’t, you’re going to waste mp trying to raise us all.
WhiteMage>> Listen, n00b. I know how this works.
WhiteMage>> I have a level 47 Dark Knight.
GoblinSmithy>> I’m sure that experience comes in handy as a White Mage!
WhiteMage>> Man, you’re stupid.
WhiteMage>> You don’t even know how to play.
Why is it always the worst person in the party that starts telling people they don’t know how to play?
They’re always the first person to start handing out criticism and laying blame for poor exp.
Funny, they’re usually (read: almost always) the reason, too.
Isn’t that weird?
GoblinSmithy>> Okay, I’m going to explain this very slowly.
GoblinSmithy>> Ninja use shadows, he no die.
GoblinSmithy>> He lose shadows, he die.
GoblinSmithy>> He die, we die.
GoblinSmithy>> Are you following so far?
WhiteMage>> Shut up, moron.
GoblinSmithy>> Good. You’re keeping up.
GoblinSmithy>> Though a “yes, continue please” will suffice.
WhiteMage>> Bite me.
GoblinSmithy>> We die is bad. Very, very bad.
GoblinSmithy>> We no want die.
WhiteMage>> Just shut the hell up.
GoblinSmithy>> I provoke, Ninja keep shadow, we no die.
GoblinSmithy>> We no die, YAY!
GoblinSmithy>> You no cure, me die, Ninja die, you die.
GoblinSmithy>> Though that last part doesn’t exactly bother me.
WhiteMage>> Damn, you’re such a n00b.
WhiteMage>> Just do your damned job.
GoblinSmithy>> Why don’t you try doing yours?
We grudgingly move on to the next mob. We’re tearing through that mandragora like there’s no tomorrow. The Ninja gets low on shadows, so I provoke.
I’m getting hit pretty hard when I notice that my health is dropping fast.
And the White Mage isn’t curing me.
GoblinSmithy>> What the hell are you doing?
WhiteMage>> Teaching you a lesson.
It was tough, but we made it through okay. There were a couple of close calls, but the Black Mage managed to keep us going.
And then he said it.
WhiteMage>> I hope you learned something.
The rest is a bit of a blur after that. I remember screaming and then beating the White Mage to death with his own shoes. Hours later, I woke up covered in blood and feeling better that ever before. And that’s when I made a new “friend”.
GoblinShaman>> Nice work. Want a job?