[hider=Gobskag Greenteef, Goblin Orkkultist]
[B]Username:[/B] Culluket

[b]Character Name:[/b] Gobskag Greenteef, also known as Gobskag Da Great (also known as Da Great Gobskag).  Pretty much everyone just shouts "GOBLIN!" at him, however.

[b]Race/Species:[/b] Goblin (Plains)

[b]Gender:[/b] Goblin (Plains)

[b]Age:[/b] More than three

[b]Career (if any) and Skills:[/b]
[i]Da Really Little Waaagh![/i] -- A petty Shaman, Gobskag has little to nothing in the way of damaging magic, dealing rather with hexes, disruptions, and dirty, underhanded tricks.  Like most goblins, he is allergic to (and useless in) direct combat, preferring to knife the enemy in the back, preferably while they're face down in the mud.  Underestimating him, however, has backfired before. Every greenskin has a level of base savagery in them, and Gobskag has more than one ace up his sleeve, wielding terrifying and lethal close-combat magicks such as Da Curse of Da Stabbed Froat: a dreadful hex cast with the sharpened end of a wooden, rune-carved wand.  Woe to the opponent who lets his guard down at close range, for the curse is swift and terrible.

Any beneficial magic he attempts to use will mysteriously fail to work on stunties, or those with a stronger-than-usual hatred of goblinkind.

[i]Alkhemy[/i] -- The fine art of potion brewing.  Might also be "poison brewing".  Or bomb-making.  Not knowing which it's going to be is da best bit.

[i]Cunnin' Planz[/i] -- Gobskag is loaded with cunning plans, some of which may actually be useful, and all of which involve tactics so dirty that just hearing them spoken aloud would make a Bretonnian throw himself on his sword.  He also has a sixth sense for when things are about to go belly-up, and has usually pulled a vanishing act by the time anyone else figures it out.


[b]Weapons:[/b] 
[i]Cursin' Stikk[/i] -- The requisite shaman's staff:  The twisted branch of some unnatural tree, topped with a carven Scary Face and hung with tufts of untreated animal skin and leftover chicken bones.  The end is sharpened and reinforced, so that the staff can double as a Stabby Stikk if the enemy is on the back foot and the Shaman smells an opportunity to get stuck in without excessive danger.

[i]Gougin' Knife[/i] -- Those magickal reagents aren't going to pluck out themselves.  Doubles as Treacherus Froatcutta when in proximity to turned backs.

[i]Hexplodin' Bombz[/i] -- Beneficial potions that didn't quite pass muster as being [i]actually[/i] beneficial.  Some of them explode in clouds of foul vapors, others, fulminous balls of crud.  What's important is, they're all dead magickal.  
Gobskag has learned not to prepare these too long in advance, as the hexes are liable to leak down his robes, explode ahead of schedule, or get absent-mindedly mistaken for a refreshing beverage.

[b]Attire:[/b]
Presently, Gobskag's orkkult robes consist of little more than a grotty, pointy-hooded sack crudely sewn together from differently-colored items of clothing looted from various battlefields, corpse-carts and unsuspecting merchants.  But as his grand new career unfolds, he plans to embellish his kit, a little at a time, with the finest magickal-lookin' bitz the enemy has to offer, and changes will be reflected here.

[b]Equipment/Other[/b] 
[i]Brewin' Bitz[/i] -- a small cauldron, a set of powders and some fire-makin' equipment, so that Reagents or concoctions can be prepared in camp, or in case he feels like cooking a rat.

[i]Magickal Reagents[/i] -- Gizzards, eyeballs, live vermin, pouches of anything that might pass for useful.

[b]Physical Description (as detailed as possible please, pictures not accepted.):[/b] 
Gobskag is a scrawny, hunched, shovel-nosed bastard, with furrowed, leathery skin the most unpleasant shade of puke green possible, and leering with a jagged grin of ugly, mismatched yellow teeth -- thus proving greenskins can't even get their names right.  Beady red eyes glint shrewdly under a shadowy flour-sack hood, and drooping bat-ears, ragged from various close calls and squig bites, flop gormlessly out of its sides.


[b]Mental Description/Personality:[/b] 
Gobskag is a typical goblin.  Which is to say he is a stupid, opportunistic, evil-minded coward possessed of an almost supernatural degree of low cunning.  He learned to play cards explicitly so he could learn how to cheat and only has respect for authority to the degree to which it can bribe, beat or intimidate him into line, which fortunately any good commander easily can.  Conversely, he is disgustingly obsequious to those with the upper hand, right up until the moment they're not watching anymore.  Dealing with him is a simple game of carrot and stick -- he's clever enough to know not to bite the hand that's thumping the other guy.  He'll kill more or less anyone, and doesn't particularly care what he gets paid in, as long as he has more of it than anybody else.

[b]Background/History:[/b]

[quote][i]"What's amazin' about 'umies is, dey is tuff but not as tuff as boyz, which is da same fing as bein' not tuff really if you fink about it, and on top of that dey is dead lazy. An' some of 'em fink they're supa important an' don't wanna get no oog on dere pretty dresses, sort o' like Elfs, who is even weaker'n humies but not as lazy.  So they'll pay youse to do dere fightin' for em.  But I ain't got to the best bit yet:  They'll even pay you ta fight uvva humies.  An' you still gets ta loot em when yer done!  Mork -- All dis time we wuz fightin' humies fer free!  Dats what is called a free market ekkonamy, see?  Oy!  I feels ashamed fer me old lads what nevva learned this stuff.  By which I means knob-'eaded gob-gits like you.  Now hold still -- to get da magicks right I gots ter gouge dem eyes out BEFORE I bashes yer skull in.  No 'ard feelins, eh?  Heenh heenh heeeeeeenhh..."[/i][/quote]

Gobskag was once a member of the Scarey Face tribe, a somewhat pathetic warren of goblins without much to distinguish it from the countless others infesting the Badlands, ruled by a Shaman known as Screamin' Mog.  The Scarey Face tribe had, in turn, quickly been absorbed into the swelling Black Bonez warband under Golg Grub-Mouth, a brutal orc marauder who took a special pleasure in plundering Empire trade routes.  

While this was dead great, as it got them stacks of loot and constant, invigorating skirmishes with the outraged border princes, the internal politics were precarious.  Golg Grub-Mouth was not a patient warlord, and Screaming Mog was a particularly vicious and paranoid shaman who regularly dispatched his underlings if his voices told him to.  ([i]His[/i] voices.  It really was just him talking to himself in a squeaky voice, and he didn't pretend otherwise.)   Gobskag was a bad position, even for a goblin.  If he made himself any more useful to the warlord, Screaming Mog would kill him.  If he didn't, the Orc or one of his seconds would almost certainly do it instead, and probably eat him afterwards.  

The solution came unexpectedly when he was discovered a good way outside camp in the dead of night, where he had absolutely not been doing nothing remotely nefarious, by a band of very serious, dangerous-looking mercenaries.  Gobskag was sure he was done for, and likely he would have been, had their commander not shrewdly proposed an alternative: Gobskag would be not only spared but [i]rewarded,[/i] if he betrayed the Black Bonez and aided in facilitating a surprise attack.  

Greed, treachery and the lure of revenge warred against the natural greenskin order of might makes right, and self-interest temporarily proved the stronger.  Gobskag agreed, and promptly betrayed the mercenaries to his tribe, who erupted into open combat.  

The mercenaries, being experienced dogs of war, had been ready for this, and a second company had flanked to the other entrance.  Gobskag then double-betrayed his tribe by opening the gates, then betrayed the mercenaries again (I's bottled 'em in over dere, boss!), and finally when the chips were down and the battle hung in the balance, triple-betrayed his tribe, giving the free companies the advantage they needed to hew them down to the last and finally slaughter Golg himself.

The mercenaries had taken the goblin's flip-flopping treachery in good humor, all things considered.  They laughed about it together, paid him his promised share, then tied him in a sack and threw it into the nearest bog.  

As he hauled himself onto the bank, having escaped his fate via a series of cunning plans and improbable coincidences, Gobskag experienced a number of epiphanies.  First of all, he was now [i]official[/i] Top Shaman of the Black Bonez tribe.  However, since he'd also just helped completely destroy said tribe, he unfortunately had nobody to brag to about it.  More importantly, more [i]magniffisently[/i], he'd had a glimpse of something amazing.  A whole world of possibility, that might just be everything a greedy, bloodthirsty, conniving little bastard like him might wish for.  A little fibbing, a little sneaking, a little stowing away, and Gobskag was on the fast track to the bottom of a whole new heap in grand Tilea.

While his unscrupulous nature is a hazard, commanders experienced in real, honorless, bloody battle know all too well the value of a good wildcard, and that's exactly what Gobskag is -- a loathesome surprise for the other side.  Greenskin magic, even the puny kind, is not something many foes expect or know how to deal with, and let's face it:  When the sides are deadlocked and conventional strategy fails... nobody cheats like a goblin.  

Having had a taste of what the world of the free companies can offer, he tends to view the greater mass of other goblins as primitive chumps, who wouldn't know a good thing if it stabbed them in the throat with a rune-carved wand.
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