Hobgoblin Dancing

Hobgoblins: I have no direct problem with hobgoblins. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve slaughtered more than a few in my time. One time in the Pomarj, I sneaked up on a hobgoblin hunting party while they were sleeping, gave them all the ol’ stabaroo, stole their gear and about 50 gps, so it is not like I am leading the Save the Hobgoblin parade, if there was such a thing. But as far as humanoids go, they aren’t so bad. You can at least carry on conversation with one; ever try to talk to a kobold? It is all “Food here, mate soon.” But I met a couple hobgoblins who knew all about the hidden history of Irongate or where a certain adventurer and his friends might find themselves a disreputable cleric to reanimate an unfortunate accident victim.

One other thing I like about hobgoblins: they dance. I am not a dancer personally; I like the horizontal mambo much more than shaking my chain mail as some half-elf plays the skins, but I can appreciate the art. I never would have guessed that our hobgoblin brethren loved to bust a move but I went to a racially mixed party one time in the Veluna Forest. Everyone was there, even a couple orcs boogied down. I got my mind blown by some saucy hobgoblin lady and her surprisingly skilled friend. Maybe it is the chaotic evil leaking into their usual lawful evil or the living in small tribes, but if I had to pick one monster to bring to an ass shaking party, it would be two hobgoblins. And a bunch of wine.

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