Innverse Stats

Name	Text
Headscratcher	It was passing strange. A curious phenomenon. An odd thing. Headscratcher couldn’t describe it. He had been a warrior for six years, a Goblin’s lifetime. He had fought monsters far more terrible with his tribe, survived adventurer attacks and climbed the treacherous High Passes all his life. He had faced down great challenges with his tribe, following the back of his hero.
High Passes	It was passing strange. A curious phenomenon. An odd thing. Headscratcher couldn’t describe it. He had been a warrior for six years, a Goblin’s lifetime. He had fought monsters far more terrible with his tribe, survived adventurer attacks and climbed the treacherous High Passes all his life. He had faced down great challenges with his tribe, following the back of his hero.
Garen Redfang	Garen Redfang, a Goblin hero. And all his life Headscratcher thought he had known what strength was. He had leveled. He had become an elite among the strongest tribe of Goblins. Or so he had believed. But only now, over a hundred miles from his home, cut off from all but four of his fellow warriors, having lost his brothers in arms did he feel as though he was changing.
Headscratcher	Garen Redfang, a Goblin hero. And all his life Headscratcher thought he had known what strength was. He had leveled. He had become an elite among the strongest tribe of Goblins. Or so he had believed. But only now, over a hundred miles from his home, cut off from all but four of his fellow warriors, having lost his brothers in arms did he feel as though he was changing.
Headscratcher	Growing stronger. Headscratcher looked down at his hands. Large hands with jagged fingernails. Clean fingernails, though. Erin insisted he wash his hands before every meal. Absently he chewed at them. Yes, it was strange.
Erin Solstice	Growing stronger. Headscratcher looked down at his hands. Large hands with jagged fingernails. Clean fingernails, though. Erin insisted he wash his hands before every meal. Absently he chewed at them. Yes, it was strange.
Headscratcher	This inn was a soft place. Full of too much food, too much niceness and…and safety. It was not a place Headscratcher would train a warrior in. And yet, and yet—he felt stronger. Stronger than he had ever been in his life. For the first time in the seven years he had been alive, Headscratcher’s belly no longer rumbled when he slept. He, a Hob, was full and didn’t have to worry about what tonight’s meal would be or how much of it there would be.
Headscratcher	This inn was a soft place. Full of too much food, too much niceness and…and safety. It was not a place Headscratcher would train a warrior in. And yet, and yet—he felt stronger. Stronger than he had ever been in his life. For the first time in the seven years he had been alive, Headscratcher’s belly no longer rumbled when he slept. He, a Hob, was full and didn’t have to worry about what tonight’s meal would be or how much of it there would be.
Badarrow	And he had leveled. So had Badarrow, Numbtongue, Shorthilt, and Rabbiteater. They had leveled defending the inn, surviving all these cold months away from their tribe. They had become Hobs. And now, in this soft inn, Headscratcher felt something in him hovering on the brink of change.
Numbtongue	And he had leveled. So had Badarrow, Numbtongue, Shorthilt, and Rabbiteater. They had leveled defending the inn, surviving all these cold months away from their tribe. They had become Hobs. And now, in this soft inn, Headscratcher felt something in him hovering on the brink of change.
Shorthilt	And he had leveled. So had Badarrow, Numbtongue, Shorthilt, and Rabbiteater. They had leveled defending the inn, surviving all these cold months away from their tribe. They had become Hobs. And now, in this soft inn, Headscratcher felt something in him hovering on the brink of change.
Rabbiteater	And he had leveled. So had Badarrow, Numbtongue, Shorthilt, and Rabbiteater. They had leveled defending the inn, surviving all these cold months away from their tribe. They had become Hobs. And now, in this soft inn, Headscratcher felt something in him hovering on the brink of change.
Headscratcher	And he had leveled. So had Badarrow, Numbtongue, Shorthilt, and Rabbiteater. They had leveled defending the inn, surviving all these cold months away from their tribe. They had become Hobs. And now, in this soft inn, Headscratcher felt something in him hovering on the brink of change.
Erin Solstice	It felt like a gap in his chest. A wide, vast, mysterious feeling waiting to be set free. And his head! Sometimes it felt like Erin had cut the top off and exposed a new world to Headscratcher. A wonderful, strange, frightening, cruel, joyous world. Headscratcher stared at his hands and wondered what he would become. He was not afraid. He wanted to be more. To be like his hero. He wanted to protect his tribe, this inn—
Headscratcher	It felt like a gap in his chest. A wide, vast, mysterious feeling waiting to be set free. And his head! Sometimes it felt like Erin had cut the top off and exposed a new world to Headscratcher. A wonderful, strange, frightening, cruel, joyous world. Headscratcher stared at his hands and wondered what he would become. He was not afraid. He wanted to be more. To be like his hero. He wanted to protect his tribe, this inn—
Headscratcher	It felt like a gap in his chest. A wide, vast, mysterious feeling waiting to be set free. And his head! Sometimes it felt like Erin had cut the top off and exposed a new world to Headscratcher. A wonderful, strange, frightening, cruel, joyous world. Headscratcher stared at his hands and wondered what he would become. He was not afraid. He wanted to be more. To be like his hero. He wanted to protect his tribe, this inn—
Headscratcher	And his friends. Headscratcher looked up. Badarrow was lounging against a window, fiddling with his shortbow. It was small in his claws. Too small for the Hob he’d become. Next to him a box of bright yellow flowers bloomed. The [Archer] Goblin pretended to be staring out into the rain, but Headscratcher was sure that Badarrow was smelling and looking at the flowers.
Badarrow	And his friends. Headscratcher looked up. Badarrow was lounging against a window, fiddling with his shortbow. It was small in his claws. Too small for the Hob he’d become. Next to him a box of bright yellow flowers bloomed. The [Archer] Goblin pretended to be staring out into the rain, but Headscratcher was sure that Badarrow was smelling and looking at the flowers.
[Archer]	And his friends. Headscratcher looked up. Badarrow was lounging against a window, fiddling with his shortbow. It was small in his claws. Too small for the Hob he’d become. Next to him a box of bright yellow flowers bloomed. The [Archer] Goblin pretended to be staring out into the rain, but Headscratcher was sure that Badarrow was smelling and looking at the flowers.
Headscratcher	And his friends. Headscratcher looked up. Badarrow was lounging against a window, fiddling with his shortbow. It was small in his claws. Too small for the Hob he’d become. Next to him a box of bright yellow flowers bloomed. The [Archer] Goblin pretended to be staring out into the rain, but Headscratcher was sure that Badarrow was smelling and looking at the flowers.
Badarrow	And his friends. Headscratcher looked up. Badarrow was lounging against a window, fiddling with his shortbow. It was small in his claws. Too small for the Hob he’d become. Next to him a box of bright yellow flowers bloomed. The [Archer] Goblin pretended to be staring out into the rain, but Headscratcher was sure that Badarrow was smelling and looking at the flowers.
Headscratcher	The rasp of a stone moving down a blade’s edge made Headscratcher turn his attention to the Hob sitting across from him. Shorthilt was sharpening his blade, carefully maintaining the edge. He was engrossed in his work. It seemed as though he could sit there and maintain his weapon forever. It wasn’t in preparation for battle. It was just something the Goblin enjoyed doing in quiet.
Shorthilt	The rasp of a stone moving down a blade’s edge made Headscratcher turn his attention to the Hob sitting across from him. Shorthilt was sharpening his blade, carefully maintaining the edge. He was engrossed in his work. It seemed as though he could sit there and maintain his weapon forever. It wasn’t in preparation for battle. It was just something the Goblin enjoyed doing in quiet.
Headscratcher	Peaceful. That was a word Headscratcher had not known before coming here. He looked to his left, at Rabbiteater. The Hob wasn’t doing anything. He was sleeping at his table. Just sleeping. But he looked so content with that. Sleep was a luxury to Goblins. Rabbiteater’s ears twitched slightly as he dreamed without fear.
Rabbiteater	Peaceful. That was a word Headscratcher had not known before coming here. He looked to his left, at Rabbiteater. The Hob wasn’t doing anything. He was sleeping at his table. Just sleeping. But he looked so content with that. Sleep was a luxury to Goblins. Rabbiteater’s ears twitched slightly as he dreamed without fear.

Headscratcher

It was passing strange. A curious phenomenon. An odd thing. Headscratcher couldn’t describe it. He had been a warrior for six years, a Goblin’s lifetime. He had fought monsters far more terrible with his tribe, survived adventurer attacks and climbed the treacherous High Passes all his life. He had faced down great challenges with his tribe, following the back of his hero.

High Passes

It was passing strange. A curious phenomenon. An odd thing. Headscratcher couldn’t describe it. He had been a warrior for six years, a Goblin’s lifetime. He had fought monsters far more terrible with his tribe, survived adventurer attacks and climbed the treacherous High Passes all his life. He had faced down great challenges with his tribe, following the back of his hero.

Garen Redfang

Garen Redfang, a Goblin hero. And all his life Headscratcher thought he had known what strength was. He had leveled. He had become an elite among the strongest tribe of Goblins. Or so he had believed. But only now, over a hundred miles from his home, cut off from all but four of his fellow warriors, having lost his brothers in arms did he feel as though he was changing.

Headscratcher

Garen Redfang, a Goblin hero. And all his life Headscratcher thought he had known what strength was. He had leveled. He had become an elite among the strongest tribe of Goblins. Or so he had believed. But only now, over a hundred miles from his home, cut off from all but four of his fellow warriors, having lost his brothers in arms did he feel as though he was changing.

Headscratcher

Growing stronger. Headscratcher looked down at his hands. Large hands with jagged fingernails. Clean fingernails, though. Erin insisted he wash his hands before every meal. Absently he chewed at them. Yes, it was strange.

Erin Solstice

Growing stronger. Headscratcher looked down at his hands. Large hands with jagged fingernails. Clean fingernails, though. Erin insisted he wash his hands before every meal. Absently he chewed at them. Yes, it was strange.

Headscratcher

This inn was a soft place. Full of too much food, too much niceness and…and safety. It was not a place Headscratcher would train a warrior in. And yet, and yet—he felt stronger. Stronger than he had ever been in his life. For the first time in the seven years he had been alive, Headscratcher’s belly no longer rumbled when he slept. He, a Hob, was full and didn’t have to worry about what tonight’s meal would be or how much of it there would be.

Headscratcher

This inn was a soft place. Full of too much food, too much niceness and…and safety. It was not a place Headscratcher would train a warrior in. And yet, and yet—he felt stronger. Stronger than he had ever been in his life. For the first time in the seven years he had been alive, Headscratcher’s belly no longer rumbled when he slept. He, a Hob, was full and didn’t have to worry about what tonight’s meal would be or how much of it there would be.

Badarrow