In the sprawling world of fantasy, where dungeons rumble and dragons soar, few names stir as much curiosity or confusion-as—Blorbo the Shrewd. Known across the Five Fractured Kingdoms as a miserly merchant, a cunning collector, and a sometime-sorcerer with questionable morals, Blorbo has recently issued a request as strange as his reputation: “Bring me 25 hobgoblin hides, and ye shall be rewarded.”
Thus begins a curious tale of adventurers, ambition, and a peculiar economy where goblin skin is more valuable than gold, at least to one eccentric gnome.
Chapter 1: Who Is Blorbo the Shrewd?
Blorbo the Shrewd is a gnome of uncertain origin and even murkier intentions. Standing at just over three feet tall, with a nose that has seen more curses than a cursed well, Blorbo’s reputation spans continents. He is a trader of oddities, a buyer of strange things, and the last person you want to owe money to.
What sets him apart isn’t just his wit or his heavily trapped shop outside the city of Windermere. It’s his unrelenting hunger for unusual materials. Dragon scales? Child’s play. Basilisk bile? Too pedestrian. No, what Blorbo wants—nay, demands—are 25 hobgoblin hides, fresh and well-preserved.
When asked why, he merely grins and mutters something about “projected tensile strength” and “arcane conductivity.” Most adventurers don’t ask further.
Chapter 2: The Worth of a Hobgoblin Hide
To the uninitiated, hobgoblins are a militaristic and intelligent subrace of goblinoids—larger than their goblin cousins, more organized than bugbears, and often the bane of borderland settlements. Their hide is tough, leathery, and often stinks of iron and old sweat. It’s not the kind of thing anyone would expect a merchant to desire—unless that merchant is Blorbo.
Rumors suggest Blorbo is crafting armor that resists mental intrusion. Others say he’s building a tapestry of cursed souls, and hobgoblin hides are essential for the spellwork. Still others think he’s just making a tent. One adventurer swore they saw a hobgoblin-hide hammock swinging in Blorbo’s backroom, though it later disappeared under mysterious circumstances.
Chapter 3: The Adventurers Who Answered the Call
When Blorbo’s call went out—scrawled in wine-stained parchment and tacked to every job board from the Frosted Vale to the Southern Wastes—dozens answered.
1. Sindra the Silent
A rogue of questionable loyalty and unquestionable talent. Sindra believed the hides were the key to infiltrating the Crimson Guild and Blorbo merely a puppet in a larger scheme. She gathered ten hides before vanishing into the night, never to be seen again.
2. Torrik Stonebone
A dwarven paladin with a dislike for anything goblinoid and an even greater dislike for merchants with vague requests. He brought seven hides after personally smiting a warband of hobgoblin scouts, only to throw them at Blorbo’s feet and storm off, shouting, “Never again!”
3. Milo and Minty
A halfling duo known for their uncanny luck and borderline irresponsible magic use. They claimed to have grown hobgoblin hides from enchanted cabbages. Blorbo inspected them, frowned, and used them as doormats. Still, he paid them in enchanted dice.
Other adventurers brought partial hides, burnt remnants, or entire hobgoblins still alive. Blorbo rejected all with the same answer: “Twenty-five hides. Tanned. Stretched. Labeled by kill site. No substitutions.”
Chapter 4: The Darker Side of the Request
As time went on, more began to question the morality of this quest. Were hobgoblins not sentient beings? Was this mass extermination truly justified? Clerics and scholars debated furiously in taverns and temples. Some said Blorbo was encouraging unnecessary violence. Others claimed it was an ancient rite, part of a larger ritual to cleanse the land of evil.
A few conspiracy theorists believed Blorbo was a hobgoblin himself in disguise, using the hides to build an army of flesh golems. A particularly dramatic bard penned the song “The Blorbo Skinner’s March,” banned in three kingdoms for inciting riotous laughter and uncomfortable questions.
Chapter 5: The One Who Succeeded
It was not a grand knight or seasoned ranger who fulfilled Blorbo’s request, but a young, acne-scarred wizard-in-training named Filbert Drench. Barely out of the Arcane Academy and nearly broke, Filbert took the quest with naive enthusiasm.
Armed with only a spellbook, a talking toad familiar named Pibble, and a disturbingly detailed anatomical chart of goblinoids, Filbert trekked into the Hobfields—a region crawling with hobgoblin platoons. Using spells of illusion, sleep, and good old-fashioned running away, he managed to collect hide after hide.
Weeks passed. Filbert returned, half-starved, robes in tatters, but triumphant. Twenty-five hobgoblin hides, each treated and labeled meticulously.
Blorbo said nothing. He merely nodded, opened a trapdoor, and tossed Filbert a glowing satchel.
Inside were
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A cloak of unerring aim (crafted from hobgoblin ears)
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A wand of unsettling whispers
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A signed portrait of Blorbo himself, winking
Filbert took the rewards, blinked twice, and left Windmere without a word.
Chapter 6: What Did Blorbo Do With the Hides?
That’s the question, isn’t it?
One theory suggests Blorbo used the hides to insulate an interdimensional portal hidden beneath his shop — a gateway that only responds to goblinoid residue. Another rumor posits he was trying to assemble a mimic-disguised throne, needing hobgoblin hides for their rare resistance to psychic damage.
A less exciting possibility is that he sold them to the Royal Tanners’ Guild for a tidy profit. But given Blorbo’s flair for the mysterious, few believe such a mundane answer.
Regardless, the job was closed, the reward given, and the signs were taken down.
Chapter 7: Legacy of the Quest
Even now, months after the hides were delivered, adventurers talk about it. “Bring Blorbo the Shrewd 25 Hobgoblin Hides” became a meme among mercenaries, a punchline in inns, and a campfire tale in training barracks.
Some say Blorbo will return with another bizarre request—maybe “fetch me 13 banshee tears” or “harvest a yeti’s sneeze.” Others think he’s already moved on to another dimension, still wearing his hobgoblin-hide slippers and sipping ghostroot tea.
But one thing remains certain: no one forgets Blorbo.
And somewhere, in the leather-lined walls of his hidden vault, a plaque reads:
“To Filbert Drench — first of the hidebringers.”
Final Thoughts
“Bring Blorbo the Shrewd 25 Hobgoblin Hides” may seem like a simple fetch quest to the untrained eye, but to those who took it seriously—and even those who didn’t—it became a tale of perseverance, eccentricity, and the bizarre motivations of those who dwell on the fringes of the known world.
