Grim-Faced Shieldwall of Gorbon
Gifter: Grirk of Gorbond
Rationale: Not my style, thank you very much. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer something you can get two hands around and really swing with.
Re-giftee: Srakeen the Shredder.
Treacherous, Scheming, Untrustworthy Lieutenant
Gifter: Lib the Mad
Rationale: Already got one.
Re-giftee: Lib the Mad. It’s not like he’ll remember giving it to me anyways. This is what, the fourth time?
A Pair of Inept Bungling Oafs Whose Loyalty is Only Exceeded by Their Stupidity and Capacity for Self-Destruction, complete with comically mismatched suits of armor
Gifter: Srakeen the Shredder
Rationale: Is she TRYING to get me killed? One is permissible, two is practically a death warrant for Nirtrazon himself. Besides, I already have Trulb. At least until I can find someone from a good home who wants him.
Re-giftee: Feed the Peasantry’s seasonal gift-box.
Peasant Child of Unknown Family With Secret Fire Smouldering in Her Eyes
Gifter: Trulb
Rationale: What exactly am I supposed to do with a fourteen-year-old? The only thing I hate more than kids is teenagers.
Re-giftee: Mong the Slavemaster. Maybe we can at least grind some labour out of the brat before it gets old and slow.
How To Escape Your Crumbling Stronghold, by Nol Oldlord
Gifter: Nol Oldlord
Rationale: Okay, explain to me this: who the darkhells is going to receive a seasonal gift implying that the gifter expects them to fail and fall like a bleating two-year-old goblin and be THANKFUL for it? Stupid old bat.
Re-giftee: Srakeen the Shredder. I think this one’s going to be making the rounds for a few years.
***
Capacious Darkplate
Gifter: Tordamore
Rationale: Doesn’t fit. I’m not entirely sure why people just go around ASSUMING that I’m a tub of lard, but this seems to happen far too often. The perils of spending most of your time either brooding in the shadows or sealed inside a big metal can, I suppose.
Re-giftee: Nol Oldlord. Two can play the gift-an-insult game, you self-important old prick.
A Handful of Blackened Ichor and Spittle
Gifter: Iz-Na!-Chlun!
Rationale: Seriously?
Re-giftee: Lib the Mad. He’ll probably eat it or something.
Tumultuous Ruin-mace, engraved with loving hands
Gifter: Mom
Rationale: In the name of all that is buried and foul, I have an image to maintain and that image does not include tiny puppies carved into obsidian.
Re-giftee: Trulb.
Giant Flogging-Whip
Gifter: Jormund the Tallest
Rationale: Ugh, ethnic gifts. Look, I don’t have anything against giants, I just don’t really care for their instruments of torture. They’re loud and clumsy and make no sense. Leave the giant implements of pain to the giants, leave the evil overlord implements of pain to me. Everyone’s happiest that way.
Re-giftee: Mom. I know she gets a kick out of this stuff. Wish Dad was still around to tell me why.
Tracking Dragon-Dogs
Gifter: The city of Backlebroad
Rationale: Couldn’t find a stupid escaped teenager, what CAN they find? Half their body weight at that age is smelly hormones and acne! A waste to feed them.
Re-giftee: Feed the Peasantry’s seasonal gift-box.
***
Seven-Hundred-and-Forty-Seven Pages of Scribbled, Crumpled Rantings on Bloodstained Parchment, in No Particular Order
Gifter: Lib the Mad
Rationale: Maybe I shouldn’t have sent him that ichor.
Re-giftee: Trulb. He’s been whining about running out of toilet paper for weeks now.
Giant and Unstoppable Doomaconda with Hypnotizing Eyes and an Eighteen-Syllable Name I Cannot Pronounce
Gifter: Oll the Serpent
Rationale: I can’t say it, I can’t spell it, and I don’t need it. Cold-blooded or no, that thing eats too much. Besides, the castle’s already heavily guarded. What more could I want?
Re-giftee: Mom. She’s been wanting a new pet for a while now, since CHRGHTM descended back to the lowest darkhell.
Towering Parapet
Gifter: Tordamore
Rationale: This fortress is tall enough already, I’m tall enough already, and if we improve on either of those things I’ll start to get dizzy. Besides, traditionally parapets are for brooding on, and I’m not that kind of tyrant.
Re-giftee: Jormund the Tallest. Maybe giants like this sort of thing.
Love Interest
Gifter: Mom
Rationale: Here’s a little bit about me: I am seventeen feet tall, completely sociopathic and happy that way, covered in spiky armour, shed hate and flame from every single inch of my steely hide, and am entirely lacking in genitalia. This tremulous little twerp is as useful to me as tits on a boar.
Re-giftee: ??? I already gave Srakeen a new dishwasher this year, and that’s about the heaviest labour I can see this waste of space doing. Might as well shut it in a tower until I figure out what to do about it.
Creaking and Ominous Graveyard, With Grandiose Mausoleum
Gifter: Nol Oldlord
Rationale: I prefer my victims burnt, and I will leave behind no physical corpse. Besides, I’m going to live forever.
Re-giftee: Nol Oldlord. Take a hint, wheezing dotard.
***
Giant Catapult
Gifter: Jormund the Tallest
Rationale: Worked for one hour, then destroyed by daring midnight raid.
Re-giftee: Dumpster.
Impenetrable Wall-Plating, Hand-Knitted
Gifter: Mom
Rationale: Penetrated.
Re-giftee: Dumpster.
Wailing Doom-Brigade of Chanting Maniacs
Gifter: Iz-Na!-Chlun!
Rationale: Read one augury, committed mass suicide without permission, formed convenient ramp across flarewater moat.
Re-giftee: Feed the Peasantry’s seasonal gift-box.
Trulb’s Heart
Gifter: Trulb
Rationale: It seemed really satisfying to tear it out at the time, but in retrospect he was the last lackey in the fortress.
Re-giftee: Whoever’s standing outside my window at this second.
How To Escape Your Crumbling Stronghold, by Nol Oldlord (used)
Gifter: Grirk of Gorbond
Rationale: Last chapter is missing.
Re-giftee: Fuck my fucking li