This guide is complete and unabridged, with slight modifications to help the uninitiated better understand our ways.
The author of this work, Folodu Amrunrosse, has gone to great lengths to ensure this is factual in all parts, except the time when the goblins actually did something right. All named for that incident have been changed because we were not actually there for it, and had to make something up. All mentions of people either living or dead are most likely true recountings, unless they aren't. Reader discretion is advised on page two.
In order to best serve our great God, we must first have several key components arranged. These include, but by are no means limited to:
- a bottle of Halasian Whiskey which shall from here on be called Communal;
- a firestarter, preferably in mage-form;
- a sacrificial goat;
- one frozen trout, thawed;
- one set dice, loaded;
- Hat of Officiation;
- Gavel of Forewarning.
In to begin, you must get your fellowship, assuming you have one, together, preferably with some prior notice. It must be noted that the group must decide on who will arrive last, and ensure that they have been given not only the wrong directions but also the wrong time. Giving the wrong day is just bad form.
When the last person arrives, they are required to pull a prank on the first arriving member - the group cannot assist pointing out who that is, lest the skill of the last be called into question. The prank must be pulled off during some point in the meeting.
The first order of business is to read the Minutes, but no one ever listens and the waterclock has been acting up lately anyways. Since Step One must always be missed, we must proceed on to Step Three, the sharing of the Communal Whiskey.
Once everyone has had a glass of whiskey, except for Farmer Bijot who has started drinking at dawn again, the group shares the recent pranks they have done. Sound effects and props are not necessary, but are appreciated.
The Fourth Order of Business is the passing of the Collection Plate. It is generally accepted that everyone will try the usual theft, but there are times when someone has an idea to share, such as stealing the theft from the neighbor preceeding them. It is considered bad manners to steal the collection plate itself. So far, Friggle Raxxiton has the record of stealing the collection-plate-bearer, who has not been seen since. When asked, Friggle only smiles like a fox. On incidents like this, the Communal Whiskey is passed around in congratulations.
The next order of business is Step Two: sharing the whiskey, which by now is fairly communal. From this point, the meetings tend to devolve into either hysterics or stories. It is considered ill mannered to not egg the other members on. At this point, weapons are confiscated and fighting is prohibited - not like anyone listens anyways. When everyone calms down, the Officiant releases the sacrificial goat, no one really recalling why it was brought in the first place. Plans are made for the Next Big Prank. These are usually forgotten in the after-meeting torpor and nap.
Since there has not been a Secretary or Writing Utensil brought since the disaster when the ink got spilled, everyone tries to commit the Minutes from the meeting to memory. Another round is shared communally and the meeting is adjourned, usually to be completed in the street when the Militia tends to arrest the members for being drunk in public - also, naked. In Lucan's fountain.
The goblin tribes have long been a bane to our cause, many times interfering, or worse - copying (in poor approximation), with our Great Prank. However, there has been some occasions to note in which they have managed to get things quite right.
The aforementioned anecdote is not to be construed as a consistent truth, nor an exception to prove anything, much less a rule. The following tale is mostly true, provided we were drunk through half of it and our recollection is not necessarily accurate to all details.
One fine week when the weather was particularly fair, the Gigglegibber Goblin tribe decided they were going to prank the notorious Misty Isle Mister - a halfling of some repute among certain circles. They began with something relatively harmless pie-making, supposedly in response to a Gifted Ginger Pie. These claims are false misinformations and hear-say based on no facts in reality and should be studiously ignored.
However, the pie they attempted to prank with was quite atrocious: mud and wasp guts burned over an open fire. The Mister was, dare I say, unimpressed. We concocted the plan to return the pie, which the Gigglegibber ate greedily. It was revolting.
In retaliation to this failed prank, the Mister developed a scheme to weasel some the the gambing goblin’s money away from their horde. We replaced real gold coins with gold-foil wrapped coins. The goblins, unfortunately, did not get it, and took it as a peace offering. The goblins planned and plotted. I returned a week later.
The goblins planned to trick the local pie-maker out of her pies. They gave me a sack of coins and told me to make the pie-maker leave her stall. She adamantly refused, and so I was sent to gather a trinket from the Loping Plains. When presented with the trinket, she departed to give it to Fizzlethorpe. I took the pie and replaced it with coins.
The pie shop, I would like to note, was failing and the family starving. This deed saved both shop and proprietor. The goblins could not understand that the non-eatable coins were more valuable than the eatable gold coins. This is so far the only known incident where the goblins have managed to do something right while at the same time Not Getting It and Having No Clue What To Do.
We passed the Communal, no longer remembering what was in it, and all was good.
There has been only a single incident where someone wanted to recant their religion and follow a new path. This is not for the faint of heart, and requires enough reserves in the Gigglegibber storehouse to last a half-hour, maybe fifteen minutes tops. The Ultimate Prank must be pulled off at the same time as a heist and a stand-up routine. I warn you now, dear Prankster, that the following might result in death, or worse.
The Ultimate Prank involves faking one’s own death, having a funeral, and stealing a bottle of whiskey during your own wake. The goblins keep no schedules, and so trying to hold them to using their cave to be closer to their storehouse is nigh-impossible. Doing all of this and holding a stand-up comedy routine requires the Skill of Fizzlethorpe Himself. I would go into detail on how the one ex-pranker managed it all, but it has been considered Anathema to Speak Of It.
For safety, you should now burn this book. All copies and notes must, of course, be stored away from fire, unless you are in need of fuel for winter, in which case have at.
Alternately, you might consider a not-rare form of worship by building a Rube-Goldberg machine meant to fill the glass of everyone present during the course of operation. Do not expect to get anything else done.