[Goblin H-RP] <Flashbang Exports> Boomtastic!

Public Statement from Flywheel Mahoney (RP Hook)

Look pal, I know what ya thinking. What's the big deal about a few of Gallywix's goons shacking up in Orgrimmar? All them goblins want is moolah, moolah, moolah. Let me tell you something, before you go off crying to your mamma. It ain't true. Well, most of it isn't. See, thing is, we're here to trade. That's right. I, Flywheel Mahoney, and my fine crew from <Flashbang Exports> have got the goods, and you know you want them.

What? Don't go giving me that look. Ya want to blow up half a mountain and loot all the gold and gems inside? Look no further. We got all the dynamite you need. Truckloads of the stuff. Ya want fireworks in all sizes and colours? Check. Just the thing for your little sister's birthday bash. Oh and hey, and if you're just looking for some totally awesome radical boogey beats, we got them too. DJs, dancers, catering, drinks, Hors d'oeuvre with the little pastry cups - you name it, we got it. All for the right price. My price.

So what'dya say? Do we have ourselves a deal? Good. Just sign this 13-page contract on the dotted line, and we'll get things underway.

What's that? You lookin' for some work? Ya won't find better pay this side of Kezan. Mind you, we're only accepting true-blood goblins into our company. Nothing against those other Horde races, but I just can't trust 'em not to get greedy when they feast their eyes on my mountain of macaroons. You know what I'm saying? What goes in the family, stays in the family. Don't mix business with pleasure. Don't confuse the customers with the sla-, uh, I mean, workers.

There's perks. Did I mention the travel? <Flashbang Exports> is in demand all over Azeroth! No party is complete without our rockets and sparklers. Now stop giving me those buggy eyes and get to work. Ya think ya get rich just standing around looking pretty? Nope, Deathwing didn't think so either. Now, find me some customers! Hop to it skippy.

EDIT: Apologies, the forums overhaul has messed up the formating of this post showing the OOC details of our guild. Please scroll to post number 429 for the latest update.
With a flash and a bang we organised our first crazy event! This Sat 24 Feb 7:30pm. Link:

Come in your wackiest, most gaudy outfit you can find!
"Ears up, goblin guys and gals. I'm on the lookout for an Executive Assistant, Sassy Hardwrench style. Basically, ya just gotta man the office while I'm out on V.I.B.s. That's peak hours during the week whenever ya can. Ya don't have to do much, just sit around lookin' pretty and field any enquiry calls that come in. The occasional shout-out over the loudspeaker wouldn't hurt but I give ya a script for that so ya can go back to drinking ya coffee after. Unless ya fancy yourself an upcoming reporter for the Gadgetzan Rocket News, then ya can show off your creative skills. It's all good, pal.

"Anyway, back to the good stuff. Oh yeah, attire. A suit would be nice, if ya got one. Makes us look more professional so we can get the moolah sliding our way. On that note, ya pay scales with the guild, so the more greenskins we get singin' our tune, the happier you'll be. Ya remember that fangdangled kyparium skyrocket ya were eyein' up? Could be yours one day.

"Now, now. Form an orderly queue fellas. I can't get ya all through the door at once...that's my foot ya just squashed, OW!"

*V.I.B. = Very Important Business
Doctor Texsy Manacure walks into his office, taking off his earrings and closing "shop" for the night. He places a potion of red liquid (presumably healing liquid, but who knows?) into his knapsack, ready to nurse the injury he sustained while using an avalanche elixir off of Orgrimmar's skyway. He notices a letter left on the desk by Coggle, a leper gnome "employee" of his.

"Hm, what's this hullabaloo?"

He opens the letter, reading it over with a nice chug of his potion. In the middle of reading, his eyes alight. He spits out the red liquid on the ground. However, it is not because it was contaminated. It was out of excitement.

"Finally, I have a chance ta prove maself ta da rest of dose gobs! Executive Assisstant, get ready fa things ta get bigger! 'Cause everything's bigger in Texsy!"

Texsy chucks his potion in the garbage can and hurries home to write. Good thing too, the potion was a Great Rage Potion.
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Flywheel Mahoney looked over the applications, noting only one that was remotely legible (albeit slightly stained with a few drops of an unknown coloured liquid).

Upon reading the document, she promptly threw all the other pathetic applications in the rubbish bin. "This is it! This us the one we want."

Flywheel dialled up the goblin frequency on her radio device. "Hello? Is that Dr. Texsy Manacure? Ya got the job! You're my new Executive Assistant. Congratulations!"

There was a brief pause as Flywheel waited for this news to sink in.

"Right, so I have a list as long as ma arm here of work ya need to do, Let's start with uh...organising the filing cabinet!"
This guild seems to be.. blowing up!

If you'd ever like a Goblin vs Gnome rivalry/deathbattle, let me know.
If you came looking for dynamite, Raudel, you came to the right place. We got TONS of the stuff. I can cut you in for a deal if you don't immediately send in your crazy suicidal lepers. but that would be a complete backfire on an otherwise ornate plan.

However, it seems like you're looking more for a fight than a business deal. Well, FINE. We can be enemies, if that's the way you want it.

Just let me grab a bigger weapon. While I'm at it, a bigger army.

But we're coming for you, pipsqueak! I don't know quite why (yet), but I'll find a reason. I've seen you dancing around on our turf. Gadgetzan. Booty Bay. Those port cities are ours!

Bring it on!
Flywheel looked around the office. Dr. TexsyManacure. "Damn, coffee break AGAIN. It's lucky he keeps me entertained with a good sense of fashion."

Flywheel dumped a box of small mechanical devices on the enormous oakwood desk. She then started penning a note.

Please distribute these goblin radios A.S.A.P. Only to the greenskins, of course, and I'm not talking about orcs! Actually, scrub that. I don't want to offend the customers. Just be discreet about it, kay? We need to keep us the goblins in a safe place, away from Gallywix and his buffoons. So, even if they don't want to join Flashbang Exports, we still got their backs. Here's the frequency:
<The last part of the note is scrawled with fancy binary code.>

(( OOC: if you're a goblin and a roleplayer, please hang out with us! The channel is /join goblinrp ))
This looks very interesting! I'd wanna join, but I get pretty nervous for some reason when it comes to words and roleplay. I'm a huge goblin fan and I'm glad you're pushing forward in the realm of goblin roleplay! Good luck!
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Aw, Juniteal, don't be shy. We're just short and sweet (with sharp pointy teeth!)

Why don't you join our Discord instead? That way you can enjoy our goblin-love and it's mostly OOC so you don't have to worry about RP (until you're good and ready).


Hope ya see you there!
"What'dya mean you ain't got no chairs?!" Flywheel Mahoney looked around the circular room - which was partially underground in the sands of Tanaris - and wrinkled her nose with disdain. "Where do ya expect me ta sit, on the floor. I'm not short enough, now ya gotta rub it in?!"

She frowned at the Steamwheedle auctioneers in disappointment. "Fine. Fine! Damn mooks. Maybe ya don't mind standing around all day, but it just don't agree with my constitution. Ya'll all be out of a job one day, you'll see."

Flywheel turned to Wurtzix Copperpinch, who was dutifully holding Flywheel's white cloak. "Give me that!" she barked, snatching the garment and wrapping around her shoulders. She sat down on a small, uncomfortable ledge that led to the auctioneer's ramp, and began to scribble in her log book.

"Maybe I can find a stool somewhere," suggested Wurtzix, hurrying to meet the Boss lady's demands. Checking the Gatgetzan bank, the inn, and even the alchemy emporium, the goblin came back empty-handed. "Looks like we're out of luck," he declared with a shrug.

"Nevermind that. We got worse problems to deal with. A war is coming. Not just the gnomes - the humans, night elves, dwarves, worgen - even those weird spectre-looking things. What'd they call 'em? Oh yeah, void elves."
"But the goblins ARE coming out," Wurtzix protested, "I seen more of 'em shaking their coin purses than ever. Do ya reckon Trade Prince Gallywix let loose one of his slave ships?"

Flywheel shook her head. "Humph. Unlikely. But I gotta get myself together. Shake off the shades, and pool what resources we have."
"No offence, Fly, but ya have been a bit rattled lately. Maybe we DO need to have more of 'em pool parties. I ain't had a good boogie since that one at the Wyvern's Tail."
The female goblin sighed in exasperation and glared at him. "Ya did look pretty silly in that Santa hat, Wurt."

Wurtzix appeared smug, proud of his dancing skills. "A bit of the serious, a bit of the party, all balanced with a nice cold cup of kaja 'cola. Now THAT'S what I call a good goblin life."

(( Our guild is going great! Join us, as we prepare for bigger and better things! ))
We had a little mini-event at Bilgewater Harbor tonight. After an initial meet n' greet, Flywheel handed out cooking ingredient missions to everyone to complete over the week, in preparation for our goblin stall for the Feast of Seasons.

We managed to get NINE goblins together for the event, all in one place! (Not all are visible in the picture evidence, refunds not accepted.)

I tell ya, peeps. Goblins are all the rage at the moment. Roll one up today!
We now have a website! I've updated my original post. You can visit our website here:


It is far from complete, but things are definitely underway!

Also, our discord is very active, if anyone is looking for company.


Come one, come all (goblins especially!)
The Orc Pope blesses this guild. Quality gobbo.
Thanks Jimlok! *slyly slips him a six-pack of kaja-cola*
Dear Flashbang Exports,

You're dead.

Pride of Gnomeregan
Flywheel looked at Tixby's letter and scoffed. She screwed the piece of paper into a ball and tossed it over her shoulder for the cleaning lady to pick up, as it had landed a good 2ft from the rubbish bin.

"Pfft, such old news. I told the gnomes to bring it on, and what do I get? Not even one building blown up, nor even a robot cockroach package in the mail! Not even a glimpse of any of those over-calculated little twerps. To think, I was in their central bank only yesterday, and I walked out without a scratch! I definitely should have grabbed a few of their macaroons."

She sighed, and walked behind her desk to check out her agenda for the day. On it was a neat wooden clipboard (crafted from one of Felwood's tallest oaks), and attached to that was a crisp piece of non-recycled paper.

"Feast of Seasons is tonight!" the notice read, and it was signed by that impertinent blood elf, Mirchea Firehawk.
"Now here is something interesting!" Flywheel declared. "It's lucky we've been preparing for this all week. Fraxxi has been out collecting small flame sacs from innocent dragon whelps, Zuzza has been chopping up buzzards and crocolisks for their most mysterious meaty bits. We gotta get this dragonbreath chilli on the stove!"

She checked the time on her goblin-tinker-made watch. "I better go rustle up all the gobbos. It's party time!"
Dear Flashbang Exports,

I think we got your Kaja'Cola shipment on accident, we'll send you a crate of Gnomenbrau to make up for it.

Bombs and all,
Pride of Gnomeregan