After a 16-day bender, the Goblin Council of Elders has emerged from its chambers bleary-eyed and clutching its heads. The party, fueled by fermented beverages, questionable snacks and a large quantity of "nose nachos" (a goblin delicacy of powdered hallucinogenic mushrooms and doubtful hygiene), has emptied the national treasury and left citizens questioning their elected officials.
"We may have overindulged," slurred Elder Gnarltooth, still impaired by 16 days of mushroom haze. "But who can resist nose nachos and a good goblin rave? Besides, we deserved a break after all that tedious legislative work."
Critics say the elders' priorities are misplaced and that their behavior sets a poor example for the young.
On the question of the fifth seat, the Council has chosen to shrug. "Meh," said Elder Fungella, barely audible over the techno coming from the Groovy Grotto. "Let Parliament nominate someone. We'll decide later whether they're cool enough."
The answer has angered the public. Some goblins want the Council to resign. Others want fermented mushrooms regulated.
Parliament has accepted the invitation with enthusiasm. A free-for-all has broken out, with candidates from every walk of life, from cheese mongers and troll wranglers to aspiring necromancers and professional dungeon masters.
