The morning after the attack was a loud one, not only because of the amount of loot to be divided but also because it was one of the largest gatherings of goblins in these parts of Eberon to be seen in decades. Goblins for the most part were nomadic by nature and formed into roaming clans and tribes separated from one another apart from the odd skirmish as one infringed upon the other’s territory. That was not to say that the disparate goblin tribes hated each other, only that they tended not to work together. Goblins require a strong leading hand, a force that will point in a single right direction, most goblin cooperation, however, resulted in every tribe leader trying a different plan. There have been times in history where goblins have crowned kings among their own folk, yet that era has long since been buried in the sands of time. the leaders of great goblin hordes were not of goblin descent, most Dark Lords throughout the years had amassed a goblin army for themselves. Goblins were also often found to be led by greater greenskins such as orcs and ogres although they themselves were often directed by Dark Lord.

Zalrodal’s green horde consisted of 124 members unless some of them had died since they returned from the raid which wouldn’t have been surprising. Zalrodal had divided the loot evenly in sixth parts, one-sixth for each of the five goblin clans and one for himself. The time for great greed in which every tribe would give their resources to Zalrodal personally would come but for now, it was valuable to keep the goblins happy and engaged with his ideas.

He stood up in the command tent that had been erected for himself, it was a shoddy thing of old leather and whatever cloth the goblins stole from the village, it was still imposing enough to the goblins sleeping on the ground to remind them that there was a leader among them. Zalrodal reached for his clothes, Guglak had brought him additional clothing from the village which he could wear below the black tattered cloak he usually wore. The brown breeches and white tunic were not intimidating sets of apparel but it would do for the moment. He grabbed the long axe from the night before hurled it onto his shoulders and stepped out into the camp.

As the large axe-wielding figure pushed apart the tent flaps the camp fell silent if only for a moment of acknowledgement. It was clear to the goblins that they had a new leader, a leader that had brought them greater treasure in one night than months of ambushes on the odd peasant. Goblins tended to be sneaky and rather weak but there was a strength in numbers and organisation. The truth of this mostly fell flat on their pointy ears, why would one goblin know better about goblin business than themselves? This was the most common thought process. However, they seemed to listen to others, people stronger than them, people with better arts of persuasion, people that brought them treasures. At the end of the day, treasure was all that mattered.

He walked over to the central campfire, the goblins around him clearing the path and stepping away from his leaving the fireplace alone for their new master’s use. On the fire, there were no more rats and rodents found in caves but proper meat, cattle that had been carried off in their raid. He grabbed some of the meat and started eating wondering what he should do next. At this point, Guglak, his most loyal of servants, arrived. The tall goblin came bearing a large flagon of some sort of drink and had a drinking horn clutched against the flagon with his fingertips. He arrived in front of Zalrodal and handed him the horn, careful not to drop the flagon. “I have a drink for Master, yez. Not goblin dlud but humanz ale,” Guglak said as he began pouring a glass of golden ale. Most goblins could not appreciate a good drink and preferred to drink dlud, Zalrodal was still not completely sure what was in it but it wasn’t appetising.

He tried the ale first in a small sip and upon proving its quality over anything he had drunk in a while, gulped down the rest in a single go and held out the horn to be refilled. He continued thinking about what he should do, looting small villages in the night was all well and good but before trying anything larger he needed a base of operations. Something better than an improvised tent in the middle of a forest. He needed a fortified position to hide his loot from anyone who would come after it. Now that he had gathered a substantial force he wanted to expand, there was an abandoned castle located at the northernmost part of the forest raised slightly upon a segment of a mountain. It was isolated, surrounded by forest and a perfect place to hide.

Within the day Zalrodal had spoken to the goblin tribe leaders and convinced them of the benefits of further cooperation. The dissent within the group was rather low, food and treasure seemed to do it for most. All for one goblin tribe decided to pack up their things and start their way towards the castle. The Green Talon tribe, however, decided to stay within the forest doing what they had always done. Zalrodal allowed this under the condition of the tribe handing over a substantial amount of their earnings to him. Considering the castle was small it was best to not have every goblin go there with him. They would work together on any raids regardless and Zalrodal had a couple goblins less to produce pestilent smells in his future base of operations.

They made their way towards the northernmost part of the forest. The trees around them growing ever closer to one another, it was clear that there hadn’t been anyone interested in exploring this part of the forest in a long time. He led the group through the thick brushes not exactly sure where he was going himself. The goblins had spread out into different lines all moving at different speeds carrying everything they could, sacks of food, meat, treasure, flagons and barrels of drink, all anyone would need to survive. They had been walking for long hours and there seemed to be no end to the forest, the only hint of their destination, the mountain range growing slightly bigger with every step they took towards it.

The peaks of Dornon were called, after the dragon that once inhabited the area. It is a mystery what happened to the dragon but rumours say it died in its layer after a rockslide closed off its exit. There were others that thought the dragon had simply left the mountain range and then again others that claimed that their ancestor had slain the great beast. Today there was no evidence of Dornon’s existence apart from the main peak’s tip that had been shattered and made flat after one of the dragon’s rampages.

Zalrodal saw the trees growing scarce in the distance revealing a clear path out of the forest. He hastened his pace eager to be out of the woods, Guglak rushed after him, his small legs struggling with the fallen trees and heavy shrubbery in his way. Some of the goblins that had followed directly behind him attempted to follow the heightened pace set by their leader. Some of them dropped whatever they were carrying leaving it for the goblins behind them to pick up as they were eager to leave the forest. In general terms goblins enjoyed forests, however, not all forests were alike. Goblins enjoyed the woods not because they enjoyed the nature of calmness of them but rather as they proved an ideal place for an ambush and provided plenty of spots to hide in. Goblins were not particularly fond of walking through a forest especially not for long amounts of time, in fact, goblins hate doing anything for long amounts of time, except for eating and killing of course.

With the sun setting behind his back Zalrodal finally arrived at the old castle, his horde of goblins trailing behind him across the landscape. The castle was of course in disrepair. There was a hole in one of the walls and most of the others were crumbling. The gatehouse missed a gate and the roofs had long since crumbled as the wood started rotting for lack of maintenance. It wasn’t the grand lair of evil that Zalrodal envisioned. Not a dark citadel from which he could conquer the lands but it was better than a tent. And if there is anything that should be known about becoming a dark lord is that it first takes ambition and secondly a small but steady increase in power. In just a couple of days with the right mindset, one could go from one goblin to a hundred and from a dirty old cave to a camp and to a castle. According to his calculations, he should soon rule these lands if he continued at the same pace. These grand thoughts were quickly shaken from his mind as a part of the wall crumbled before his eyes. “This will take some work,” Zalrodal grumbled to himself.