Zalrodal had gathered with two of the Stenjin outside of one of their many entrances leading into the mountain. They walked deeper into the forest, their guides leading them towards the thieves hideout. The Dark Lord had sent his young goblin companion, Glol, to gather one of the goblin tribes from the fortress and bring them to the forest to attack the thieves. The sun started to descend along the horizon and with the cover of darkness he met with the goblin fighting force from the Yellow Handz tribe. There were about twenty goblins all carrying spears, crude swords, and bows. He reckoned this should be more than enough of a strike force on a small thieving crew at night. The two Stenjin looked at the goblins, following them with their yellow eyes as their stone frames turned to the approaching goblin force.

The Stenjin, curled up into a ball and beckoned Zalrodal to follow them. Their bodies rumbled through the forest leaving a clear path in their way. The goblins charged after the rolling balls of stone and deeper into the forest. The goblins were running around in the dark of night but their eyes were accustomed to such darkness and the Stenjin seemed to have an innate ability to know where they were going. They felt the vibrations of the Earth around them and knew exactly were everything was. The goblins followed deftly, they knew this part of the forest as it was their old home. The river Eberon flowed through these parts of the forest, and its currents could be heard as they approached. The river was a pool of complete darkness in that night, all that could be seen were the reflection of stars in silvery strands upon the waters surface.

One of the Stenjin pointed across the river, small rocks crumbling away from its arm as it did so. The thieves were across the river in a small encampment. Migaal pointed towards the sky, his demonic eyes saw the strands of smoke moving towards infinity with clarity. Migaal had many powers yet unknown to the Dark Lord. Zalrodal gathered his goblins and put them to work. They searched for a fallen tree in the forest, until they found an old oak, lying on the ground blown to the ground by one of the passing storms.

The goblins attached ropes to the log and covered the way to the river with round objects and sticks and started pushing the log towards the river. It was quick and efficient work and the log soon landed on the other side of the river forming a bridge of sorts. It would be enough for the goblins and Zalrodal to cross the waters without issue. Slowly the goblins crossed the great oak log to the other side, followed by Zalrodal and then the two Stenjin. Wood cracked under their steps but held firm long enough for them to cross. They snuck through the night under the cover of the trees and darkness until they got close enough to see the thieves. The bandits had set up a small camp in a clearing, a group of them was keeping watch while the others slept in hide tents. Their numbers were much larger than Zalrodal would have expected, he thought they would find a small bandit group but they numbered near thirty men.

If anything could be said about goblins it was that they had a particular talent for surprise attacks and sneaking about. While a normal goblin was usually no match for any experienced fighter, two or three of them attacking by surprise were plenty. A number of the bandits would be dead before they realised they were being attacked and the ones that were still alive would be waking up from their sleep.

The goblins snuck closer to the camp, they lined up in the bushes and Zalrodal gave the command. In a single sweep the goblins charged out of the woodwork like a pack of rabid dogs. The first guards fell without being able to draw their swords and the others did not put up much resistance to the green wave either. With the clamour of battle the sleeping bandits awoke and grabbed their weapons and charged to fight the goblins.

One of the bandits charged at Zalrodal, he dwarfed the bandit in size but did not count on his ferocity. Zalrodal stepped back dodgin the first slice and immediately jumped back avoiding another strike aimed at his head. Zalrodal got into a fighting stance ready to try to disarm the bandit. The ferret on his shoulder rushed across the length of his arm and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke as a weapon formed in the Dark Lord’s hands. A dagger of steel black as night formed in his hand. The blade no longer than his forearm.

The bandit swung again ignoring the magically appearing weapon, Zalrodal slashed against the bandits sword, as the blades met his dagger broke through the steel cleaving it in half. The bandit fell to the ground, scampering back towards the camp but was soon impaled by a passing goblin.

Zalrodal now searched for more enemies, he found two bandits attacking a singular goblin and dashed into battle. One of the men swung an axe at his head as he charged, the Dark Lord threw himself on the ground feet first sliding under the axe blade and simultaneously slashing upwards with the dark steel. He severed the bandits arm at the shoulder and rose to strike at his neck ending him. The blade made Zalrodal feel stronger, stronger than usual, he was faster and quicker on his feet as he dodged the attack from the second bandit. He weaved under a sword thrust and saw another attack coming from his back as he turned. He parried the strike and slashed the new attacker's neck. The bandit behind him was frozen in place as a goblin spear protruded through his chest.

The Dark Lord looked around the bandit camp, the sounds of battle were dying down as rapidly as the last of the bandits fell. The dagger in his hand dissipated into smoke again and Migaal climbed up his arm once again. “I hope that dagger was more to your liking than some goblin knife.”

Now the favourite part of a battle for a goblin would start. The looting, the goblins ripped clothes and armour of the bandits and gathered their weapons for themselves. They rummaged in their tents and carried off their chests filled with all manner of loot. They would give their share to Zalrodal once they reached home but anyone working with creatures such as goblins knows to let them acquire their own loot and a great deal of it as well. It wasn’t a particularly difficult way to keep an army happy, and a rich army was an army that could afford better equipment and fight better, so there was nothing to complain about.

As the goblins ran around gathering loot, the Dark Lord called for the Stenjin to come and search for their lost artifact. They searched the ground and corpses and the goblins loot for it. They finally found the artifact under a bedroll inside one of the bigger tents. The heart of the mountain as the Stenjin called it was much less impressive than Zalrodal would have thought. It was a stone smaller than his fist, it shone in a faint grey and was perfectly smooth, it looked more like an egg than a heart. Zalrodal placed the heart in his pocket and called for his goblin to clean up the last of the loot. Moments later they were back on their way towards the mountain to return the heart. If the Stenjin could repair his fortress then they could start attacking the surrounding regions and acquire more land and treasure. More land and treasure would attract the attention of monsters and fighters to join the Dark Lord’s army but it would also alert the kingdoms of attack, and however crafty the goblins were they could not fight an army, for the moment.