The goblins travelled through the Arberonian forests in their new equipment. They had spent the last couple of weeks growing accustomed to wearing their new armour and using weapons that didn’t consist of two pieces of rusted metal stuck to one another. Zalrodal had sent out a number of the goblins to go on raids against the Arberonian, both to gather resources especially food for the ever-increasing number of followers in Lord’s Rest. The second purpose for the raids would be to test the human defences, how many men were at their disposal, how well were they trained and what equipment did they have. Of course, all of these subtle details that the goblins were supposed to note went in one of their pointy ears and out the other with astounding speed. Rigrig was put in charge of one of the raiding parties, he pranced around the forest with astounding finesse and silence even wearing his new armour, the steel rings glittering in the sun that passed through the canopy. Rigrig had spoken to Migaal before they left, the demonic ferret had been giving out orders on how to make their raids leave the most impact, however, most goblins were not willing to listen to a ferret on raiding after all goblins had practically developed the activity. At least that is what they thought.

Rigrig and his band of goblins had travelled further inland than any of the other raiding parties, and that without bringing any stenjin, trolls, or humans along with them. Rigrig had no need for such things, the only thing he required was being carried in a bunch of bags and sacks by his fellow goblins. Most goblins at being told this would, of course, ask why were sacks and bags important to raiding, perhaps to carry loot in. Those more astute would of course realise that the important thing was not the bag itself but what was inside of them. The goblins crossed the Eberon at one of the many fords along its northern passage. They crossed a village or two that had already been attacked by another goblin party that had left before them. Attacking farmers was the bread and butter of raiding but the truly good loot could be found deeper inland, in the manors of merchants and minor nobles who thought themselves too high and mighty to live among the peasantry. Speaking of such manor houses Rigrig was slowly approaching such a place. It was a grand house much larger than anyone he had ever seen before but at least he wasn’t unprepared for its size after talking to Migaal. While raiding advice was unnecessary talks of riches were always important to listen to. The house was surrounded by a couple of small farms and fields and houses for the servants of the manor. But most important there was livestock gracing outside, to be precise sheep.

As darkness gathered and the sun was replaced by the moon the goblins began their plan. The goblins unpacked their bundles filled with sheep pelts and started putting them on, giving them what could only be considered to be a rather good but oversized sheep costume. Which would hopefully not be noticed under the cover of darkness. The next step was the acting, it wasn’t enough to look like a sheep, it was important to act like one too. The goblins started walking around on all fourths with their sheep pelts attempting their best impression of what a sheep would look like a night. Finally for the plan to work the sheep would have to be loud.

“Alrightz everyonez,” Rigrig said to the goblins still hiding in the forest, “givez me bestz sheepez sound!” The goblins started to meeeh and baaah in the night. “You callz that sheepez, it soundz like goblinz in sheepez costumez!” Rigrig reprimanded the goblins sad attempt at being a sheep.

“How wouldz humanz know what goblinz sheepz soundz like?” one of the goblins asked. Rigrig looked at the complainer, then looked down at his belt unsheathed the smallest of his many knives and stabbed the goblin in the leg.

“Any more complaintz?” Rigrig asked and after a good half an hour the goblins finally sounded like convincing sheep.

The goblins marched onto the manor in all their sheepy glory, they approached the other sheep and soundlessly led them away from the farm while replacing them with one of their own number. It took some time but they managed to clear the field of any sheep and kept them in the forest with a couple of the goblins while the rest gathered right in front of the house and started bleating loudly. It didn’t take too long until one of the inhabitants came out and loudly wondered what was wrong with the sheep. The moment the servant came too close the goblins jumped on him and quickly disposed of the man. They hid the body and then continued bleating loudly till the house was empty of servants. The goblins rushed into the house never leaving their sheepy disguises and killed whoever was left in the house. By the time it was morning, Rigrig and his goblins had looted the manor and stolen everything of value. They threw the sacks of grain, meat, ale onto a carriage. They brought out some of the manor's horses and attached them to the carts and then continued looking for valuables. Not a single coin, chandelier, candlestick, or silvery doorknob was left behind.

Not only did Rigrig return to Lord’s Rest with carts filled with food and valuables but he also delivered a brand new herd of sheep to the peasants in the village which seemed to leave them overjoyed. Although he supposed it made sense considering he had butchered all of their sheep to make the costumes. At least they were reusable he thought. Rigrig’s group brought by far more loot than any other raiding band who had decided to go after small villages or places that had already been raided before. The goblins even left a letter telling whoever visited the manor next that they had been raided by their new Dark Lord, the news made Migaal quite happy. If only the ferret knew that Rigrig was not capable of intelligible writing.