Warchief Garblac sat in a large, ornately carved chair made of the finest quartz, flipping a sharp knife in his left hand as he waited impatiently for his commanders to arrive. He and the largest group of the goblins had broken through in the uppermost district of the mountain. He himself had chosen to lead from the front, surronded by a large mob of his most loyal and heavily armoured goblins; they had butchered the way through the elites of the gnomish colony. After an hour of battle, Garblac had chosen to fall back from the front lines. He and a small group of goblin warriors, after a while, came across this room. It had been filled with a group of funny creatures. All of them had been old and busy shouting at each other in high-pitched squeeks, which Garblac couldn't understand when they entered.

Garblac He had allowed the goblin warriors who had refused to live by his side to have their moment of glory. ignoring the carnage of the quick one-sided battle, he had surveyed the room. The creature had been sitting around a large table on small, plain wooden chairs. To the rear of the chamber, a raised platform contained the ornate crystal chair. Garblac had crossed the room and climbed onto the chair. strechting out to watch the last of the little creatures pick up a wooden chair and attempt to fight off the dozen or so of his hanger-ons. After the creature had died, he had sent the goblins off into the mountain as runners to fetch his commanders and had been here waiting in the big crystal chair for an hour or so.

A puffy-out goblin entered the room in a large clinking suit of full-plate armor. He entered the chamber and crossed the room to the table, throwing down a large metal cross-bow-like weapon with three large spikes instead of a bow. It was as the goblin removed his helmet and looked around the room that Garblac finally grabbed the knife, sliding it back into place on his belt. He looked at the newcomer from his elevated position on the crystal chair. "First to arrive as always, arrablac?” Garblack asked the newcomer, “Afraid to lead from the front?” Arrablac looked up at the warchief. It was a common accusation. “One thing you will learn, little brother, is that it’s much harder to replace sneaky ones than stupid ones.” He snapped up at his younger brother perched high above him, "Here, watch it, Arry. It’s little CHIEF brother to you lot, now we are in battle,” Garblack snapped back to Arrablac across the room.

Before the two goblin arguments could go any further, a third goblin entered the chamber. The bones of his cerominal outfit rattled as he entered. "Greetings, my cheif," the new goblin said with a low bow to Garblack. With a bow so low, his large skull headdress nearly fell off. "See," said Garblack, gesturing towards where Arrablac had now taken a seat on one of the wooden gnomish chairs. Arrablac rolled his eyes. Of all their brothers, Zarblack, the newcomer, was the creepiest. As much as Zarblac was despised by his siblings, it had been agreed that he would be invited to join the high command of the warhorde due to the sheer levels of goblin magic he was capable of. “Take a seat, Lord Shaman," Garblack said to the shayman, who was finally rising to his bow. The shayman walked over to a chair, pausing to casually kick the former occupant’s chair to the room's now blood-soaked smooth stone floor before he took a seat at the table.

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The last goblin to arrive limped into the chamber with the stink of a cave spider. Jarblac, the goblin, made his way gingerly over to the nearest chair without a second look around the room at the other goblin. He sat down and closed his eyes. The three older goblins stared at him exspectantly. After letting out a long, painful breath, he opened his eyes. “You wounded Jar?” I asked Arrablac with a tone of concern. Jarblack grimaced, adjusting his weight. “Friendly fire!” he winced. “One of the archers managed to hit my leg as I was riding here. Thanks for that, by the way.” He glowered up at Garblac. “Sending a running to retrieve me from the front lines of a battle,” Jar Blac continued to grumble. dropping off into disgruntled grunting after awhile as Garblac waived away his concern. “It was vital that all of you be heard so we could take stock of our forces,” he said to the disgruntled goblin. A low chuckle went around Garblac’s assembled war chiefs' "Well, Grut ain't coming; I saw him on the way up, said he’s busy, thought he might have killed your runner anyways, and I never saw Snarblac reckon he was still cowering in a tunnel somewhere below, scared up hers full of drawves,” Jarblack yelled to the group through winces of pain. "Well, guess I'll have to give you a lot of orders then,” Garblac said, leaning back in the large crystal chair. “Arrablac, you build the weapons. You go see if you can get those light stone things turned on again. I know we can all see in the dark, but when we loot the shiny stuff, we need to be able to see properly.” The council nodded in agreement as Garblack added, “As for you two, Zarblac, you go find Grutt and back him up; Jarblack, you go and find Snarblack; if he or his boys are still in the tunnels, stick with them." Both the goblins began to argue after they received their respective orders. “Why do I have to listen to Grutt? He ain't family?!” Yell the bone-covered shaman up at Garblack, sitting in his crystal chair. “You wanted me to travel the entire distance of the mountain while wounded,” screamed Jarblack, gesturing to his leg.

“Silence!” Snarblack Yelled. “Jar, you are going to go that far because you are the only one who can ride cave spiders. Your legs are wounded, but you don't bloody walk, bruv,” Jars protested, and Snarblack rounded on the shayman, “and you will go find Grutt because either hes found something good to fight or hes found the mots of these weird dwarf monkey things.” The hayman also shut up. All three of the goblins looked up at their warchief. “Well!” He yelled at them. “Get a move on,” the footsteps of six clawed goblin feet hastily left the room, and Garblack returned to spinning the knife in his hand.

Somewhere in the mountain deep below him, a hatch that had been concealed for centuries whined open. A tiny gnomish form dropped to the floor and headed into the darkness at a low sprint.