Guglak spent this day in much the same way he spent any other day at the fortress. He yelled at the goblins for not bringing enough food. He yelled again at them for building too slowly. He yelled because they didn’t carry enough resources, and mostly, he yelled because nobody listened the first time. The old goblin considered this to be one of the harder jobs at the castle, after all not anyone could sit on a wall yelling all day without growing tired, but Guglak was up to the challenge. He was often left in charge of the castle while the Dark Lord was away furthering their glorious and evil cause. Unfortunately, he was now too old to run through the woods killing things all day, his already small goblin frame was growing smaller and more crooked with age, and his fingers cracked and were stiff around the stick that held him upright. Despite it all, he was his master’s first follower and he was willing to continue working hard to show his loyalty.
Guglak was well respected amongst his fellow goblins, not only was he the first goblin to join Zal’Rodal, he was also the oldest. Old age was a confusing topic for goblins, by their own customs they were prone to following the strongest amongst them as the weak usually died, and old age did bring about weakness. However, for a goblin to be so strong as to live long enough for their body to become weak and frail again was an achievement that caused them to set their usual customs aside. Growing old was not something that often happened in goblin society, so it was not something they worried too much about. The humans always seemed to respect their elders, Guglak liked that about them, it made it easier to yell at them without any snarky responses. Additionally, the humans seemed to fear him, perhaps they actually feared the armed entourage that followed behind him, but he did not think that was the case.
Amongst all the creatures in the castle, the Stenjin were both his favourite and most hated. Naturally, he loved the Stenjin for their work ethic, they did everything he told them to do when he told them to, and they did it without complaint and better than everyone else. If he asked them to bring two logs to a building site, they returned with two logs each. He recalled the days when goblins worked so hard they didn’t even complain about being crushed by the boulders they were forced to carry. Upon further reflection, he realised it would be difficult to complain while under a boulder, he could use that information. The reason he disliked the Stenjin had much to do with the reasons he liked them, they always did their job perfectly which meant he couldn’t yell at them for being useless. He supposed he could still yell at them but that would make even his old goblin self feel bad.
Guglak paced along the wall until he found a comfortable spot to rest, he leaned over the castle walls, his bony fingers clasped together and his sight fixed on the forest’s edge. A smile crossed his face, his teeth were a ghastly sight and that was before he started losing them, he supposed that he would only lose more with time. He did not like to smile much but he struggled to contain his happiness. He saw his Dark Lord Zal’Rodal riding out of the forest on a great black steed and behind him a goblin warband. The goblins were laden with loot and were pulling on ropes bringing even more horses to the castle. He looked forward to their arrival, he would be able to grow his loot stockpile with his share. The best part about his master returning would certainly be the goblins returning so that he could yell at them, he was growing tired of yelling at the same green faces every day. He had already found his first victim, one of the goblins was riding on one of the horses, surely his master would not want the horses to be dirtied by useless goblins.
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Rigrig sat atop his newly acquired steed as he returned to the castle. He had strapped himself to the saddle with a rope, his feet not reaching the stirrups. He hoped the horse would continue walking where he wanted it to. He was the only goblin that had decided to attempt to ride one of the horses, goblins usually preferred riding larger wolves or wargs but Rigrig was not afraid of new experiences. Besides learning to ride a horse would make him the tallest among the goblin cavalry and that was something to strive for, he would be the tallest and most capable mounted stabber the world had ever seen. The warband travelled through the constantly growing village outside the fortress, new houses were being built each day and he could hear the sound of hammering coming from the newly built smithy. He should ask the smith for a new dagger to stab things with.
The castle was also recovering from its state of disrepair. The holes in the walls were filled with stone and reinforced making them a formidable obstacle to overcome. The wooden gate had been repaired so that future enemies could not simply waltz in, and the watchtowers had been rebuilt and were now goblinned by members of the different goblin clans waving ragged banners. Rigrig spotted Guglak waiting atop the gatehouse, the old goblin seemed excited about their return though he sensed the old goblin's eyes glaring at him even at this distance. Rigrig liked the old goblin, mostly because he hadn’t been yelled at before, and he enjoyed spectating the yelling as long as he wasn’t on the receiving end. Rigrig was often tasked with training the goblins around the castle to fight, he considered his training sessions so far to have had fantastic results. He considered himself to be a masterful teacher in the art of war, after all, he knew everything from stabbing to stabbing. He saw the old goblin descend from the gatehouse to greet his master and yell at other goblins to help carry the loot inside. Most of the goblins went straight to work while Rigrig went to visit his prodigious young goblin recruits.
There were about twenty of them, all still having the lighter green of youth about them. They greeted their teacher with crooked smiles and waved their arms around as he approached. Rigrig pulled out the head of one of the riders they had ambushed out of an old sack and presented it to his students, “iz headz of human warlordz in iron shell,” Rigrig informed them trying to sound informative, “listenz me and you can get one tooz.” The young goblins cheered at the prospect of killing their first knight themselves in the future. Rigrig dropped the head on the floor and started pacing in front of his student. “Lez see if you still know how fightz, lessonz in tactikz, yez?” Rigrig stopped his pacing and looked at the students and pointed at one of them that was hiding behind his colleagues, “Spikz, tellz me, if therez too manz humanz attacking, whatz do youz do?”
“Mmake trapz and shootz at them,” Spikz said his voice growing louder as he answered.
“Wrongz!” Rigrig yelled, “Stab stab them. Next questionz, youz see animalz on huntz what do youz do?”
“Shootz it and surrounz it,” two goblins said in unison.
“Wrong, stab stab it. You have much to learn.”
