Main storyline will resume after this short break. Please, pop yourself some popcorn and enjoy some gobliny goodness. Watch out, they might steal some.

Interlude I

"Guesswhatguesswhatguesswhat?" A remarkably hairy goblin skidded into the Goblin City Central Hall and tripped flat on his face over one of the many dead-drunk goblins dotted across the ground. No one stopped what they were doing, but then again no one was doing much.

"Whaa?" the violated bleary-eyed goblin groaned.

"Wut? Wot? What? Vhaaat?" A goblin with huge, curly tusks reminiscent of an Italian mustachio popped his head out of the spout of the fountain he was purposefully clogging up.

"Chicken butt?" a tiny little mouse-like goblin squeaked curiously.

"Awwwww... you guessed it." The first goblin's humongously long eyebrows drooped in disappointment.

"Oh," the drunk goblin grunted, except maybe it was more of an 'Ouf' or an 'Uhrrf' or just the involuntary sound goblins make when they pass out.

A scrounging black chicken passed by and took a vengeful peck at the mouse-goblin. "CHICKEN BUTT," the tiny goblin shrieked with terror and ran up the first goblin's eyebrows to hide in his plentiful knots of hair.

"I thought you wuz gunna talk 'bout 'is Majesty," the mustachio goblin grumbled to himself as he tried unsuccessfully to extricate himself from the fountain spout.

"His Majesty?" a larger goblin spurted out all of his royally "banned" fairy beer and doubled over coughing as he tried to look around wildly. "Where?" he finally wheezed out.

"Nowhere," the hairy goblin thumped him on the back cheerfully. "His Majesty's sulking in the castle like always, still not caring what poor innocent beings we wreak havoc on."

"No he ain't, stoopid," the mustachio goblin snapped. He had managed to get all but his hips and legs out, and was hanging rather pathetically upside-down off the spout. "Well, soon he ain't gunna be. There ur two new runners."

The mood in the town hall perked up immediately. Dozens of goblins who had been involuntarily listening (for lack of anything else to listen to) started chattering to each other, and even the drunk ones halfway roused themselves.

"New runners? Finally. It was gettin' boring round here."

"Mebbe the King will start singing again."

"I doubt it. Twoo runners awen't going to wast wong."

"Yeah, his Majesty is goin to be especially evil after... her."

"Oooh, ooh, I can't wait! Let's go get um!"

"Stoopid! We can't do nuthin' yet unless the King orders us to."

The Goblin City – though really, it was hardly more of a small, badly maintained collection of shacks by now – was suddenly alive and buzzing with action. After all, there was only so much trouble you could wreck without enforced authoritative punishment before you got bored. Or just ran out of ideas. And goblins do not do well bored.

The arrival of the first challengers since her was definitely not boring.

But to some, it was just plain annoying.

Not too far away, in the very depths of the dark and gloomy castle, echoed the sound of a crystal shattering.