The tile broke away quietly, and Gukb released a long sigh. 

He had found himself atop some fat merchant's home, and was looking to take up residence in the structure's attic. The goblin had often found that when it came to human settlements, it was the rarely used rooms of affluent houses that offered the best protection. Also, he might find it perfectly possible to access the larder through the wall space. He smiled as he remembered the far away taste of salted beef. 

"Focus now, Gukb me old boy," he whispered to himself. Now was not the time to get lost in waking dreams of food. 

Placing both spindly hands against the exposed wooden board of the extravagant house's roof, he slowly pulled against it. It creaked slightly, and a heavily rusted nail gave way; alas, it was one of many. Not easily beaten, Gukb pulled again, this time in a stop-starting motion. He'd often found it the case, that when trying to budge something heavy, it was all about the shock of impact - or something. 

A steady exertion of effort was like pushing in a spring; sooner or later, the tension would get the better of you, and your eye would be impaled before you knew what had happened. If the board came free suddenly, as he heaved with all his strength, then more than likely he'd find himself tumbling to the green finery below. Such a fall would be the end of him.

Upon perhaps the sixth or seventh tug, the board's upper edge came free. Gukb's teethy smile gleamed, and he frantically reached to grab hold of the jutting woodwork. Once he had done so, he pulled again, and the whole thing lurched off its framework. 

He was in!

Peering past the dislodged board, he saw only darkness; this was a good sign, because it meant there was little chance of the room having been turned into a bed chamber. Slowly, and cautiously, he crept out of the night and into the warm embrace of someone's attic. 

It smelt musty, as if the room was full of old papers - and he was sure that it was - and undesired articles of clothing. 

Being a goblin, Gukb's eyes were better suited to darkness than his human peers; though that's not to say that he had night vision. Rather, the shapes of stacked boxes, mannequins, trunks and old furniture were undeniable to his slitted pupils. 

"Jack pot," he said to himself, quietly.