The goblin whose name was Nuggle, leaned against his ebony staff upon a broken rock amidst the fields below the tower. The Warlock spoke of many grand things but Nuggle did not care about them. For Nuggle had never known a time where Fellmore was great, and where the little gobs could run and play freely without being eaten... or worse. Others around Nuggle were cheering when the Warlock finished, but Nuggle showed no emotion where he stood. Nuggle's world was going to change, and change fast. Those who did not see this, were already dead, but that wasn't such a bad thing. 

Nuggle found that killing was necessary. Nuggle could use it to prove a point, tighten Nuggle's hold upon the world and strike fear into the hearts of Nuggle's enemies. Nuggle might not have been a very good with a weapon, but magic came to Nuggle naturally. Nuggle hopped off the rock, and down into a stream of creatures. It seemed to Nuggle that the whole of Fellmore was here, ready to strike back at the heart of the so called enemy. However, Nuggle would not be joining these creatures, and instead wandered off to find his own company. Why Nuggle was in it, Nuggle did not know. 

Nuggle did know one thing though, that he is a simple creature, only craving that which might elevate his position further. And Nuggle smiled as the crowd swallowed him up.