[color=00a651][b]Goz - Outskirts of the Dawi Camp[/b][/color]

A malformed stunted shape stalked the edges of the Dwarf camp, peering down the cliff side towards the tents and great billowing furnaces of industry that stretched across the exterior of Eight Peaks. The wretched goblin's name was Goz, and he twitched at the sight of just how many stunties there were. Much more than his warboss, Dimzog Rootrot, had expected.

"Ooo Da Boss is gunna be mad 'bout dis. Dem gobos said there wuz only a small group of stunties. Look at all dem down there. Humies is wit dem too...deys gettin' battle ready. Gunna be a big fight! Lotta stunties need killin'. Gunna need more boyz for dat..."

Goz squinted his eyes and saw one of the Dwarfs leaving a particularly impressive looking tent at the center of the camp. His armor was emblazoned blue and gold with a great horned helm, and his beard long and white: showing his age and experience. Even a simple minded goblin like Goz could understand who this was, the leader of the Dwarven throng: Belegar Ironhammer. 

"We kill em'!" Goz shouted, below he clasped a green hand over his mouth, not wanting to give away his position with such antics.

"Gotta git back to Da Boss. Gotta tell him Ironhammer is here." He muttered to himself. 

Goz scrambled up from his perch and began making his way back across the rim of the mountainside towards the hole from which he'd snuck out of. It was a precarious bit of walking, and more than once he felt himself briefly lose his grip. But he trudged onward, snickering to himself about how the stunties were gunna get clobbered by Dimzog's crew. Surely the Big Boss would reward him for his efforts once they were all dead and their loot was free for the taking. 

A rock suddenly struck him aside the head, and Goz yelped a brief screech of pain before losing his grip entirely and tumbling off the cliff and down towards the Dwarf camp. He seemed to hit just about every jagged rock he could have, and by the time he reached the bottom he was well and truly dead. 

A snicker emanated from the cliffside, and a cloaked shape emerged. A sling was clutched in its paws,

"Green-thing say-speak nothing." 

And with that the Eshin Night Runner turned and disappeared down the hole in a flash, eager to now make his own report.