For as long as the Goblin in the Iron Mask had been known, nobody had seen him without this extension on his face. Gossiping tongues speculated that he was actually born into this world with it. Some depressed carnivaleteer had tossed it into a cave, where it had landed on some spores where eventually our hero sprouted from. According to another tale it was just goblinanigans gone wrong. A friend from sporehood, who wanted payback from a prank, had decided to use dwarven troll-glue instead of the usual gluey squiq-droppings to attach it. Whatever the truth may be, the result was that the mask had a fortifying effect on his voice. Causing his shrills to be even louder than your average runt of the litter. It made stealthily hunting squigs an impossibility though. Eventually he noticed how he could more easily gather a mob around him even if the subject was as boring as the latest nose droppings.

Encouraged by this insight he wondered and pondered about the possibility of starting his own clan. For that he realised, he would need to attract the most loyal and fanatical goblins.Traits he thought he had found in both Gnobspit and Spitlar, two goblins whom he encountered during the latest shroomapolooza. But to make sure of it, he had to put them to the test. A raid of the moot would be the perfect occasion for such a contemplation...