Born of Darkness, hatred, and the failed spells of warlocks, they took on the foul appearance befitting the most ardent servants of Darkness. Initially treated as a creation similar to the Spawn of Magic, they were considered harmless, so their rotten souls could mature in the shadows of ignorance and insult. They were rarely seen, so none suspected that the creatures hiding in caverns and burrows deeper than the Gnome cities and underground roads would eventually become a race that the more prudent mages would call the Apostles of Gehenna.
In scanty, torn garments, dirty and stinking, they emerge from their caves to carry out the plan of their creators and prepare everything for their arrival. At first, no one believed in their calling and to this day many consider them to be ordinary robbers and bandits wandering around cemeteries, old battlefields and ruined fortresses. Slowly but fervently, the Hobgoblins perform their rituals with mad devotion, which, although still primitive, with every beat of their black hearts give them strength and bring them closer to the deeds that have been destined for them.
Looking at their skin covered in filth, festering abscesses, and strange hairy growths, where a thousand cracks and scars writhe, one can feel only revulsion towards this race, but those who have had the honour of partaking of hobgoblin potions will see much more…
With each passing day their bodies gain new scars and growths, just as their underground kingdom gains new corridors, tunnels, and dark temples that spew forth new, terrifying creatures. The filth that hides their bodies also hides their lairs among castles and cities, where the unwitting inhabitants—or rather, their bodies—draw the Hobgoblins like a magnet. From the corpses of their victims, they brew potions in great cauldrons whose effects even the most astute of mages and scholars cannot guess. Once ignored, they now inspire fear and terror, but as the younger generations of Hobgoblins sing, it is nothing compared to how they will play with the bodies of their victims when they grow up and what fear will come when their Mother, the Dark Breeder and the Father, whose name even they themselves cannot speak, arrive…
The first blessing they received was the ability to construct Artefact Dark Lanterns in their great forges, with which, as they say, they will light the way for their Mother, who will come with the second Artefact. With it, they will have the ability to control beasts from the darkest depths of the earth, as dark as their souls. According to legends, the third Artefact is the Great Hammer, with which they can wreak destruction on a scale no race has ever known. At that time, the Hobgoblins, according to the prophets, will be the strongest race, and all others will become its servants, who, if they are worthy, will be given the honour of living in their underground, abandoned lairs…
These legends bring a mocking smile to many, but it disappears from their faces as soon as they see in the darkness of night, among tombstones and temples, the dark glow of Artefact Lanterns and their owners, who with great devotion steal corpses for their rites and practices. Many towns and villages guard their cemeteries, but even city guards fear the strange, misshapen corpse-hunters whose appearance, the closer to night, terrifies hearts and souls. There are also those who hunt Hobgoblins for money or out of duty, to prevent them from carrying out their dark plan.
However, no one knows how long the Hobgoblins’ time is, and no one knows how much time is left until their Mother, the Dark Breeder, arrives. Looking at the strangely smiling, filthy faces, there may not be much of it left…