The night was cloaked in a heavy, oppressive silence as the Hobgoblins made their camp on the barren wasteland.
The air was thick with tension, the ground beneath them hard and unyielding. The sky was clear, but the twin moons cast an eerie, blood-red glow over the landscape, adding to the ominous atmosphere.
Ten thousand Hobgoblins filled the desolate plain, their campfires scattered like malevolent stars in a twisted constellation. The fires crackled and hissed, casting flickering shadows that danced menacingly across the ground.
The Hobgoblins moved about their camp with a grim purpose, their guttural voices and harsh laughter creating a discord that seemed to make the very earth tremble.
