The night has fallen.
An immaculate full moon hangs in the sky.
On the circle of walls surrounding the watchtower, several Dwarves are patrolling.
A waft of breeze carrying a foul odor causes the Dwarves to wrinkle their noses and sneeze harshly.
"What's that smell?"
"What? I don't smell anything."
"There's a stink, a stink in the wind."
"Sniff, ugh!"
"There really is something, what's that?"
Rita Enke, standing on the wall, listens to the conversations of the Dwarves nearby, but only stares straight ahead.
"What's that?" A Dwarf looks toward where the wind is blowing, squinting his eyes as if seeing something.
Though it's already night, the moonlight is bright enough for this Dwarf to clearly see the things running from behind the hill.
A group, a group of Goblins.
Like fleas, charging towards them, among this group of fleas are a few large ones.
They are covered in a dark greenish color, grasping all sorts of dilapidated weapons.
