After gently moving the barrels and boxes aside, you grip your weapons tightly and throw open the door of the southern supply room.
Standing in the central corridor of goblin territory is an enemy you have not faced before. A larger, meaner version of a goblin stands in the smoky air, with a crown of antlers on his head. In his left hand he holds a morningstar. In his right he holds the leashes to two dire rats.
"I knew you'd come," the seven-foot tall goblinoid laughs, "Get ready to meet the cookpot." He drops the leashes and moves forward to attack.