Established by the fourth man to rule the goblins, the Stables began as little more than a camp where the king kept his living entertainments. Ebraucus the Unspent was one of the most perverse of the warlocks, his carnal tastes varied and numerous. The Stables became his personal retreat, a place where he could indulge in his decadent pleasures in comfort, only a short ride from the castle. Here he housed a menagerie of beasts to fight before his eyes, while his collection of women from every race serviced his unspeakable desires. It was said that Ebraucus grew easily bored, and soon the animals became his lovers while the women fought to the death at his command. The Stables grew more lavish as arenas, feasting halls and living quarters were constructed. It became a veritable village, a community of wranglers, slaves, whores and pit fighters, all living in service to the Goblin King. Ebraucus the Unspent was greedy, licentious and cruel, and a lamb compared to the son that followed him.

Prasugut Daughtersbane expanded his father’s retreat, bringing the orgies of flesh and death to a pinnacle of unimaginable debauchery. He had the Red Caps searching the known world for the most comely children, wanting to possess them early so that they might know a life that was meant only to please him. But the Stables and Prasugut’s reign came crashing down not long after he stole the twin daughters of a fomori widow.

Neavain was a celebrated beauty amongst the fomori clans. Her husband had been a blacksmith and was executed by the Red Caps for providing weapons to the Fae rebels. Faabar often spoke of him with respect, and his wife with something near to reverence. If she was anything like the female fomori Deglan had seen, she must have been magnificent. Tall and statuesque, with manes of thick curls, fomori women an impressive sight. They have few children, and Neavain’s twin girls were a rare treasure. When they were stolen away to become Prasugut’s unwilling consorts, Neavain flew into a frenzy, taking up her husband’s smithing hammer, and tracking the Red Caps to the Kings’ Stables. She slaughtered the goblin garrison, freeing her daughters and all the other slaves, who rose up, tearing the Stables down in a fury of liberation.

None of the following Goblin Kings ever rebuilt them.

Deglan now stood in the ruins, looking at the distant silhouette of Castle Gaunt, wishing he could reduce it to rubble. How they hoped to storm that cursed citadel, even with the help of a Forge Born, was something Deglan had pestered Curdle about for days. The seer had only told him to remain patient, which, of course, had the opposite effect.

“So if we are having our funeral,” Deglan said, reaching over to take the flask again, “we must be ready to make a move.”