Hobbu Gogo stopped stirring.
It had grown quiet.
Too quiet.
She had sensed this a few minutes ago but had been too absorbed in mixing thoroughly the concoction she had in the cauldron almost as large as her 12 meter tall mass.
This object was nearly as ancient as she was, its exterior rusted and its dark colour fading with nearly as many callouses and wrinkles as she had. Her sagging light green skin tumbled as she turned from the huge cauldron, her beady white eyes turning to the doors to this room in the distance.
Her five guards, all Tier 9 in strength, were still stationed behind these doors, though they seemed tense.
It was probably because just as she was now realising, they were concerned about how the goblins in the capital had suddenly stopped moving, all gaping while caught in dreams.
She could sense all this faintly because of her strength.