We like collective nouns — those sometimes strange, often evocative, often humorous names for groups of things, like animals, birds, insects, and sea creatures. Examples: A pride of lions, a pack of dogs, a troop of baboons, a litter of kittens, a flock of gulls, a brood of hens, a murder of crows, an exaltation of larks, a parliament of owls, a swarm of bees, a plague of locusts, a school of fish, a bed of clams, a shoal of bass, a pod of orcas.
But what do you call a collective of goblins? Since we’re fans of alliteration, we thought about “a gaggle of goblins”. But a collective of geese (on the ground) is called a gaggle, and geese don’t seem too bright. Goblins, on the other hand, are fiendishly clever. So gaggle is out. (btw, did you know that a collective of geese in flight are called a “skein”?) A “gathering” of goblins might work, but it doesn’t adequately convey the devilish menace or the barely contained chaos that we imagine would ensue.
No, what you call a collective of goblins bent on mischief and mayhem is Nekrogoblikon. And that sulphurous smell in your nostrils? Why, that’s the aroma of the hell-storm unleashed on the band’s forthcoming new album entitled, of course, Stench. Because we have ingratiated ourselves with the goblin hordes, we have been gifted with the opportunity to absorb the miasma of Stench before less-favored humans. In a word, Stench is brilliant, from beginning to end. (more after the jump . . .)