Story 195: The Last Goblin's Oath

Grommash stood at the edge of the ravine, his hulking form silhouetted against the morning mist that clung to the mountain range. His green skin bore the scars of a thousand battles, each one a mark of his survival in a world that hated him and his kind. The battered armor that clung to his massive body was cobbled together from the remains of fallen foes, a grim testament to the countless lives he had taken.

But Grommash was no mindless beast. Beneath the layers of muscle and brutality, there was a mind as sharp as the twin-headed axe he wielded. He was the last of his tribe, the sole survivor of the Goblin Wars that had ravaged the land for years. Once, his people had ruled the mountain passes, feared by humans and elves alike. But that was before the Great Purge, before the armies of men had swept through the Goblin strongholds, burning everything in their path.

Now, Grommash was alone.