A fire crackled on the outskirts of a mountain range. Grenk sat among his kin while they roasted two squirrels he’d caught. A great accomplishment for a Goblin, a meager meal for any individual. Always they had to scavenge. Always they would eat last. Goblins aren’t held among high standards in the kingdoms. As a common Human saying goes: “Angels reborn from ashes, Goblins reborn from trashes”. He couldn’t suppress a grin. Tomorrow all would be different.
Because Grenk had heard a rumour. He looked over his shoulder, down to the valley were a great keep stood. They had no idea the Humans living there would all die tomorrow. A Dark Army was marching. Marching directly towards the keep. Afterwards, Grenk and his rabble would raid the remains, and he would sit on the keep’s throne. King of Bones? King of Remains? King of… Ashes! He would rephrase the saying. Goblins reborn from ashes!
“Listen up you grubs!”
he said as he stood up and crossed his blades. His eyes lit up like the full moon. “Tomorrow, WE will be the kings!”