Fancy Bastard Scales of War
Sinruth is a hobgoblin with greater aspirations than a life spent preying on the fringes of civilization. He listened closely at the campfires when his fathers and uncles told tales of the Red Hand of Doom, a mighty army that ran across the land like a scythe. And when he became an adult and a leader of his own band of hobgoblins, he found a cache of tunics and weapons left behind by that army. Sinruth felt his destiny calling. He declared himself the new Warlord of Sinruth’s Hand (as he named the group), emblazoned every possible surface with a crudely painted, downward thrusting red hand insignia, and set about recruiting the massive army that he felt was his birthright.
But starting an army isn’t as easy as those campfire tales led Sinruth to believe. Years passed with Sinruth’s band eking out a meager existence in the wilderness. But slowly, he started to gain allies. A temporary bargain with some sinister, mischievous gnomes blossomed into a lasting friendship. The Red Hand’s exploration of the mountains unearthed some undisturbed catacombs beneath the long-ruined Castle Rivenroar. Sinruth struck another bargain, and the undead guardians let the Red Hand move in, in exchange for periodic payment of kidnapped prisoners.
Sinruth and the reconstituted Red Hand had a base and a growing reputation, but they were far from a mighty army. An emissary from another remnant of the Red Hand offered to join forces under Sinruth’s banner and more than double Sinruth’s fifty soldiers under arms. All Sinruth had to do was attack Brindol, steal some relics from the original Red Hand invasion, and take enough prisoners to keep the undead guardians of Rivenroar satisfied.
The new Red Hand did recently, with Sinruth personally leading the assault on Brindol. The Red Hand sacked Brindol’s Hall of Great Valor, stealing back many of the museum pieces on display there. Sinruth brought back seven prisoners, despite the fact that the new Red Hand lost half its number in the attack. Sinruth waited in the Rivenroar catacombs for the emissary to return with reinforcements, and bided his time by contemplating the stolen treasures of a grander age and dreaming of conquests yet to come. But he was bested by the Fancy Bastards in battle, laying his dreams to naught.