He leans back. The throne groans.
Kettrik continues. “Heart gave out during a raid on a halfling granary. Pathetic. Now his brat—a bugbear with half a brain and twice the ego—wants to lead the tribe west to the Coast Road. ‘Easy pickings,’ he says.” The hobgoblin spits. “Easy graves. There’s a fort there. Wood elves. Archer towers. My scouts counted thirty longbows.”
He doesn’t rise. He doesn’t shout. He just points a jagged longsword at the muddy floor in front of him.
he says. “Good. Goblins talk too much. Sit.”
He leans forward, and you hear the faint creak of his rusted plate armor.
He grins. The metal plate over his jaw makes it look like his face is splitting in half.
He tosses a leather pouch onto the floor between you. It clinks.
The General’s Last Grotto System: D&D 5e Tone: Gritty humor / low-fantasy military The tunnel smells of wet fur, rusted iron, and boiled leather. You follow the dripping sound to a natural cavern lit by a single guttering torch. There, slouched on a throne of broken shields and gnoll skulls, sits General Kettrik “Ironjaw” — a hobgoblin with a missing ear, a jaw plated in riveted scrap metal, and one eye that tracks you like a crossbow.