pritsprit

I was born beneath old roots in a goblin den carved from black earth. I was bigger than the others from the start—stronger, harder to kill. The elders said I carried war-chief blood. I only knew that strength kept you breathing.

My den taught me how easily goblins die. So I hunted alone, fought harder than needed, and earned scars early. They named me Rukthar after my first blood hunt, when I dragged back prey too large for one goblin.

The raiders came at dawn.

Humans in steel burned our tunnels and butchered my tribe. I fought them in the smoke and fire, killing two before a man with a red-crested helm drove his spear up beneath my brow. I remember the sound more than the pain. My right eye went dark forever. I tore his throat out anyway.

When it ended, my den was ash and blood. I crawled out half-blind and watched the raiders ride away, laughing, their banners burned into my memory. I will never forget them.

The wound festered, but I lived. I learned to fight with one eye, to judge distance by motion and instinct. What I lost in sight, I gained in focus.

I wander now. Not a chief, not a soldier—just a survivor. Other goblins fear me: too big, too quiet, too scarred. Fear turns into respect when I break stronger foes and do not fall. The road taught me what my den never did—goblins are many, but broken, killing each other while the world hunts us.

There is one thing I still fear.

Fire in tight places. The crackle of it, the way smoke eats the air and walls glow like they are alive. When flames close in and there is nowhere to run, my chest tightens and my grip shakes. I hide it well. A Goblin Lord cannot show fear. But I remember my den burning, and some nights the smell of smoke wakes me before my blade does.

I travel to grow stronger and wiser. I hunt those who burned my home, and I learn how leaders command, not just kill.

When my vengeance is done, I will not hide.

I will become Goblin Lord. I will crush weak chiefs, bind strong ones, and unite the tribes so no den burns alone again. Let the world laugh.

One day, it will kneel before a one-eyed king.