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. 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.