The Wyrmsmoke Mountains shook with the thunder of ten thousand screaming hobgoblin soldiers. From the phalanx emerged a single champion. One by one the tribes fell silent as the warlord rose up, blue scales gleaming along his shoulders, horns swept back from his head. A hundred bright yellow banners stood beneath him, each marked with a great red hand. He stood upon a precipice and raised his arms.

“I am Azarr Kul, Son of the Dragon!” the warlord bellowed. “Hear me! Tomorrow we march to war!”

March of the Red Hand of Doom

thedude KarnosTheWarlord Erich flymolo42 MarkW goatain