Grorr's Rise To Power Chapter 1

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Grorr had been a budding young soldier within Wrathshollow's infantry. She was blooming as a fighter and showed a natural proficiency in many kinds of weapons - those of which included flails, axes of all sizes, swords and pole arms. She could even fight gracefully in armors heavy and light. For all of Grorr's talents, she wasn't a very good shot. Her accuracy was discouraging enough to avoid any and all ranged weaponry.
As soon as she had gotten off of the boat from her home of Nargorloth, she was inducted into the military. She travelled because she wanted to live up to her cultural heritage. Grorr Ethel BrokeJaw stood out in the training fields. Her at-home training had been paying off. She almost looked like she knew what she was doing.
To this day, Grorr still fought with the ferocity of a berserker, yet the careful grace of a silent assassin. She was born to kill, maim and destory. Like when she was in training, just as in her first battle in 885, Grorr only moves forward in battle. She overwhelms her opponents with a mighty swing of her trademark flail, and then typically follows the attack up with a jab or a slash from either a shortsword or a handaxe.
I can recall seeing Grorr in the courtyard, not long before she had become queen. She was deonstrating proper flail practice to aspiring soldiers. She was always attempting to pass along her knowledge. Victory is destrmined by those killing their enemies, not keeping their allies alive. Grorr wanted to make sure she was surrounded by capable warriors.
Grorr sparred with thirty fully grown, healthy hobgoblins. One by one, she took them all down in two moves per enemy. Her fighting style was more than effective. The wooden head of her flail had soared through the air and rang out a beautiful song as it crashed against each combatant's head. Sometimes she wouldn't even need to follow up a blow.
"I think it's time to clock out for the night," Naragorath laughed as he entered the courtyard with Crimshaw. "If you keep beating on them, they won't remember any of the lesson you're attempting to hammer home."
"What would you rather be doing with your time?" Grorr asked as she dropped the weapons and shook her leather gloves off.
"There is for sure a spot for the three of us at the tavern." Naragorath grinned as he approached his lover.
Crimshaw followed closely behind Naragorath, his tattered orange cape fluttering behind him. He was adorned in highly decorated ceremonial armor, in order to commemorate his leadership in the defense of the Stonerange Ridge. The armor was a well kept, beautiful gold plating with blood rubies decorated at the shoulder pads. He held his helmet under his right arm. It was a full helmet with a face mask that had been decorated skull fragments. 
The gardens of the courtyard didn't mirror the beauty of the sky. The flowers were wilted and dead, the dirt was simply just that with some grass seed sprinkled in and there were no benches, seats or decoration. This was nothing more than a training ground.