Synopsis

Its not easy being green. Or any other color. Life's just kinda shit in general.
At least it is for a goblin trying to survive on their own. I'll admit I've burned a few bridges, but in my defense, they were oh so flammable, and burned beautifuly. At any rate, I'm an exile now, scraping by in human lands, where pitchforks and torches are always just around the corner. I'd look for a better life, but I've got my hands full just staying alive when any random asshole could turn out to be a retired adventurer strong enough to hold ten bulls above their head with one hand tied behind their back.
How did they pull that bullshit anyway?