Kobolds are a race of beastfolk similar to the dragonmen of Imalor. However, they are smaller and weaker. Much weaker.

But what these mini-dragons lack in strength, they make up for in numbers. A plague greater than the goblins. And at this moment, there are almost ten thousand of them surrounding my city. How did they get so close without anyone noticing? Betrayers perhaps? I must ask Kheldash later.

However, as I approach the crowd, I notice that most of the kobolds are not carrying weapons. Actually, they look hungry and tired. Either it is a poorly equipped army or there is something else going on.

I wonder what could have led to this situation...

§ § § § § §

Our march is nearing its end. In the distance, I see the walls of the city, still under construction. Above them, the silhouette of a wyvern soars. Its scales gleam in the color of copper. Pure and immaculate. Although he is still small, he's the lord of this land.

"Brother Latharon! It's him!" A follower points at the divine beast approaching our caravan.

"Yes, sister. It is him!" I speak with a tone of excitement and relief.

For the past two years, I have wandered across the continent of Dro-Ur with a single purpose: to guide my scattered people in this land.

Since Ralkor entered his deep slumber, there are no more dragonlords for us to follow. Korath dwells in the frozen peaks where most of my kin would not survive, Odura cannot be found anywhere, and the other dragons are not powerful enough to protect us. Without a dragonlord, my people have dispersed in a diaspora throughout the continent.

We kobolds are weak. Our strength lies in our numbers. When scattered, only a bleak fate awaits us.

After generations of living in misery and hardship, my people grew weaker and more sickly. As one of the last remaining kobold priests, I prayed every day for the spirits of the Elder Wyrms to send a new leader to us.

But to my surprise, it was a manling god who finally answered my prayers.

While hunting rabbits to feed the hungry and sick, I heard a voice calling my name. I walked through the forest to find who it could be, and came across a miraculous sight. The voice that called me came from a tree engulfed in flames. But despite the fire, it did not burn. Its fruits, similar to the the dragonfruits pitahayas, remained juicy amidst the blazing flames that reached towards the sky.

The voice, gentle and warm, asked me to approach as it had a revelation to share with me.

"Come closer without fear, small one. For I bring you good tidings."

"Are you the Burning God?" I asked, bewildered.

"Yes, I am. And I bring news of the end of your people's suffering. A new fire dragonlord has been born. And he will rescue you from misery and humiliation. Leave this land immediately and begin gathering your people. You must wander throughout Dro-Ur until you find the last of your kind. And when all kobolds are reunited, you must march to the heart of the continent, the steppes of Darog. For there lies your new home.

Rejoice, priest Latharon, for your time of trouble is about to come to an end."

With the promises of the manling god, I began to preach to my people. We set out on an exodus, quickly recruiting more brothers and sisters. Our journey was hard. Many did not believe the promises of the Burning God. Many were lost along the way.

But finally, we arrived at our promised land.

§ § § § § §

More shocking than encountering the army of kobolds at the gates of my city was what would happen shortly after.

After I land blocking the passage to the city entrance, Farat, Kheldash and part of the militia come to meet me. In the opposite direction, what looks like the leader of the kobolds starts walking towards us.

He does not seem to be a soldier or even a warrior. This kobold has olive-green scales and wears tattered robes reminiscent of a monk. It seems he is a priest.

As the kobold priest approaches me, he says not a word. He simply bows until his forehead touches the ground. Promptly, he is followed by the multitude of kobolds behind him, who begin to kneel in a wave.

Funny how kobolds, one of the weakest types of monsters, resemble the most powerful monsters of all. It's as if their very existence was a parody, a mockery of the gods.

That's one of the reasons why kobolds do not worship gods. They only venerate ancestral spirits and those who hold power in flesh: us, the dragons.

"Oh Lord Redsky." The kobold speaks in Draconian. "The Burning God revealed himself to me in the form of a flaming tree. He said that you are the new dragonlord who will lift our people out of misery. Please, accept us into your kingdom."

"The burning god?" I ask, intrigued, as I look at shaman Farat, who releases a sigh of relief.

"The Burning God Sedayi is one of the most popular deities in the world. Almost as popular as the Sun God Jahaya, the sustainer of all things.” The shaman starts to explain.

"Throughout Erdonya, the gods remain distant and difficult to reach. They always have their own interests and agendas. For this reason, many people pray to spirits and saints who act as intermediaries to the deities.

However, the Burning God is different. He, along with the Undying King Delos, the god of constructs and undead, are the most active gods in the material world.

To know that such a merciful deity as the Burning God is interested in Your Majesty is a very good omen." The orc shaman looks visibly relieved.

"So they just want to serve me in exchange for a place to stay? That's good, but there are so many of them. Did you know anything about this?" I ask Kheldash, but her smile betrays her guilt.

"Happy birthday, Your Majesty." She bows to avoid eye contact.

"Happy birthday are my balls”. I say, pissed off.

"My apologies, Your Majesty. I was aware of the kobold march, but even I didn't expect so many of them. The city prepared to receive only half their numbers."

"Half?! There are thousands of them!"

"We will ensure that all kobolds can be relocated." Kheldash tries to reassure me.

"I could tell them that I will only accept the bravest and strongest among them and force them to fight in duels until their numbers are halved." I muse out loud in English.

"You can't be serious." Farat closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in disapproval.

"That would be a tremendous waste of manpower. I mean, koboldpower." Kheldash opines, strangely agreeing with the orc shaman.

"Alright, no duels to the death or blood offerings in my name." I declare as I turn to the priest.

"What is your name, kobold?" I ask.

"My name is Latharon, Your Majesty."

"Such a proud dragonname you have, little kobold. Tell your people that I accept them into my kingdom. However, they must make themselves useful. We will soon enter a war of conquest where all kingdoms, tribes, and wastelands will be swallowed by my empire."

The priest's eyes fill with joy as I spread my wings and speak in a tone loud enough for the crowd behind him to hear as well.

"For soon, your people shall march upon this continent again, but not as beggars or wanderers, but as conquerors."

And then the thrilled crowd responds with a shout.

"All hail Akalani, Dragonlord of the Steppes of Darog. May your breath scorch the world in a searing blaze."