Wrath of the Kobold King

And Meeting an Old 'Friend'

Phe’lyx wiped the soot from his brow, only to find that his sleeve had been burned away to the elbow by the dying breath of Merlokrep, the Kobold King. “Bloody kobolds and their ‘blood of dragons,’” thought Phe’lyx angrily. He made a mental note to discern how Merlokrep had actually managed to breathe fire as he approached the line of kobolds blocking the passage that Ashen had—foolishly—run down.

“You fought as kings,” the new kobold leader—Kapmek?—was saying to Zorag as Phe’lyx approached. “They fight as shamans. The strongest will walk away.”

Sighing with agitation, Phe’lyx knew the fool human was surely in over his head and needed assistance. There was no time for the superstitions and archaic rituals of these pathetic lizards.

The elven wizard stepped directly up to Kapmek. “Fortunately,” he said with dripping sarcasm, “I also fight as a shaman.” He took a step forward, and with a quick word found himself twenty feet down the corridor and past the line of kobolds. The confused yaps of the creatures told him that his little trick had worked perfectly.

A golden light shone from the cavern ahead, and as Phe’lyx entered the area, he found Ashen rolling on the ground, scimitars slicing at unseen foes as two red-scaled kobolds looked on with amusement. Quickly surveying the room, the source of the golden light immediately became clear. The Tanner boy, encircled by a column of light, was huddled behind a crude stone altar that was stained with the fresh blood of elf. The unknown figure’s chest was ripped open and his body adorned with many small cuts. Attempting to pry through the column with his claws was the familiar kobold, Tartuk.

The purple-scaled kobold looked up as Phe’lyx entered the room. “You, too?” he said in exasperation. The other kobolds looked to him for leadership. “Kill the elf! Quickly!”

One kobold dodged past the slashing form of Ashen and stabbed at Phe’lyx with his spear. Parrying the strike neatly, the wizard pushed the creature off balance and dropped his quarterstaff. Spinning aside with elven grace, he quickly drew his bow and put an arrow right between the creature’s eyes before erecting a magical shield and deflecting the thrown javelin of the other kobold.

In a contest of speed, the kobold stood no chance, and before it could draw another javelin, it found an arrow embedded in its chest.

Dropping the bow, Phe’lyx muttered an incantation, and three bolts of magical energy flew from his outstretched hand and flew unerringly for Tartuk, but the purple kobold had his own magical tricks, and a transparent shield rose up and sparked brilliantly as the missiles crashed into it.

Phe’lyx mentally recounted his available spells today, and realized that he was running out of options. “Alright, Ashen, it’s time to wake up,” he muttered sardonically as the priest flailed on the ground…


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