Of Gods and Man - Wallace's Gambit Ch.4

After many months, fraught with avoiding peril, the adventurers drew ever closer to the mountain range of the freezing north, long home to the dragons and their many clans, yet as the daunting mountainside loomed overhead, they took note of the many large figures already in flight, darting about in circles not unlike buzzards scouting their next carcass.
"Seems they're whipped up into a frenzy as well. This won't be easy. Have we even considered what we're going to say to the dragons when we meet them?" A solemn question posed by Relomas, generally young and carefree, now showing signs of tension and fear.
"We could ask them how they like to cook their turkeys!" A light hearted quip posed by Lalia, a Halfling who thought with her stomach. With laughter, she was met with a quick reply.
"Oh, I'll bet my silver's worth you won't!"
"Or maybe they'll say that they like their turkey like they like their Halflings: Extra crispy!" The other two Halflings chimed in. Once they began their little jokes, like any good Halfling, it was hard to stop them.
However, an effective way was an arrow that shot past their head, nearly catching Vigo in the cheek.
"Kobolds..." Senera spoke with due venom in her voice, elven eyes narrowing at the yipping figures that began to duck into a cave transfixed in the side of the mountain.

by John Tedrick

She cursed herself, mentally, for not predicting the vermin, after all, Kobolds were oft to worship dragons as some sort of supreme being. This reverence was considered proper and even enviable, given similarities between the two. Indeed, if Goblins were diminutive Orcs, Kobolds were smaller, dumber, and ultimately weaker dragon kind, yet it were these disadvantages that fueled their greatest strength: Their understanding of their tenuous mortal coil and the lengths they would go to survive.
"Perhaps they'll grant us a quick death..." Lobir, the dwarven cleric in their party stated with all of the mirth one could find at a funeral procession. Dwarves were known for their dour, and unflinching in the best of times, but Lobir's melancholy, hopeless attitude made even the most depressive seem chipper in comparison.
"I'm afraid now's not a good time." Toren replied, visibly concerned with the swarm of dragons that flew about overhead, clearly whipped into a frenzy. "If we intend to reach the king, that cave is our only option. I don't like it any more than you do, but time is of the essence."
Motivated by the potential of Ayn's impending doom, the group quickly jogged into the mouth of the cave, pausing to light a torch.
"Well, I just wanted to let everyone know that, by my calculations, we have a 12% chance to survive." A statement that Knalalumper was quick to rectify when upon stepping further in, a foot would catch a tripwire, dropping a precariously dangling pot from overhead to shatter upon the floor and spread its inky black substance in a pool on the floor, "...8%."


And when he saw the kobold, standing in an uplifted alcove, reveal itself by lighting its arrow ablaze, he gulped, "...5%!"
The arrow hit the pool of oil with frightening precision, creating an explosion so close that it singed a few beard hairs, and ignited their need to survive. Immediately they dashed further in, ducking under arrow, dart, even thrown debris. Fortunately, what few kobolds were caught in the open were easy to dispatch, certainly not known for their combat prowess.
The echoes of footfall, sword collisions, and ceaseless yipping echoed down the cavern walls. So entrenched were these creatures that small slits, no wider than a forearm, were bore into the area, aided by a system of tunnels for the kobolds to run between to take advantageous shots at the interlopers. It was by a miracle that they managed upon a moment of respite, ducking into an indentation to avoid the latest slew of thrown rocks, which just happened to also serve as a blind spot, out of the line of sight of any would be combatants.
"Is everyone alright?" Relomas questioned, rubbing at his own bruise atop his arm, and while the general consensus seemed to be 'yes', it was a exhaustion laden response at best. The best of the group had but a few scratches, and the worst were wrapping linens around their cuts. It was during this reprieve that Vigo, while scuffing his boot against the surface of a nearby nook to clean some substance gathered on it, he discovered just how decrepit the wall near them really was.
"Tiamera's luck!" He expressed, using the front of his boot to hollow away at the vulnerability, creating a hole just large enough for the group to crawl through one at a time, and considering the other alternative was to dart about the labyrinthine underground with equal parts reckless heed to direction as safety, this seemed to be the better option. And so they crawled, relieved that they were no longer under fire, but uncertain to their fate and where this tunnel led...No doubt a collapsed shaft, once used by their diminutive aggressors.
Eventually, through one of the holes made to progress, dim light would begin to pour into the otherwise dark tunnel, inciting not only hope, but curiosity.
"What do you see?"
"What's ahead?"
"Quit pushing!"
Each more curious than the last. However, they were able to ease themselves free and view the spectacle.

Below them, in a makeshift pit born from natural rock formation, settled hundreds of kobolds, all dancing, banging drums, and performing their signature barks and yaps about a giant totem and adjacent bonfire. The totem was roughly hewn and craved in the likeness of different dragons, with varying dyes splattered haphazardly to help signify which was which. The event was led by one adorned in bones and fashioned with gaudy fetishes and feathers appearing less as a source of charisma and well defined leadership, and more as the loudest raving lunatic in a concert of fellow madmen.
The celebration served well to mask their retreat as, with backs pressured against the wall, they shuffled along the steep incline overhead. Yet as they neared the end, Lobir, whom was picking up the rear, felt his heel give way on a loose stone that clacked and clambered down below and it wasn't long before he followed, toppling towards the sea of kobolds who took notice of their plight with a mighty yell that reverberated down the halls. In his descent and resolution of his faith, however, his forearm was grabbed, Toren'Domir's hand gripping it with desperation.
"Let me go. My time has come..." The Dwarf spoke, yet his wish may have very well come true. An arrow struck true from all of the calamity below, piercing Toren's shoulder and causing him to cry out in agony.
"I will not release you. You have to live!" He did not have to suffer alone, however, and with the other's grabbing at the Elf and pulling him onto the nearby ledge and assisting in swinging Lobir in with him.


"Hurry. Steel yourselves. They'll be onto us soon." Truer words never spoken, it seemed, as the harrowing yips and howls emitting from not far off caused the hair on their arms to stand at end.
Despite the near death experience, the group found renewed vigor in their adrenaline fueled sprint, rushing down the smooth, concave bore path, thankful that they were creating a rather large distance between the surge, granting them the ability to pause, each with their hands atop their knees, breath ragged and labored.
"Do you think we lost them...?" A member questioned, only for the ground to tremble, forcing them to steady themselves lest they fall prone to the tremors.
"No. I think they're just done playing around..." Senera's dark words fell grim to the party when she pointed a finger at a daunting realization.
The way that they came was blocked suddenly...A mass had fallen behind them and shrouded the tunnel they darted into, but it wasn't a door or some natural debris. It was a boulder easily thrice their size, with no wiggle room. They had fallen into their trap, and were destined to be squashed. There was no choice but to pick up the pace and continue running, despite their exhaustion.
Leaping over rubble, using their hands to swat away at underground foliage, and even stumbling a bit, they pushed themselves for the sake of survival...There was no arguing with the unstoppable force behind them, but fortunately, as if the tunnel was fashioned like some sort of garbage chute, there was an end in sight...a lip upwards...a ledge that seemed to lead into nothingness...quite possibly a leap into the abyss.
Even with the potential danger, the group never halted to consider and instead took a mighty leap, tumbling and rolling upon the cavern floor they landed upon. A cloud of dust surrounded them, eliciting coughing not just from the air, but from the rough landing that was sure to knock the wind out of them.
Yet from the dust shimmered two eyes, and a mighty bellow rang forth.

"Who dares disturb mine slumber?"