The sight that greeted him both surprised him and did not, as he had learned now to expect the unexpected. The room he had appeared in seemed to be a hall of some sorts with tables and chairs all around and all being inhabited by an array of creatures. All around the hole were singed wooden tables and chairs which seemed to have been thrust outwards from where he appeared. At the far end of the hall was a stage and either side of the stage was a door. In the corner, he saw some people, one of whom was riding upon a giant hamster. Surrounding him was group of very different individuals that being a Dragonborn, a Halfling, a Human, a Dwarf and a Genasi.

“Who are you, and why have you come here” one of them demanded.

“My name is Morros Sapientem, Kobold of the northern mountains. Loyal to none but Kurtlemak. Husband to a murdered wife, father to a murdered son, brother to a murdered tribe, and I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next!” He smirked as he said his name, as sapientem was the Kobold word for cunning, not that they would know it.

In turn, they appeared to be expecting a request of their names from him, but instead, he turned around and sat on an empty chair in front of a plate of mutton and gravy next to a young child slightly taller than Morros. He started scoffing away at the delicious meat, this being the first bit of real food in an age. The child to his left squawked,

“Why are you eating without cutlery? You are very rude.”

In response, a fatigued and very angry Morros tilted his head slightly and growled coarsely towards the child. The frightened child immediately buried his head in his mother’s skirt who promptly carried him to the far end of the table, away from Morros. Eyeing the opportunity, he dragged the bowls of food that the mother and the child had left behind and ate those too. He then grabbed at a mug full of broth and held it high above his head, letting the ale spill into his mouth and around him. He was finally getting his first chance to relax in a long, long while.

The beings that had first surround him by the hole now walked over to him. They introduced their names as Syllanval, Webley, Riptide, Fenrir, and Taran (not that Morros could be bothered to remember them) and then they said in union:

“And we are the Knights of Braveheart”

They paused for a moment, as if to see realisation or awe spread across Morros’ face, only to be disappointed by the lack of knowledge of whom they were. Morros continued to ignore them and ate more food; they could wait, the new plate of delicious Sheppard’s Pie, which was just served, could not. Suddenly, a booming voice sounded from outside the hall. “You there of whom inhabit this hall. You will hand over the Kobold immediately to the guards of Kennerheim who are outside the hall. If you do not comply with these demands, you shall by terminated!”. “Hell” one of the party members cursed, and they quickly huddled together, the crowds on the tables around began to look really frightened but stayed silent as the group talked. Morros could only hear snatches of their conversation but enough to get the gist of what they were saying.

“These are … Kennerheim, … no way … fight them”, “But we can’t … hand … Kobold over to …, They’ll kill …” Another member hissed a reply, the halfling in fact. “Here’s what … do, grab … and hold … and … talk with them … negotiate” Morros, hearing this, began to feel as though they were going to betray him.

“Y-you can’t just h-hand me over to them,” Morros stammered, “They’ll kill me!’

“What did you do to get them to hunt you?” one of them asked,

“I don’t know, all I did was drink a drink that was sparkly purple stuff as I was thirsty and now, they’re trying to kill me for it. They only have themselves to blame, after all, if they hadn’t just left it lying in the open, we’d all be just fine.” Morros answered.

“Wait, a sparkly purple drink, you didn’t drink electrum, surely?”

“I don’t even know what electrum is but if it gives you these fancy wings, then yes perhaps I did.’ Morros replied.

“Oh, my goodness, we’re going to have to hand him over.”

Morros felt a stab near his heart, if he ever got out of this alive, he’d exact a revenge upon these people too. They were handing over him to people they knew were going to kill him. And they called Morros the monster.

Morros took off with his wings, finally getting the hang of flying and shouted to them,

 “If you’re going to hand, me over, you’re going to have to catch me first. I’m not just going to be handed over like a pig served on a silver platter.”

As he flew up, Morros looked over the room at all the people around him. Some of the mercenaries tried to grab him, and failed, another was herding the crowd to an upstairs room away from the danger. The last party member was talking to a crossbow-wielding orc that had been riding a giant hamster, these two then exited the building stealthily through one of the doors next to the stage.

What felt like moments mere later, they came back with two of the guards, a gnome and a dwarf. It appeared as though the halfling and his partner had negotiated to hand over Morros. The partner quietly leaned over to the halfling whom Morros thought was called Webley, and whispered something. Webley then span around and shot an arrow at one of the guards, striking him through one of the gaps in his armour, before running for cover behind a table. The rest of his party members, seeing what happened, also leapt into the combat. Morros landed near the corner of the room, his electrum wings folding neatly behind his back, hoping to sneak out when he realised that both of the guards attentions were focused on him. He saw the gnome, the hated enemy of the Kobolds, as they had ended the Kobold empire and killed Kurtlemak, and pure hatred filled his body and he channelled it at the gnome. A dark purplish mist clouded the gnome for seconds and seconds later, it was dead. Morros was so surprised at what he had just done that he took a step back on forgot that the fight was raging onwards. Even magical grenades exploding and sparking about him did not stir him from this mysterious trance. He had just summoned magic, like the Kobold sorcerers, if not even more powerful, and yet he had never had magic before. The power that he had attained had strengthened him unimaginably and it was a power that he was never going to give away. It was his, all his, only his.

It was only as the Dwarf died that Morros really came back to. Morros reviewed what he had done in the past few days. He had had his tribe slaughtered, ran through the sewers, gained unimaginable power been chased by guards, participated in a feast, scared a child and fought for his life against and with the Knights of Braveheart and against the Kennerheim guard. And now, after all of that, he knew that his life had just begun.