While strolling through Astrid plains, as I am wont to do, I came across a dying Kobold.  It was a very strange Kobold, with grey fur.  He beckoned me closer that I might hear his final words.  He whispered to me the tale of his life, that other might learn from it.

  This Kobold was born the runt of his litter.  An ordinary Kobold by all measure, though his smaller size doomed him to a life of servitude.  For Kobold, like Goblin, rank their society upon strength. The small and weak were all but ignored, left to live a solitary existence of servitude.

  Longing for acceptance, the runt trained hard to learn the Kobold arts of fighting, and was quite good for his small stature.  But no matter how skilled he became, he could not even win the attention of the Kobold he loved.  She would not even look at a mere runt.

  He tried many ways to impress her, for he was as an outcast, and wanted to be loved above all else.  His offerings of meat were tossed to the wolves.  His whimpers of devotion fell on deaf ears.  No matter what he did, she would not give him a first sniff.

  Despondent, he sought the advice of a mighty Shaman.  The Shaman cackled when the runt came to him for advice.  The small and weak were of little use... Unless.. perhaps...  A thought crossed the Shaman's mind, curling his fangs into a wicked smile.

  A plan had been forming between the Goblins and Kobolds.  The Goblins wanted the sneaky Kobolds to perform a theft to aid their war.  But the normal kobolds were not up to the task.  However, Kobold Shamans have access to dark magics.  Very dark.

  This runt was offered a chance to help his people and impress his love.  He would be the first to undergo a ritual designed to infuse Dark magic into the Kobold form.  Desperate for a chance to prove himself, the runt agreed.  The Shaman laughed with glee.

  The ritual was performed under the light of the moon in the ancient pentagram in the center of Astrid.  The Runt screamed in agony as the dark magics flowed into his veins.  His body grew and changed.  His tusks protruded, his muscles developed, and his fur turned grey.  When the ritual was done, the shamans examined their work, and were pleased.  The mere runt was now a powerful Dark Kobold.

  Several more Kobolds were thusly transformed, and sent out to perform their task for the Goblin War.  The horses of the Loures Guard were to be stolen, crippling the cavalry.  The theft went off smoothly, the weak pens of Piet and Tagor were no match for the brute strength of the Dark Kobolds.  Their bounty in tow, the empowered Kobolds headed to the woods for cover.

  Word of the theft spread fast.  Aislings were alerted to the problem.  They responded with swift and brutal force.  The Runt was horrified by the battle that ensued.  He saw his fellows being horribly slaughtered.  Aislings swarmed around them like ants and swung their weapons relentlessly.  Holy magics were summoned from the ethers, surrounding the Aislings in divine protection.  Arcane magics of elemental power were flung haphazardly towards the Kobold ranks.  Even the horses that the Aislings were supposed to be saving were slaughtered without mercy!

  Fleeing the bludlusting Aislings, the Runt ran.  These Aislings were some sort of monsters beyond his comprehension.  Even Kobold do not kill without cause.  But these killings.. It was almost as if the Aislings enjoyed reducing everything they could to the smallest possible bits.  The runt managed to return to Astrid, the only Kobold to survive the ill-fated horse napping.  But when he returned, he was shunned even more than he had been before.  Though he was no longer a small runt, he had failed. And that is worse than being weak.

  Poor Runt.  He was now freakishly huge, totally ostracized by his people, and his love would not even go anywhere near him.   Totally alone and unloved, he fell into despair.  He went back to the holy pentagram of Astrid and prayed to Arpina, the Kobold's goddess.  If any would show him compassion and love, surely she would.

  Arpina took pity upon this poor runt, and told him to enter the pentagram that she might deliver him from his pain.  The runt entered the mystic symbol.  As he tread on the hallowed ground,  the earth around his paws rose up and began to rip at his flesh.  He howled in pain.  Arpina spoke to him again, telling him that the pain would purify him.  Soon he would be with her, a Caroun most worthy.

  That is where I came across him.  His grey body ripped to pieces and his life quickly fading.  Despite all the pain and loneliness he felt in life, he bore no grudges, for he knew he would soon be with his goddess, and by the telling of his tale, he might help another from suffering his painful fate.

  He died at the edge of that ancient pentagram with a smile upon his monstrous fangs.  And with the telling of  his tale now ended, I have fulfilled his final wish.

  May we all learn a lesson from the tale of this poor runt's life.  His body may have been smaller, but his heart was bigger than any of his fellows.