Our tale begins deep in the South-East of the Kingdom of Glas, near the human town of Whatzakt, but has little to do with either of those entities, what we're interested in is the mountain beyond the town, the Lone Peak, a towering mountain separated from the mountain chain known as Vor's Spine. There, deep in the labyrinthine caves and tunnels below lies our focus, Emberscale Caverns, the wide reaching and sprawling home of the Emberscale clan of Kobolds.

This particular clan of Kobolds have deep crimson red scales with black markings on their heads, hands, and feet as well as the scutes that run along their spines and tails. Within one of these caverns lies the Elder's chambers, a place where the leaders of the clan congregate to discuss and plan. Like most places within the Cavern, the Elders Chambers is not particularly ornate or ostentatious, bare hewn walls and a floor smoothed by centuries of scaled feet more than intent, but it is large and furnished with wood, something traded for with the surface folk to obtain.

Here we find the Elder, Broodkeeper Korse who is in charge of the hatcheries where all Kobolds hatch and are cared for until adulthood. Elder Korse is speaking with the chieftain of the clan, Spiritcaller Ortik, "Chief, I'm concerned, I've never had an egg take this long, the festival is nearly here. The thing should have cracked weeks ago."

With a somewhat pensive look, which only another Kobold could really discern, the chief responds "sure it's not rotten? I don't want that stink in my caves if it is."

"No, it's not rotten. What do you take me for an apprentice? This is my 9th clutch as a Master Broodkeeper and there were dozens before that to get me here. It's still a little warm, just like it should be, and hasn't started to smell yet, otherwise I'd have fed it to the cave slimes already. I've had to put the thing on my table to keep its siblings from smashing it."

"Well then stop bothering me and do what you're supposed to, wait and let it do its thing." dismisses Ortik, "I'm too busy getting everyone ready for the festival to worry about a single tardy egg."

Back in the hatchery, Korse returns to a lone black egg sitting on the stone table he usually eats at, sat in a small ring of furs to keep it safe and off the cold stone. "Won't you just hatch already? your brothers and sisters are already tottering around and getting into trouble, so hurry up and join em." Though he doesn't know it yet, Korse will end up regretting those words eventually.

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As the day of the Festival of Emberscale approaches, when they give thanks Maladoxis Emberscale, the Garnet Tyrant, the great dragon for whom they are named, Spiritcaller Ortik has been becoming more and more agitated.

"My tail has been aching for 3 days straight at this point, that only happens when something big is coming. Ylst, Blonc, have your scouts found anything?"

Arcanist Ylst, the leader of the clans sorcerers and mages and elder in charge of all things magic, looks to her counterpart and fellow elder, Martial Blonc, the closest thing to a military leader that the relatively peaceful clan has, more likely to combat an incursion of badgers, a Kobolds favorite treat, than launch an assault, "We haven't found anything, not hide nor hair of anything out of place, especially no goblins or pesky adventurers anywhere near our tunnels." and receives a nod from Blonc.

"Well, something's amiss, my tails never wrong" as he gives it an idle scratch "Send the scouts up to Whatzakt, ask them if anythin's goin on. I'm gonna commune with the spirits, might take all night, but I'll be done before the feast starts tomorrow, I wanna know what this is before half your fighters are drunk and partying."

Ylst gives a quick "fine, fine, just don't use up all my slug ichor, I'm saving that for when my new apprentice Kore finishes figuring out how to inscribe a water rune. I'd call you an old fool for putting so much stock in your tail if it hadn't predicted that collapse a few years back. shame it didn't predict what happened to Korf a few weeks back..."

"Just the Culling at play, the miners were looking forward to seeing what that one could do in his apprenticeship. Oh well." Ortik dismisses, a hint of disappointment, but no sadness to be found. "Now shoo, I want to get this over with." as he begins gathering up animal bones, totems, a brazier and a large red-black chunk of garnet, seen as sacred amongst the clan for its likeness to the Tyrant's scales.

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The night passes and well into the next day just hours before the feast, a haze of smoke surrounding Ortik as he channels his abilities and skills, calling upon the elemental spirits, the ancestors, and even some of the darker spirits of the world to seek answers, he finds many answers, but none for him, an earth spirit delights in the coming of a major tremor half a world away, his ancestors decry the fall of a lesser clan far to the south, the dark spirits tell of a prophecy of the harbinger of the empty grave, the one whose flesh is twice taken, once by choice and once by force, which they've been talking about for centuries and will probably continue going on about for centuries more.

His communion, unfortunately quite fruitless in its results, was interrupted abruptly, as the pain within his tail spiked and broke his concentration, before fading to a dull memory. Ortik ends his ritual and disperses the called spirits before his lack of concentration can cause catastrophe, musing that if he's not careful he could cause the disaster his omen portended and rushes to find the other elders, unfortunately they have no answers either, not even the humans have any worries to explain the appearance or disappearance of this omen.

"Maybe I really am just getting old..."

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Several minutes earlier back in the Hatchery, Korse is becoming more excited, as finally the last egg is beginning to crack, as it wobbles in its ring of furs and the cracks begin to spiderweb across its black shell. Korse begins his preparations, bringing claw to a water rune above a stone basin to clean the soon to be newly hatched, the water trickles at a barely steady drip, the rune is nearly failing and will need to be re-inscribed, though they never last very long. Several minutes pass as beads of fluid leak down the sides of the egg from the various cracks and breaks until a small red snout begins to push its way through the shell, while little black claws pierce it and break apart the egg.

As the head is finally freed from the confines of its shell an unexpected sound cries out, a sound somewhere between the wraaahhh whine of a newborn human and the Wraahh sound a small child makes when imitating the roar of a dragon, echoes through the hatchery. While the little bundle of ferocity may have meant it to be intimidating, it came off more on the adorable side of things.

"My, my, aren't you a lively one for such a late sleeper. let's get a look at you" as Korse lifts the hatchling from the remains of its egg, dislodging a small section stuck upon its head, "A girl huh? and a bit on the small side, looks like we found the runt. Let's get you into the basin and clean this gunk off before you start eating it.

Now then, what am I to do with you? I can't very well put you in with your siblings yet, otherwise the Culling will get its next victim fairly quick. I guess no feast for me, I'll be staying here again tonight... Come on then, I'll get you some cave moss to nibble on and if you're good maybe even a nice crunchy beetle."

Like most reptiles, Kobolds hatch relatively able to function, at least physically, and begin crawling within just a few hours. They are however generally about as smart as the beetles they like to snack on for at least the first year or so, though some never grow out of it. So before long the little bundle is chasing a beetle, which Korse has removed the wings from to keep it a little easier for her, across a cave floor.

"Hah, that should keep ya busy for a bit and tire you out, maybe I will get to sneak off to the feast after all."

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Arriving at the Elders chambers the following morning, Korse most definitely did not get to sneak off to the feast and his absence was noted.

"Korse, where were you last night? Drink yourself under a rock so early I missed you?" Having barely entered the Elder’s chambers Korse already finds himself the butt of his peers' jokes, well some of them, the others are all a little too bleary eyed and looking a slightly paler shade of red after the previous night's revelry.

"No, no, I didn't get a drop... That last damn egg finally decided to hatch just before the feast, little runt of a girl, barely 24 centimeters long, couldn't leave her with the rest of the clutch or we'd be down another to the Culling by this morning."

"Why didn't you just have one of your minders sit with her then? That's what they're for." Laughs Ylst

"They were all out helping with the feast, or had their own clutches to watch, it was easier than tryin to drag one of em back. With that one finally cracked it makes a full 63, not a single bad egg from the bunch. Though we're already down 2. Still pretty good." Korse shakes his head while rubbing the top of his muzzle, "The little thing should have a pretty good shot, caught 3 beetles before I finally tired it out on the last one by leaving the wings..."

This finally gets Blonc's attention, "A scrapper huh? Hope she makes it, so I get a shot at training her."

"I'm going to put her in with her siblings this morning and see how she does. You're welcome to come watch, but you know the rules, no betting on hatchling fights."