Lair of the Dread Dragon Kortaza.

"RUN!" The kobold Chief yelled, they hadn't much time, the Adventurers won't be far.

How they felled The Dread Master, a grand and ancient dragon, older than their collective races history COMBINED was both astounding and terrifying.

They had to run, knowing the bloodlust of these glorified tomb-robbers they would not stop at just collecting a prize of their now former Master, they have a tendency to be very... thorough.

The kobold Chief swallowed, though it felt more like a chore than it should, but with the exodus of the remaining Tribe flooding into the tunnel, escaping the slaughter and butchery of their once Master and Living-God, everything right now felt far more difficult, he even had to remind himself to breathe lest he pass out and be trampled by his fellow kin. He stopped at a small home, little more than a hole in the wall, and ushered a mother with her clutch of eggs in a basket.

"Hurry! We don't have time, you ca..." He couldn't finish, with the Master now likely dead they couldn't afford to lose ANY eggs blessed with his essence, with FAR to little time he waves a bit of magic and fastens the basket to her back and gently but hurriedly pushes her in the direction of the tunnel.

"Go! GO! Quickly! Quickly!" The cavern shakes as their master lets out a final death-roar, any hope that he may have been setting a trap by faking his death dies with the last echoes of his roar, they were on their own now, and if they don't make it through the escape tunnel they will soon join him.

But they may already be too late, out the corner of his eye he can see two elves, noticeable by their lithe bodies, and graceful movements.

One was a forest elf, a bit more rugged then their more "civilized" kin from the cities and with a sheer incapacity to wear anything that isn't the colors brown, green, or a combination of both. The other was a city elf, more "refined" than their woodsy cousins, where the former is more martial the latter has an affinity for magic and books.

He can just FEEL the arrogance and disdain coming from them, to them this was nothing more than pest extermination, they did not care for the families or community that existed! To them they were just scaly beasts, monsters that harassed merchants and kidnapped arrogant royalty! Of course their now dead Master didn't help that reputation by doing exactly those things, but did they have to kill ALL of them? With the look on two figures faces ahead of them, some might enjoy killing them more than they should.

A human and dwarf blocked the tunnel mouth ahead, the human had white robes and what appeared to be a book of Holy magic in his hands, the sneer he had made no secret what he believed what he was doing was "just". The dwarf on the other hand had a manic smile on her face and was wearing so much heavy armor it was a miracle she could move at all, and held a great hammer in the shape of a rams head.

There was a fifth and sixth around somewhere, a gnome and halfling, he couldn't remember the difference at the moment, but no doubt looting the dead.

He'd spit in disgust if he didn't have more grave and pressing matters to attend to.

The exodus had stopped in fear at the group that had slain their God-Master.

With the elves on top of a overlook to their right, those two in front, and the others likely behind them, they were trapped.

"I doubt you'll need my services for this one Moira, but do try not let any escape would you?" The human uttered, his voice filled with boredom and disinterest.

"Aye, wouldn't want the GREAT Father Travis to actually do something that takes EFFORT, now would we?" The dwarf Moira said.

"Besides, the bounty says to clear the ENTIRE nest of the buggers! Course it'd be a bit easier if a couple of LOVEBIRDS WOULD GET OFF THEIR ASSES AND HELP!" She bellowed to the two elves, who looked pained and annoyed by her shouting.

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"With how big you are Moira why don't we just wedge you into the entrance and block them off!"

The wood-elf sporting stereotypical elven ranger garb of green cloth and leather, holding a longbow their race is renowned for shouted back.

"Don't interact with IT Seril, it won't leave us alone if you do." The city-elf dressed in white robes with a royal blue trim, holding a gold stave with a blue gem that glowed with magic stuck to the top, snapped at her kinsman.

"Shall we get to it then?" As answer the four readied their weapons and spells.

Then with a great yell the Den Mother and a pack of salamanders rush the human and dwarf, the human shouting as he fell ungracefully and the dwarf bringing her hammer to shield herself from the rush. Her hammer and armor glowing with runes, a rolling salamander barrels into her only to stop as if it had hit a stone wall, dazed long enough for the dwarf to bring her hammer around to smash the poor thing but is soon forced to rush to the human's defense as the salamanders and Den Mother press their assault.

The Chief turns, throwing up a hasty shield to counter a bolt of white lightning and arrow that the elves had launched, the looks on their faces would have been satisfying if not for the elven duo focusing their efforts into killing him.

Not to be outdone by the Den Mother's charge, the Trap Master leads a group of skirmishers and force the elves on the defense and switch targets.

"Go! Run to the tunnels!" With a shout from the Chief and their assailants distracted the throng surge forward to salvation, leaving the Den Mother and Trap Master to hold them off long enough to make it to open skies and ground where their chances of not dying would hopefully get better.

As the last kobolds went past the entrance the Chief turned and shouted.

"Den Mother! Trap Master! Hurry after us!" The Chief shouted back at his fellow underlings.

The Den Mother needed little encouragement as her and the salamanders bit off more than they could chew with the dwarf woman. Going from snapping and clawing at the dwarf and human, they've resorted to spitting acidic venom at them from a distance safely out of range of the bloodied ram's head, though the Chief could see the human had holes in his pristine robes and more than a few claw marks brought a smile to his face.

The Trap Master however was less inclined to leave the two elves so quickly, but with the clan safely in the tunnel and the Den Mother making a retreat to follow, him and his remaining skirmishers throw a last volley of javelins. The wood-elf dodging, though tripping on a slightly raised bit of stone, and the city-elf, distracted by her comrades clumsiness, got a thin cut along the cheek from a lucky skirmisher. The elves, shocked and dazed, allowed the Trap Master and his skirmishers to beat a hasty retreat with the rest.

"Glad to see you two made it." The Chief said. "What of the other groups?"

The Den Mother had a sad look on her face, "There are no other groups."

The Chief stared shocked, "None!?" he exclaimed.

"The Hatchery was one of the first things they hit when they broke through the Main Tunnel!" the look of pain on her face made him want to scream in rage, another time he thought.

"The other Quarters were little better." The Trap Master said. "What troops we had after." He paused. "After the Master fell, were put to fire by that witch-elf!" He spat.

"But the other tunnels?!" the Chief said in growing desperation.

"Gone." the other two said as one,

"This..." the Den Mother paused and collected herself, "This is all that's left."

The Chief could not believe it, so much so that he ran into the throng of kobolds that had stopped for some reason.

"Why have you stopped?! You should be run-" The Chief stopped as he climbed a nearby stone to see why, and saw the reason.

The tunnel was collapsed, and standing in front of the rubble stood the last two of the Adventure Group.

A halfling dressed in so much black cloth it looked like a walking sack and held two wicked looking serrated daggers.

A gnome that had many potions and elixirs strapped over normal clothes save for a pair of goggles, a leather apron and rubber gloves with one of said potions in one hand, red and fizzing angerly. The Chief did not want to know what it would do, but feared he'd soon find out.

"Oh dear, it seems your escape as been... disintegrated." The gnome laughed in an annoyingly high pitched and nasally voice.

"More like cut-off." The halfling's muffled voice said while twirling its instruments of death.

The Chief turned back to the entrance, only to see the four others had converged and formed up at their back, and that's when all hope died within the Chief. They were all going to die.

"No where left you little pests." Moira growled.

"The Goddess shall rejoice with your extermination vermin!" Father Travis shouted, though his tattered robes lessened the power of his voice somewhat.

The wood-elf's face was red either from embarrassment or rage he couldn't tell and the look from the city-elf could freeze a mountain's heart.

This was it.

This was the end for them the Chief thought solemnly.