I take one last look at my house. Sure, it wasn't exactly the house I grew up in, but given how often kobold villages get destroyed, that was no surprise to anyone. I then look towards where I was heading, a bar, typically a gathering place where I might be able to find someone to help me out. Of course, said bar was in another village, so, I wasn't exactly looking AT it, just in its general direction. I then finally head off after a bit more hesitation than I'd like. I notice a few humans on the road ahead, a monk, a black mage, an archer, and a white mage, so, I try my hand at hiding, and thankfully, they weren't paying too much (if any) attention to the road, and just passed on by, ignoring me. [i]That was close... one human's enough, but FOUR? That's insane![/i] I think as I make sure they're far enough away from me so that I can continue, and jump out of my hiding spot, continuing through the plains which separated my village from the next. I take a quick look at my rapier, looking for any sort of name that might have been scrawled on there so I might identify just who the sword belonged to, and find a faint marking... 'Skl__ra' on it. Some of the letters were unreadable, unfortunately, meaning that I still couldn't identify who this sword belonged to. It was actually kind of important that I identify the rapier, as it belonged to one of the last few black-scaled kobolds, who were well-known for living next to human cities, and being the main source of information of human technology back when we weren't being hunted down, well, them and the grey-scaled kobolds. I'm sure that the community would appreciate if I could tell which one of our kind has died in yet another invasion, especially if they were as important as a black-scale.

Of course, I had no such luck, given that somehow, the scrawlings were faded. Maybe whomever I took it from was also a very old kobold, which would be another reason why I'd want to identify the previous owner. I eventually stop looking at the rapier, and stop agonizing over the fact that I can't read the latest name that was scrawled on it, and simply continue heading towards my goal, with the local wildlife being unusually docile for some reason. It was a rather uneventful walk to the bar, labeled 'The Murky Gumbo', and it takes just a little bit of time for me to work up the courage to enter the place, given that I made myself a little more afraid of the place than I should thinking that I wouldn't meet the most law-abiding of folk in this particular place, but once I entered, my sense of smell was assailed by the smell of, well, something? I couldn't tell what it was that they were serving so much that the place stunk of it, and my smell seemed to betray me as it smelled somewhat meaty, and yet, looking at it, it was apparently green? A few thugs were talking about some cave with treasure, and were apparently recruiting folk from all over using this place as a sort-of-hub, for some reason. They must have noticed me, as the next thing they did was ask "So, you can't deny it, you've heard of our plans. Ya wanna join us on this expedition?" I then looked at my cup of water, which I assumed everyone though was some sort of clear alcoholic drink, and hesitated on an answer. "Well?" The somewhat large, brown-scaled kobold asked me from my hesitation. I then answer with "No. I'm kind of on my own quest. One for peace," that was apparently hilarious to him, as he started laughing, and didn't stop for two minutes, eventually getting his friends to join him in his laughter.  

I decide to ignore them and continue waiting for others who might actually join me, eventually tasting the, well, they called it 'gumbo', but I still wasn't sure exactly WHAT it was. The flavor was literally all over the place, making it nearly impossible for me to tell what this stuff was made with. Every spoonful tasted different, as well, which only served to confuse me. I eventually gave up on trying to tell what was in it, and just asked "Sir, what exactly is IN this?" The bartender, a sandy-scaled kobold who was shorter than I was, replied with "Heh, it's a secret, kid. Yeah... secret recipe. I don't want some other bar takin' our recipe, so I can't just tell any old kobold what's in it. Heck, for all I know, you're workin' for 'em," his voice was unusually deep, and the look in his single eye told me that I really shouldn't have asked that question. I then reply with "Oh, um, sorry sir," which causes him to turn around and start mixing some sort of drink, just as he was before I asked him. I drink some of the water, noting that it's actually surprisingly pure, given that I'm now in a landlocked village, rather than one near a source of water, as I was used to. At some point during the mixing process, the bartender's tail knocks over my bowl of gumbo, and he says, in a very mocking tone "Oh, excuse me," I knew he did that on purpose, but I wasn't exactly in a position to call him out on it, as it almost seemed as if he had the local thugs on his side. I didn't exactly feel as though I should, or could fight them at this point, so, I didn't make a scene of it, and just continued drinking my water, which was, thankfully free. The gumbo, of course, was a paltry 1 bronze, which means that I had to give up my only coin so I could eat here.