Midnight creeped over the city. Rughoi tensed, looking at the mighty but slowly crumbling walls of Traeton. Everything was in place exactly as he had been planning since the very beginning of his empire. Somehow, in the back of his head, he always felt like something was going to go wrong. Rughoi sighed, and stilled himself. The price of leadership, perhaps. As he raised the large horn to his mouth to signal the attack, he saw, to his annoyance, a sharp trembling in his claw. Where does this hesitation, this weakness, come from? Steeling himself, he raised it and blew on it with all his might. Hopefully Largon's men heard that.

Chaos erupted on the wall posts. The sound of screaming, the clatter of steel on steel, resonated throughout the city and into the surrounding desert. With a shout, Rughoi drew his sword from its place at his side, and pointed it towards the weakest point of the wall according to Kutur's analysis. Wordlessly and without hesitation, the kobold ranks under him began advancing on the wall. All the fear in him drained out, to be replaced with exultation. Such excitement!