Our original visit to Upper Fortis had been sidetracked by marvelous log rides and late night propulsions into the heavens. But it was time to get to the serious business of this dispute and I saw at once the root of the problem.

While their garments don’t speak of such, the Kobolds are fine innovators with a vast array of inventions for work and domicile. Even their dwellings speak to a fine sense of craftsmanship and durability. On the other hand, the Thugs and Bandits, owing to their nomadic and distrustful lifestyle have yet to master the art of hammer and nail. As such, their dwellings are a spectacular sight of disordered misery. Merely looking at their shanty village fills you with a sense of disease.

Further, since the Kobolds have chosen iron as their material of choice, they taunt the Thugs, who have yet to advance beyond simple wood planks, with catapults loaded with flaming cauldrons of oil. While I admit the fiery payload is an amusing jibe, it does come across as callous and a dash on the dangerous side. Should one of the projectiles be taken off course by a gust of wind, or have a touch too much vigor in it’s arc, the Thug shanty town will be a raging inferno. While that may serve those red sash wearing hooligans right, it will be a blight on the town and most certainly lower property values.

And upon further reflection, it could be considered a senseless waste since there will be no one to loot the bodies for coins and weapons.

I took it upon myself to discuss matters with a Kobold that looked to be in charge. I explained that sending balls of flame across the bridge to the tinderbox known as the thug encampment could lead to a terrible disaster and some might find this to be a cruel prank.

He ignored my reasoning and ordered more flame for the catapult. While it did look spectacular against the evening sky, I insisted this was an improper way to build relations with his neighbor. I offered that perhaps his people could help those less fortunate than themselves and guide the nomads in the ways of metal work and solid home building.

My argument was defeated by the clarion call of, "Fling!" as fire streaked across the sky.

Alley encountered the same resistance. Instead of working to help the Cabalist move off the side of the rocky crag, they felt teasing them with fire and accepting the occasional hit and destruction of their shelters was good clean fun and had no intentions of bringing the gaiety to an end. They even offered Alley a try at the launch arm of the catapult, of which I was much jealous.

It wasn’t a total loss though, I’ll be back for some more log rides and Alley was quite keen on the Air Powered Propulsion System.


Oh dear me, this will never do. I see why you chaps are living fear of those Kobold Catapults.


Now look here, I’m trying to help! If I wanted to cause a ruckus, I would merely cast Immolation and mock you for your poor choose in building materials.


Come now wolves, I have no time for this! This is a terrible place to settle a dispute.



Oh, steady on. I think I begin to see why the Thugs want to make this their base of operations.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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