Running through the cool night air had helped to clear her head. Fendryys jogged to a halt and sat down against an old, craggy stump. She sighed and wiped her brow, dragging sodden stray hairs from her face. “What do I do now?” she spoke aloud to herself. She cursed herself for her childishness. Throwing a tantrum and running away wasn’t the way she normally acted. She sighed again.
Fendryys reached into her pocket and pulled out a small clockwork device. Twisting a couple knobs on it’s side, it sprang to life in the palm of her hand. Unfolding, it formed the shape of a small squirrel, and as it’s gears softly whirred it began to move and preen itself as though it were a living thing. “What do I do now, my little pet?” she asked again, this time to the mechanical squirrel. The clockwork didn’t respond, nor did she expect it to.
She heard a rustling through the forest behind her, and as reflex she turned about, crouching and peering around the old stump. Through the gloom she saw a small band of kobolds making their way through the forest. Iconic candles mounted on helmets or strapped to foreheads, they appeared to be a hunting party of some sort. Fendryys’ hand reached to her waist, and she cursed herself when her grasp came up empty. Her sword at home, forgotten in her heated rush into the night, she reached down into her boot and pulled out a small dirk.
Normally the kobolds that lived near her home were a more passive sort, but these hideous creatures, foraging at this late hour were likely of the braver and more violent variety that lived to the south. Fendryys knew, as they seemed to approach her very hiding spot, that the vermin would not take kindly to a surprise in the dark.
She pressed her body as close to the shadow of the stump as she could, not in the mood for any confrontation. She’d faced the occasional rogue kobold with proper weapons in hand, but not an organized group in the middle of the night, with little more defense than a crude knife.
They approached her hiding place, making their crude snuffling noises. Fendryys thought they might actually pass her by, but then she saw her forgotten squirrel on the exposed ground, it’s mechanisms glinting in the meager moonlight as it whirred and preened itself. She tried to grab at it quickly enough to not be seen, but she froze as she saw the kobolds discover her movement. Four sets of eyes blinked in surprise for a moment, which she instinctually turned to her advantage.
Fendryys lunged forward, setting upon the largest of the group first. One arm plunged the dirk into the creature's chest, knocking it backwards to the ground. In the same motion she snatched up the kobold’s crude sword in her other hand as she vaulted over it’s dying body, landing beyond it facing the other three, a weapon bared in each hand. “You kill Candle-lord!” one of the kobolds cried out in their broken tongue, and the three lunged forward at their assailant.
Fendryys’ sword parried a swing from the leftmost creature as the dagger plunged into the striking arm of the rightmost one, causing it to howl in agony, dropping it’s own weapon. Dodging aside the third’s attack, she whirled about and plunged the sword into the creature’s throat.
Springing past the falling body she faced again the remaining two. The first one was closer than she expected, but she parried several attacks before running the creature through. The final one began to run away, and Fendryys threw the dirk after it. The blade buried itself into the kobold’s back, and the creature fell dead into a pile of brush.
