An epic story for  eldrikke, featuring his kobold mage, Rizzell, and his heroic quest to save his guild from destruction! This was a fun one to work on; hope you like it!

Rizzell ©  eldrikke
Story © c'est moi

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The bells rang for five in the morning, and Rizzell grumbled as he woke up. He was always the first one awake in the Tower of the Order, and his list of duties were the longest.

He peered into the shards of glass that passed for his mirror, rubbing his canine-like muzzle and short, horned crest, then splashing water on his umber scales. “The floors aren’t going to clean themselves, right, Vanraven?” the kobold sighed, smiling sadly as he petted the ratty gryphon doll that sat on his nightstand. “Well, actually…” he muttered to himself, grabbing a large peacock feather quill he was almost never without. He was halfway to drawing out a spell, but then decided against it. He could only imagine how Lord Master Naomal, the guild leader, would react to him dabbling in experimental magic. The Lord Master didn’t care for certain races studying the magic of his order; especially kobolds.

Rizzell gathered his supplies, and opened his door to the cavernous hallways of the tower; he lived in the broom closet, which at least made it easy to get to his duties. Besides, it’s not like he needed a lot of room when he only stood at two and a half feet. The guild, Waterdeep’s Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors, had been the kobold’s home since he was young, but the guild never made him feel at home. Half the guild wanted to drive him out like a pest, and the other half wanted to perform experiments on him. Apparently, the two sides settled on a compromise, and kept him on as a live-in custodian.

His long list of chores took all morning, and many of the mages treated him as a nuisance, even while he was engaged in tasks they specifically asked for. Guildsenior Levallandra, a particularly haughty high elf, had the most delightful name for him: “that disgusting little creature.” As in, “that disgusting little creature is touching my collection of Bralani artifacts again, will someone just enthrall the wretched thing already so it does as it’s told?”

Archmage Torvus, one of the secondary leaders of the guild, was much nicer to Rizzell, at least. Almost a little too nice, as a matter of fact. While the kobold was cleaning Torvus’ laboratory, Torvus peppered him with questions that struck Rizzell as a little too personal. “How often do kobolds shed their scales? Does the reddish-brown coloring mean anything particular? Do you have them lying around? Do you need to trim your toenails? When was the last time you had a bout of bloodletting, do you mind if I were to…?”

Rizzell made his excuses. After the laboratories was his favorite part of his day; the library. The order’s library was one of the most extensive along the Sword Coast, with thousands of books retained over thousands of years, covering every subject from history, natural sciences, and enchanting to the complete works of Deekin Scalesinger, the world’s only known kobold bard. The last one was a particular favorite of Rizzell’s.
The library was a beautiful place. Vast, cavernous, with its walls adorned with beautiful murals and high windows pouring in light, it was like a cathedral. The library was also guarded by an intimidating guardian; tall, muscular, and imposing, Librarian Urlgen the half-orc seemed to be hewn from the very stone that built the tower. He was ugly as sin according to the other members of the guild, but Rizzell had grown accustomed to him, and his famous temper.

“You dust the divination section?” Urlgen rumbled, rolling his boulder-sized shoulders.

“Yes, sir,” Rizzell grinned tightly at the mountainous creature. He was no more than a third of Urlgen’s height.

“And the artifact collection?”

“Organized everything, didn’t touch the enchanted objects.”

Urlgen crossed his arms, testing the limits of his sleeves as his muscles tensed. “You did last time.”

Rizzell crossed his arms back. “Well, I didn’t.”

“I’ll check.”

“I know.”

Urlgen let out a dry chuckle. “Alright, fair enough. You work hard, kobold. Here.” He knelt down, offering a heavy tome. “Alteration of the Body and Mind, by Elminster Aumar himself. He had some fascinating insights on the school of Alteration; he was supposed to do all kinds of things to a person’s body. Granting warriors strength, healing wounds… see if you can make any use of it with Aubrin’s old quill.”

The kobold grinned. Urlgen had been friends with Aubrin, Rizzell’s old master. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“And if you happen to be cleaning Levallandra’s room in the near future, and you happen to clean up some of her hoard of Evermead…”
Rizzell nodded, winking. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good man.”

Carrying the large book in his arms, Rizzell struggled with it and all his cleaning supplies, and tripped just outside of the Lord Master’s quarters, his belongings spread out over the floor. The kobold swore under his breath, scrambling to pick everything up. Ducking down, he caught a glimpse of a worrying sight; red robes dappled with black runes. The robes of the Red Wizards of Thay.

“...don’t cross us, Naomal. Szass Tam will not stand for insult.”

“Szass Tam can take my reply however he wants; the answer is still no.” That was the Lord Master. Rizzell inched closer.

“You’ll regret not joining us. The Watchful Order is no match for the Zulkirs of the Red Wizards.”

“Yes, well, now that you’ve dropped all pretense of good manners, kindly leave my tower.”

The kobold scrambled back from the door as it was thrown open by an indignant looking man with a shaved head, his rich red and black robes billowing behind him.

Lord Master Naomal drummed his fingers on his desk, each one adorned with an enchanted ring that he coveted above all else. Then, his sharp, gray eyes narrowed on Rizzell. “What are you doing creeping about, you blasted little fiend?” he growled at the kobold.

The small creature bowed his head.“J-just putting my cleaning supplies away, Lord Master.”

“Well? This isn’t the broom closet, you imbecile. Get out of my sight.”

Rizzell grabbed all his belongings, rushing to his broom closet and slamming the door shut as quickly as he could. A Red Wizard in the tower? That couldn’t possibly bode well.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he muttered, then turned to the gryphon doll still staring at him from his dresser. “Right, Vanraven?” The kobold frowned a bit when the gryphon inevitably didn’t answer before pouring over the book Urlgen had loaned him, eventually nodding off.

The bells rung for five in the morning, and Rizzell willed himself awake. Patting Vanraven on the head, he grabbed his cleaning supplies and started on his chores. He had taken some notes from the book on Alteration, toying with an idea to make him just a little taller. If he could be a few inches taller, he would actually be able to reach some of the shelves he needed to dust. And if he were just a little stronger… the school of Alteration governed everything from changing hair color to turning lead into gold, and Elminster’s insights on it were inspired.

His thoughts on developing new spells carried him through most of his morning chores. However, around nine in the morning, long after the rest of the guild should have finished breakfast, the kobold realized that he hadn’t seen another guild member. When he reached the great hall, it was just as clean as he had left it last night.

Rizzell shook his head, and checked an enchanted clock that could always be relied on. He definitely hadn’t woken up early. Or worse, far too late. “Where is everyone?” he muttered, dropping his supplies. He rushed to the private quarters of the high-ranking guild members, and each one was empty, even Lord Master Naomal’s rooms. As far as he could tell, he was the only one in the tower.

“Alright…” the kobold started to pace. “I can’t panic. The whole guild is missing. There’s no sign of struggle… but they didn’t just leave of their own accord.” Rizzell had a dark thought and immediately rushed to the entrance of the tower, struggling to open the door. When he finally pulled the towering oak door open, he saw that the city of Waterdeep seemed to be going about its daily business. Crowds of citizens, nobles, and traders milled the streets, none of them showing any concern.

Rizzell ran down the courtyard to the crowd milling about, poking his head through the large iron gate marking the entrance. “Uh— excuse me, dwarf?”

A red-haired dwarf arched his brow. “What do you want, lizard?”

“Did, uh. Did anything happen last night?”

The dwarf crossed his arms. “Like what?”

The kobold sighed, spreading his arms. “Anything that would involve a lot of magic?”

“There was somesuch or other over at the Red Enclave. A big flash of red light. But you know Red Wizards.”

“A little too well…” Rizzell muttered, rushing back inside the tower. He ran to the library, eerily quiet without Urlgen’s towering presence, and wormed his way past the fence that marked the restricted section. The kobold poured over a book written by the Zulkirs, the leaders of the Red Wizards and rulers of the dark country of Thay. He soon found what he was looking for; their portal magic. A whole chapter detailed step-by-step instructions on how to create remote portals to ensnare and kidnap political rivals. The Wizards of Thay were known for their shady dealings; if they managed to steal away the entire guild, it made the kobold shiver to think of what they would do with them all. The Watchful Order may not have been the kindest to him, but he never wished any harm on them.

“Then it’s up to me,” he muttered with determination. He gathered all he would need; his enchanted quill, scrolls, and the notes he had taken from Urlgen’s book. He might be testing those new spells sooner than he thought. As he ran back to the main gate, he left a note on its hinges for the city watch that would be by in an hour. He wanted a head start before the Red Wizards knew the guard would be coming, but he wanted someone to know that the most powerful mage’s guild in Waterdeep had suddenly disappeared.

Weaving through the crowds of the city, Rizzell kept his hooded cloak wrapped around him tight. It was unlikely any of the Red Wizards were even aware he existed, but still, he wasn’t going to put anything to chance. His destination was the Thayan Embassy, where the Red Wizards had their enclave. It was under heavy guard, but if there was one place the guild members were taken, it had to be there.
The embassy was a tall, imposing building, with high stone walls adorned with red and black banners draped from the parapets. Getting inside would be easy; Rizzell was thin and wiry, and he easily slipped through the iron grates used for draining rainwater. He clung to the walls, inching back from the main entrance under heavy guard. The main building was opulent in its ornamentation, an overly wrought gothic manor with high, pointed arches and garishly ugly statues.

The kobold saw his chance when he spotted a second story floor window open to coax in a breeze. A particularly hideous gargoyle would serve as a good platform, but try as he might, Rizzell couldn’t jump high enough. Sighing in frustration, the kobold pulled out his quill and drew out the spell he was experimenting with. The glowing red magicka hummed in the air as he added the finishing touches on his design, and then it disappeared with a rush of power, seeping into him. Light and warmth spread through his body, energy building up in every limb, then he felt it released. His body was stretched out in every direction, and his clothes tightened around him; he hadn’t planned for that. By the time it had passed, he leaned against the wall until he could catch his breath. If he had to guess, he was now three feet tall. But more surprising to him, he felt sturdier. His arms and legs had built up with new, sinewy muscle, and he patted his chest, now harder and wider.

“I’ll… I’ll definitely need to remember that one,” he breathed, marveling at the effects. And how good he felt. He had never felt strong before, and the rush was exhilarating as he leapt into the air and pulled himself up on the gargoyle, then hoisted himself up into the window. He landed in the corridor on both feet, but immediately regretted it when he noticed the red-robed, hooded figure he had landed right in front of.

“...Rizzell?”

The kobold relaxed immediately, relieved to hear a familiar voice. “Asima!” he gasped. Asima, a tiefling, removed her hood, revealing her two curving horns and red skin. She was an apprentice in the Watchful Order, and due to her race, sympathized with Rizzell where prejudice was involved.

“What’re you doing here?” Asima narrowed her eyes. “And did you get… bigger?”

“I’m here to find out what happened to the Order.”

Asima grimaced. “They’re moving us all to Skullport. They’re going to enslave everyone; they have a Zulkir coming.” Looking over her shoulder, she quickly threw her arms around the kobold. “I am so glad to see you. The others decided I’d have the best chance to find help, and you’re a blessing right now.”

Rizzell’s chest swelled with pride. It was rare for a guild member to think of him as useful. “I’m just glad I wasn’t too late.”

Asima looked over her shoulder and lead Rizzell down another corridor, to make sure they were safe. “Do you have a plan, then?”

“I left a notice for the city watch. It should take them about an hour to come here,” the kobold explained.

The tiefling shook her head. “They won’t find anything. The Red Wizards have been moving people to Skullport all morning. I might be the only one left.”

“Do you know where the portal is, then?”

Asima nodded her head towards a spiral staircase. “Down the stairs, beneath their enclave.”

“Well, Skullport is a good enough place to find a kobold and a tiefling,” Rizzell noted. “At least we won’t look out of place. But, well, it’s a rough town…” He stroked his chin. “A place for broad shoulders…”

“I suppose,” Asima arched her brow. “What are you thinking?”

Rizzell was heavily tempted, now. He pulled out his quill and drew the intricate spell in the air. The same rush of power flew threw him, and the tiefling gasped as he jumped up a few more inches. His body filled out more, the sleeves of his robe wrung taut over limbs roped with brawny muscle. His chest was now tearing at the collar line, the defined cleft of his new pecs poking out from the fabric.

“By the gods!” Asima hissed. “What did you do?”

“It’s a spell I’ve been experimenting on,” Rizzell grinned tightly, flexing his arm and watching his bicep bulge with satisfaction. “I could do the same for you, if you like?”

“Ah,” Asima put on a brave face. “No thanks. I think this will do.” She summoned up a fireball in her hands.

“Suit yourself,” Rizzell shrugged his broadened shoulders. The two snuck down the staircase, and soon, they were awash in the red glow of the Wizards’ magic. The portal was hard to miss, as it was framed by an archway of skulls. A red-robed wizard stepped through and immediately glared at Asima and Rizzell. “What are you two doing down here?”

The two exchanged looks. “Uh…”

“Intruders! Kneel before the might of Thay!” the wizard shouted.

Asima immediately summoned a fireball, hurling it at their foe. The wizard fired back with lightning, which the tiefling only just dodged.

“Keep him on his toes!” Rizzell shouted. He produced a ward to shield Asima, lightning glancing off the tiefling. The Red Wizard focused all his force on the tiefling, while Rizzell drew out his Alteration spell again. He growled as he felt himself fill with strength and energy, then he charged the evil mage, leaping and tackling him to the floor. With his new strength, he managed to grapple the wizard’s arms back. Asima ran up, and rendered their foe unconscious with a spell.

The looked back to the stairs, where they heard the sounds of footsteps coming quickly. “Quick,” Asima pulled on Rizzell’s arm. “Through the portal!”

Both of them leapt through the red miasma, and soon, they were both under the gaze of a giant, flaming green skull, leering over a collection of ramshackle houses, fortified buildings, carved out of a cavern wall, and a collection of busy docks jutting out onto an underground lake.
“Skullport,” Asima frowned like she had a bad taste in her mouth. “I hoped I’d never have to see this hellhole again.

Rizzell growled, tearing his sleeves off. The cloth had begun to restrict his bigger arms, and his newly swollen muscles had felt restricted. He grinned toothily at his scaly biceps and full, meaty triceps. “One more…” he drew the spell once again, and rumbled with satisfaction as his muscles bulged further.

“Rizzell!” Asima hissed. “I need you to focus.”

The kobold looked over to the tiefling and shook his head. “Sorry, sorry. Can’t be too prepared. Do you know where the guild members will be?”

“The Red Wizards have a wharf and a warehouse to the south. They sail through the cavern to the Sea of Fallen Stars, then back to Thay.”

Rizzell tensed his arms, his chest stretching his torn robes as his pecs swelled out. He bounced on his overgrown leg muscles and huffed, building up his resolve. “Alright. Let’s save the Watchful Order.”

The two quickly cut through Skullport. Asima’s red wizard robes and the unusually muscular kobold at her side was enough to keep people at a distance. The tiefling glanced down at Rizzell; despite the fact he still wasn’t quite at chest level with her, he seemed fearsome with all that muscle packed on his frame. “You seem fixated on that spell. Are you sure it doesn’t have any… adverse effects?”

Rizzell looked up at her. “What? Oh, no- it’s a physical alteration spell, it shouldn’t have any effect on the mind, if that’s what you’re worried about I’ve just never had a chance to feel… strong. Or intimidating. It’s a little exhilarating. But also I just want to be useful. Beyond sweeping the floors.”

Asima rubbed the back of her head. “I’m sorry the guild gives you such a rough time. They’re not bad people.”

“I know they’re not. I wouldn’t be sticking my neck out for them if they were,” Rizzell explained. “But maybe they’ll come around if I save their lives, right? Besides, it’s what Aubrin taught me to do.”

Asima smiled sadly. “Aubrin was a great mage. He’d be proud of you, heading out to save the whole guild.”

Rizzell reflected Asima’s expression. “I hope so.”

The two soon found the Red Wizards’ wharf, again marked by the red and black banners of Thay. Asima used her race’s ability of darkvision to get a good look at the complex, then pointed to a warehouse in the center. “That’s the only building big enough to hold everyone in the guild.” She took another look, and her face fell. “Oh, no.”

Rizzell clambered on top of a few discarded crates to get a better look. Sailing into the wharf was a ship painted with black pitch and festooned with red banners, with far too much ornamentation to be practical. It was a slave galley, with hundreds of oars plowing the water, and the ominous, booming gait of the slave driver’s drums. “What is that?”

“It’s a Thayvian flagship… a Zulkir’s on board.” Asima’s face soured. “He must be here to oversee the slaves personally. Red Wizards love gloating.”

Rizzell thinned his lips. “So, it’s either now or never, basically.”

“Pretty much.” Asima glanced down to the kobold as he climbed back down. “You might want to use that spell again. Make it a big one.”

Rizzell grimaced, eager to test his limits, but also beginning to understand the threat they faced. The Zulkirs were the most powerful and sadistic wizards in Thay. This wasn’t going to be an easy fight. He prepared the intricate spell with his quill, and added any flourishes he could think of to the design to make it more powerful. He gasped with the rush of power flowing into him, nearly overwhelmed. Every part of him bulged and grew, muscles augmented with unimaginable magical power. He let out a roar far more aggressive than Asima ever expected to hear from the kobold, tearing at his long-suffering robe to give his body more room to grow. He seemed to stop growing taller, but continued to grow outwards.

Heavy muscle surged out from his body, pecs keeping his chin firmly pressed into their cleft with each breath as Rizzell looked down at his own umber scales, rippling and stretched taut over his new mass. Neither arm would be resting against his sides ever again given the sheer width of his lats, the beast now easily as wide as he was tall, if not wider. No neck was visible anymore, swallowed up by his chest and the rolling mountain range of his trapezius, terminating in shoulders that could have been mistaken for shields. His frame tapered toward the waist, slimming slightly as it reached legs just thick enough to strike some balance with his considerably overburdened torso. If not for the fact his back bulged out behind him his swollen chest might have sent him toppling forward. His tail swished about as he steadied himself, panting from the effort. He wrapped the tattered remains around his thick obliques and hips to keep distant, looking more like a barbarian than a wizard.

Asima approached him cautiously, her eyes wide at the transformation. “Rizzell? How do you feel?”

The kobold looked up, smirking as he palmed his own mammoth bicep. “Itching to throw that limp-wristed Zulkir back to Thay.”

The two had to act quickly; there was little time for stealth. Moving to a quiet part of the compound, Rizzell used his great strength to punch a hole through the wall, and Asima slipped in under a shadowcloak to make sure the way was clear. They raced their way to the main warehouse, and the tiefling quickly dispatched the guards, using illusions to cloud their sight. The two slipped into the cavernous warehouse, and came across a shocking sight.

The only product the Red Wizards seemed to be storing were slaves. Iron pens were filled to bursting with every race that made their home in the underdark; dwarves, gnomes, and even, to their astonishment, drow elves. The gnomes and dwarves seemed the most despondent, broken shells that wouldn't respond to Rizzell and Asima, but the drow, ever proud and vain, looked down at their fellow prisoners with haughty, disdainful looks.

Asima approached the drow, after checking for anymore guards. “What happened to you? Do the Red Wizard reach as far as Menzoberranzan?”

“Away from me, mongrel!” a male drow sneered. He was tall and lithe like most members of his race, and despite his prisoner’s rags, he still carried himself with the arrogant air of a noble. “I am Quendilor Xorlarrin, first son of House Xorlarrin, and Archmage of Menzoberranzan!”

Rizzell lumbered forward, grabbing Quendilor’s wrist and yanking him down to his eye level with a single tug of his powerful arm. “Don't be rude to your only chance at freedom, Quendilor.”

“Let— let go of me, you overgrown goblin, before I call for the guards!” the drow demanded, alarmed at the hulking kobold’s strength.

“You would throw away your only chance at freedom just to spite us? Where are they keeping the members of the Watchful Order?” Asima asked.

The dark elf scoffed. “What makes you think that you two peasants could defeat the Red Wizards of Thay when scions of the most powerful houses of the Drow could not?”

The tiefling crossed her arms, thoroughly annoyed. “We can make it worth your while.”

Quendilor paused, stroking his well-groomed goatee. “I'm listening.”

“Any Red Wizard we take alive, including the Zulkir, you can take back to your city as slaves.”

There was an unsettling glint in the drow’s purple eyes. “Intriguing… a delicious revenge, and what glory to deliver unto House Xorlarrin and Lolth.”

“Wait, what?” Rizzell frowned. “We didn't come here to become slave traders ourselves.” The kobold crossed his arms, pecs spilling over his forearms as his peaked biceps dug into his chest. Auburn had instilled Rizzell with a strong moral code; and he wouldn't abandon his madter’s memory now.

“Rizzell!” Asima rolled her eyes. “We don't have time to argue about this.”

The kobold turned back to Quendilor. “You can take the Zulkir back to your city. Thay will pay a fortune to get him back. Let the survivors run back to Thay, to… tell tales of the drow’s terrible revenge, spreading terror in their lands.”

The drow narrowed his eyes. “So, these are your terms for our temporary alliance?” Quendilor offered his hand. “Very well.”

Rizzell took the hand, and squeezed hard, makingthe elf wince in pain. “Don't double cross us, drow. Or you’ll be sent back to Menzoberranzan one piece at a time.”

“Yes! Yes of course!” Quendilor hissed, trying to pull his hand free of the kobold’s grip.

Satisfied, Rizzell pulled apart the iron bars with ease, and the drow filed out. “So, where are they keeping the Watchful Order?”
Quendilor pointed to the far side of the warehouse. “Right by the door facing their wharf. There was word that they would be the first to be loaded on to their ship; apparently, the Zulkir has it in for your guild master.”

“Well, hope he's enjoying it while he can,” Rizzell growled, palming his fists and rolling his massive shoulders, practically moving mountains.
The three found the largest pen by the door, filled with familiar faces to Rizzell, and soon, wide eyes as they spotted the kobold.

“Is that Rizzell?”

“It can't be!”

“By the gods, look at him!”

Rizzell craned his head looking for the guild leaders, and soon spotted Urlgen amongst the sea of apprentices and novices. “Urlgen! What happened?”

“They loaded all of the guild leaders, first. Levallandra, Torvus, and Naomal were the first to go. Apparently elves and humans sell more these days.” The half-orc grumbled.

“That's horrible!” Asima exclaimed. “Have you seen the Zulkir?”

Urlgen nodded. “Bald-faced human, pinched nose. Permanent sneer. Calls himself Xalatan.”

“Well, he's going to pay for this.” Rizzell said. “But let's get you all out, first.” He immediately gripped the bars.

“Let me,” Urlgen said, gripping the bars in his huge hands. His arms tensed, the half-orc’s own powerful muscles bulging, biceps strained and pecs surging as he bent the bars of the cell. “You're not the only one with some strength to back up his spells,” Urlgen said as he stepped through, smiling drily as he bent down to Rizzell’s level. “Elminster’s alteration book?”

Rizzell smiled tightly, bouncing his meaty pecs. “Yep.”

“Creative,” Urlgen noted approvingly, before turning back to the rest of the guild members. “Alright, mages of Waterdeep! We were kidnapped by Red Wizards and just saved by a kobold janitor and a tiefling apprentice! I say it's high-time we reclaimed some semblance of dignity, and kick these Thayvian jackasses from here to the Sea of Swords!”

The Watchful Order roared their approval. Urlgen and Asima blew the doors of the warehouse off their hinges, and the half-orc led the charge, landing a punch that knocked a Red Wizard off his feet. Rizzell joined the charge, and as the battle was joined, with the Watchful Order joined by drow, and the Red Wizards summoning necromantic constructs to bolster their forces, the kobold spotted a bald-headed wizard duck down from the prow of the slave galley, and soon, the ominous march of the drums began again.

“The Zulkir snake is getting away!” Quendilor spat. “Kobold! Get my quarry, or my people and I might just induce some friendly fire!”
Rizzell glared at the drow, and ran as hard as his short yet powerful legs would carry him. The slave galley was already slipping away from the wharf, but Rizzell grabbed one of the mooring lines in a desperate bid to pull the ship back.

It was a foolhardy move, as the explosion of magic all around him, wizards on both sides engaged in magic duels, left him alone to his futile task. All the same, Rezzill threw all his strength into it. The line quickly grew taut, but Rizzell dug his heels in, wrapping the rope around his tensed arms, and took in a deep breath, letting his chest spread out, and he prepared for the worst.

There was a terrible groan, and the kobold was nearly pulled into the water, but the ship was stopped in its tracks. The oars began to row more feverishly, and the rope began burning against Rizzell’s scales. His grip nearly slipped, and he threw every last ounce of strength and will into it, every limb tensed, every muscle strained, he pulled until his arms felt like they would pop out of his sockets. Just as he lost his footing, he felt one last rush of power course through him; his body was coursing with so much magical energy that his spell stimulated him one last time. Every muscle suddenly bulged, filling him with a mighty burst of strength. With a defiant roar, he wrenched on the rope, and the galley was wrenched towards the mighty beast, scraping against the dock until it slammed back into the wharf.

Grunting as he dropped the rope, Rizzell clambered up the stern of the ship, landing with a heavy thud. There, still struggling to his feet, was the Zulkir.

“What are you?” Xalatan demanded, summoning a bolt of lightning to smite the kobold as it advanced towards him.

Rizzell didn’t so much as pause, creating a barrier that caused the lightning to glance off of him harmlessly. “Just another kobold; so insignificant, you didn’t even think me worth kidnapping.”

Xalatan frantically threw every spell he could manage, but all of them bounced off the kobold’s titanic body, every part of him hard as steel. He grabbed Xalatan by the hem of his robes, and lifted him effortlessly over his head, swollen biceps and shield-sized shoulders framing his head as his chest surged against his muzzle. He threw the Zulkir on to the wharf in a crumpled heap; the battle was finished.

“There! Our prey!” Quendilor shouted eagerly, and the drow surrounded Xalatan. “You shall know the wrath of Menzoberranzan, Red Wizard!” Rizzell didn’t have the stomach to watch; the drow were as merciless and brutal as their reputation suggested. Turning back, he ducked down to the lower decks, first confronting the hundreds of galley slaves that immediately winced as he walked in.

“You’re free. I’m not going to hurt you,” Rizzell said, standing aside for them to run past. Craning his thick bullneck, he looked for familiar faces before moving to the lowest deck. There, he found the three guild leaders.

Lord Master Naomal was the first to recognize the kobold. “Rizzell? You stopped the ship?”

“I did.” Rizzell hid his smile, flexing an arm now thicker than Naomal’s waist as he palmed the towering mountain of his bicep.

“What happened?” Torvus demanded. “How did you… turn into this?”

“Don’t worry, Torvus. We can do some experiments; within reason.” The kobold winked. Then, with arms crossed, he turned to the high elf that had treated him as little better than vermin.

Levallandra still carried herself with the poise of a high elf. Looking Rizzell over, she nodded. “Yes. Thank you, Rizzell. You’re our hero.” She sounded as if she was going to choke on her words.

“Such grateful platitudes,” the kobold replied drily, before throwing his thumb over to the hatch leading above deck. “The rest of the guild is waiting outside.”

Torvus and Levallandra, thoroughly humbled, quickly made way, but Naomal lingered. “It… goes without saying the entire guild owes you for what you’ve done. What, uh. What did you have in mind for a reward?”

“Well, maybe I can move out of the broom closet, for one.” He bounced his pecs again for emphasis, those two millstones grinding against one another. “I don’t think I’ll fit anymore.”

“That goes without saying.”

“I also want Master Aubrin’s old seat on the council. I made myself this way with magic— I invented the spell that did this.” He gestured to his body, letting every muscle ripple. “Doesn’t that prove I’m a mage of some worth?”

Naomal dithered. “There has never been a kobold on the council… it’s highly unorthodox. We would…” the Lord Master’s protests died away as the kobold arched his brow. “I’ll see what can be done.”

“That’s all I ask, then. Oh, and something for Asima, too. I would’ve never found you all without her.”

“A tiefling, too?” Naomal swore under his breath, but one more look from Rizzell silenced him. “I’ll… do my best.”

“Good.” The kobold swung his arm around Naomal’s waist, practically carrying the man above deck to the crowd of guild members who knew exactly to thank for their freedom. “I think this is the start of great things for the Watchful Order. And I think Aubrin would be pleased.”

The Lord Master sighed in resignation. “On that, we can agree emphatically.”