Long before the founding of the City of Aylor, the largest kobold population in Andolor resided in Mesolar central region, sustaining themselves on vegetables, eggs, and the milk of other mammals. At the time, they were invisible beings, able to suckle directly from the teats of sleeping lactating animals. Nursing mothers would awaken to strange sensations but could never discern the cause. Kobolds adore two things: fire and reveling in others misfortune. Mischief has always been intrinsic to their nature. 

 

When humans first settled the land now known as Aylor, kobolds observed with curiosity. They watched as the city rose stone by stone. One day, a kobold more curious (or reckless) than the rest sneaked into the city. Peering through a  window, it glimpsed something entirely new: a fireplace. Though kobolds revered  fire and remained unharmed by its flames, they had never mastered creating or sustaining it for long. As astonished as the kobold was, so too was the mage who observed the invisible creature - a being undetectable to all others in the city. The mage, never having encountered a kobold before, demanded brusquely (as mages are known to do), "Why do you spy on this house?". The kobold attempted to flee, but the mage paralyzed it with a spell. After hours of strained magical communication, the mage gleaned insights into kobold nature. 

 

Days later, the mage led a delegation of Aylorians to propose a pact: kobolds could dwell in human homes, tending fires and assisting with chores in exchange for sustenance - milk, bread, or bread porridge left nightly by their hosts. Few humans could perceive the kobolds, but their presence was betrayed by floating utensils or self-sweeping hearths. Though kobolds relished mischief - overturning buckets or hiding tools - harsh penalties followed: households deprived them of food for days, curbing their antics.

 

Over generations, kobold influence waned. Their numbers stagnated as Aylor's homes multiplied, leaving many houses devoid of their unseen helpers. Even where kobolds lingered, their efforts grew halfhearted.  the once-novel thrill of fireplaces dulled into complacency. Some Aylorians dismissed them as bedtime fables. Yet resentment festered among the kobolds. Envious of human comfort and coveting their hearths, they stewed in silent bitterness. Dak'kon, god of malice and envy, sensed this rancor. He summoned the kobolds to fields beyond Aylor, teaching them to forge weapons and wage war. Their exodus went almost unnoticed until chaos erupted: livestock vanished, tools turned to  blades, and smoke darkened the sky. Dak'kon's aim was clear - to raze Aylor and have his temple erected atop the ruins of Ivar's Their exodus went almost unnoticed until chaos erupted: livestock vanished, tools turned to blades, and smoke darkened the sky.sanctuary. The kobolds' initial assault overwhelmed the unprepared city. But Ivar, god of hearth and community, begged Ayla, queen of gods, to aid the Aylorians. Together, they rallied the defense, repelling the invaders. Defeated, the kobolds faced divine retribution. Ayla stripped their invisibility, twisting their once occult forms into hunched, scaled creatures with glowing eyes. Ivar cursed them to recoil from flame and sunlight, forcing them into caves and mines. Before leaving the creatures of that land to their own fate, Ayla cast a last curse upon the kobolds: the closer they drew to Aylor, the more excruciating pain would surge through their bodies, compelling them to flee Aylor chaotically - each group scattering in a different direction. Thus, the kobolds became creatures of shadow wandering the lands of Andolor, their once-playful bond with humanity twisted into bitter spite. Yet even now, whispers endure of kobolds lingering near forgotten hearths, drawn to the warmth of flames they once adored and the homes they still covet.

 

It is said that five great groups of kobolds fled Aylor after their defeat, though today, three of these factions have vanished into obscurity. Only scattered descendants of these groups endure living in isolated corners of Andolor, such as the Gladiators' Arena, Anthrox, the Uprising, the Labyrinth etc. 

 

The first surviving group migrated far north, seeking refuge in the shadowed depths of the Underdark. For a time, they thrived - until the Onyx Bazaar, a sprawling nexus of trade and disorder, arose along the borders of the Underdark. Lured by the promise of easy plunder, they began pilfering food from the market's chaos, only to be trapped and enslaved by The Boss. Shackled alongside dwarfs and elves, their fate seemed sealed until Ceol, a shrewd opportunist, learned of their plight. He liberated about 120 kobolds, guiding them across the portion of ocean separating Mesolar from Gelidus to serve as loyal agents in  Deneria. 

 

Yet distrust festered. A kobold named Gecko rallied 50 dissenters, fleeing northwest under cover of night. Years of brutal travel through Gelidus' frozen wastes claimed many, including Gecko himself. His son, Tacko, now leads the survivors, infamous for laying siege to the Eldar's ancient castle at the Kobold Siege Camp. 

 

The second surviving clan wandered westward for generations, their nomadic existence ending only when they stumbled upon the abandoned mines of Horath. There, they carved a new home from the hollowed earth, trading restless wandering for the dark embrace of stone. 

 

And so the kobolds of Andolor persist - scattered, fractured, yet inextinguishable. Their tales linger in hearthside whispers and the creak of old floorboards, in shadows that linger just beyond the firelight. Some say they are cursed to forever covet what they cannot reclaim: the warmth of fires they once tended, the homes they once haunted. Others claim their spite burns brighter than any flame, a smolder awaiting kindling. But in the silent depths of Horath's mines or the frostbitten reaches of Gelidus, one truth endures: 

although they say that what is gone, is gone, the kobolds remember. And in their remembrance and in their eyes, the embers of vengeance glow eternal.