We (a guy who was always here, not three kobolds who accidentally tunneled their way to the surface world) have been challenged to a duel to the death for the right to keep our Lair 2B. After days of rigorous training with the Iron Maiden we assembled into our trenchcoat for what might be the last time and set out to do mortal combat with this “City Inspector”.

Our first challenge lay in finding the Hall of the City – but Krak figured out that approaching other surface dwellers and showing the challenge paper would inevitably lead us to our goal. To our great surprise he was right. We were on the war path and would not be deterred.

As we approached the hall we saw from a distance a fort of disappointing size – it was not very large, and couldn’t possibly garrison many warriors. It had no traps we could see – not even a moat filled with deadly predators. Klik’s well-honed senses spotted no spike traps and not a single wall looked to be loaded with poison-tipped darts. There was even a herd of tasty flying rats outside – perhaps after our victory we shall hunt a few for the celebratory feast.

Emboldened we marched up the to the building. The doors magically opened for us, as though recognizing our right as challengers, admitting us into yet another disappointment: We heard no sounds of battle, no clashing of blades nor the triumphant cries of victors. Instead, a small, wrinkled surface-dweller asleep in a chair looked at us – he grabbed our notice of challenge, looked at it and mumbled “Department of housing, you want H-12 up on the left”. He then pressed a button on a glowing panel next to him and handed us a sacred number scroll – we recognized this ritual of McDon-Ald’s – before going back to snoring.

Warily we approached the portal marked “H-12” just as our number was called. Krak adjusted the fedora. Klok grabbed the flaps of the coat tightly. Klik clenched his teeth in anticipation. With a fearsome cry we charged in.

Inside, once again, disappointment. The warlock challenger was nowhere in sight. Instead, we were faced with some low-level minion locked away in a small, smelly room. Klik pitied the creature. Klok did not. Still, we pushed on.
Krak locked eyes with the minion and, using his most authoritative voice, shouted “WE HAVE COME TO DO BATTLE FOR LAIR 2B!” before shoving the challenge paper in the minion’s face. The minion was clearly terrified by our superiority and fled immediately mumbling about “needing a supervisor”. We basked in the glory of our first triumph. The feast of the flying rats would come soon.

While we were celebrating our victory, the door creaked open. The minion returned. At first we believed he had gathered his courage for another challenge, but as the door fully opened we saw it was not so – another surface-dweller, this one older, bearded, wearing a glossy rectangle of power, entered. Krak prepared for another challenge but the intruder spoke first.

“We’re so sorry for the misunderstanding, Mister… ahm… Trench. The papers must have been mixed up somewhere! Of course we have no intention of evicting such a famed artist! Just be sure to let your millions of followers know that, there’s no need for a media disaster (he chuckled nervously) – why don’t we just take you to The House Royal, one of our finest hotels, so you can relax while we… sort this all out.”

Before we could even reply, this new intruder grabbed our hand and lead us outside. Unsure of what’s to come we decided to comply (Klok prepared to bite his hand, just in case).

Before we could demand a formal declaration of surrender, the bearded one clapped his hands and summoned a metal chariot from the depths. It rolled up to the hall of the city with a hiss of brakes and a door that opened like a yawning mouth. Inside waited a dozen seats, all empty but for one trembling minion who avoided our gaze. We did not sit. We remained upright and vigilant, gripping the ceiling railings like true warriors bound for unknown lands.

The door closed. The chariot rumbled. And thus began our exile to The House Royal.

Rat Tail Rating:

• Krak: 5/5 – “Victory through intimidation. The coat grows more powerful with each passing day.”
• Klok: 4/5 – “NO BLOOD. NO FIRE. BUT WE STILL WON. CONFUSING.”
• Klik: 5/5 – (Slightly queasy as the metal chariot rolls on.)

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