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... p> Not death screaming.

Worse.

Logistical screaming.

There are kobolds everywhere. Half of them are eating, the other half are arguing about eating, and the third half—I'm too tired to math properly—are yelling at someone who apparently "blessed a rat" and now wants to build it a shrine.

Splitjaw's group settled in like a mold colony. Efficient, invasive, territorial. Our corner? Overrun. The line that separated "our kobolds" from "their kobolds"? Gone. Trampled. ...

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