A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE KOBOLD RACE

It was long ago when the first kobold crawled out of the primeval soup after somebody forgot to flush him. It was the lesser god Ko-Hiaki whose hygiene was less than perfect that particular day and he still has the bitemarks on his bum to prove it. Feeling a little miffed that his own refuse should fight back he took his dollop, named it “kobold” and threw it to earth wherupon it splattered into one hundred thousand pieces and formed the kobold race.

One of the larger fragments was to become King Richard the Third, the first great kobold king, renowned for his ability to count all the way to three without being prompted. It was he who led the kobold nation into The Great War of the Roses.

The origin of the war went something like this,
Upon learning of the new race the Ores said unto the Men, “They are dollops of poo and stinketh,”
And the Men spake unto the Dwarves saying, “Hey, Shorty. They are little piles of excrement and reek most foul,”
The Dwarves took up the call, looked down upon the Hobbits and said “They are tiny piles of manure and pong most powerful,”
The Hobbits gulped in fear and ran most quickly to the Elves and cried “They are fertilizer and smell strongly.”
The Elves then called upon the gods saying “This new race with the keen sense of smell has the ability to make us grow.”
And with this, Ko-Hiaki looked down upon his creation and said “Not bad for an afternoon's constipation,”

Fearing for their nostrils the five races gathered together and formed a plan. They delivered unto King Richard a grand bouquet of one hundred thousand scented roses to distribute as a welcome present to the whole of his race. Richard, a little puzzled, but nevertheless not wishing to offend decided to return the favour. He passed to the beclothespegged representatives of the five races his favourite collection of toilet brushes and said “For your leaders, they will know what to do with them.”
Time passed and Richard and his kobold nation became fed up with the diet of roses so much that they forever forsook the eating of plants. (Except in mating season when they need the extra roughage. Mating season is, of course, identical to that of rabbits.) The leaders of the other races upon receiving Richard's apparent insult immediately took to arms and sought to destroy the kobold race

As you are no doubt aware this merely sundered the race into seven separate tribes and drove them into hiding in their favourite wastes. The main division between the seven kobold tribes is in their version of Richard's last words. These include:-
"I never even wanted the stinking roses."
"Ooh! That's not what I expected you to do with my favourite toilet brush".
"Don't pull the chain."
"Now wash your hands."

The debate remains lively unto this day.

A Selection of Kobold Songs

 We three cooks of kobolddom are,
Selling elf jam one crown a jar,
Peeling, drying, boiling, frying,
Pickling in vinegar.

CHORUS

Oh! Halfling tootsies fried in oil,
Orcish noses brought to boil,
Dwarven beards, freshly sheared,
Elf ears cooked in foil.

Herbs are mine they hide the reek,
Of dwarven beards not washed for a week,
Thyme and dill, sage, basil,
Almost too good to eat.

CHORUS

Lightly toast an orcish nose,
Half a dozen halfling toes,
Skewer it, baste it, grill it, taste it.
Shish kebab a la foes,

CHORUS

We kill the elves and scatter their limbs across the land,
For we are kobold warriors and kill elves where they stand
We fight them in the treetops, we fight them where they dwell
We fight them in their forests and send them dawn to hell

CHORUS

All this scum around is sent from hell below,
We kill them lord, we kill them lord,
So the kobold race may grow.

Though ore troops do beset us and fill our hearts with fear,
We know that we shall triumph, we know all orcs are queer,
Shirts open to the navel, medallions round their necks,
They've started taking hormones so they can change their sex!

CHORUS

Though hobbits try to trip us by running round our feet,
Persistent with their screaming, their voices high pitched squeaks,
They're dreadfully annoying, buzzing round like gnats,
They know that if we catch them we'll squash them with flyswats

CHORUS

Though dwarfs are short and stumpy, like little round teapots,
They're just about as useful as zebras having spots,
They couldn't fill a teacup, they couldn't aim that straight,
In all I'd rather have a turnip for a mate.

CHORUS

I met an elf, on the curtain wall.
Kicked him off, and watched him fall,
now he's not even two feet tall,
Dirty old elf, dirty old elf.

I caught an elf, or was it three.
Strung 'cm up, by the nearest tree,
Watched them dance like the three degrees,
Dirty old elves, dirty old elves.

I’m gonna build me a massive fire,
Pile on elves, make it higher and higher,
I'll burn you up on the funeral pyre,
Dirty old elf, dirty old elf.

Clouds are drifting across the blue,
Sooty black, 'tis a wond'rous hue,
That's the last we shall see of you,
Dirty old elf, dirty old elf.