It was a damp evening in the forests. Rain had fallen the past several hours, bringing nurishment to the trees and soaking the inhabinants below. Most wildlife ran to burrows or hallow logs for shelter, but others saw the opportunity to hunt those that strayed out in the storm. One such fellow was a deep blue kobold. The rains had paused momentarily, causing Gizro to rest for now.
The escaped slave saw every oportunity as a way to increase his odds to further distance himself from his previous master's family. He knew he would be scapegoated for his death, and he valued his own life higher than others. Rain helped to cover his tracks and hide away his scent, so when there was a pause to the rain, he saw it as his own opportunity to rest. He hung his soaked travelers cloak on a nearby branch, revealing his filthy shirt and pants he wore. The kobold then gathered up some broken sticks, twigs, and some brush and put it all in a pile. With the only dry stick he could find, he began to rub and twist it in his pile. After a few minutes or so, he threw the stick in frustration.
"Aarrgh, I hate this!" Gizro screamed in anger. "If it weren't for these confound shackles, I would have a warm blaze right now!" He glared fiercly at his bracers, his eyes filled with rage. He began to claw and bite at the shackles on his wrists, trying his best to break the thick iron cuffs off.
