You walk... and walk... and walk some more, and morning becomes mid-day and then becomes afternoon. For hours, it seems as if you're the only thing living in these woods, filling the air with the sounds of your struggle through the brush.<br/><br/>And then you stumble into the clearing. Scattered about with staked skulls of small animals and fire pits, the clearing is obviously a meeting place for some kind of tribal society... most likely inhabited by Kobolds like the one who is sitting directly ahead of you, staring dumbfounded at the Elf who just popped out of the woods on him.<br/><br/>For a moment, there is silence... and then the kobold (in a moment of rationality so rare in the breed) holds up his hands and chitters out "Truce, Truce!," alternating between Common and Draconic.