Preface: The Dragon That Was

An ancient kobold reveals his ties to the event that changed the continent of Xen'rik and the skies of Eberron forever.

Arboth hardly noticed the pebbles that hit his small, scaly back. What finally got his attention were the giggles and taunts of the three young kobolds crouched on top of the crumbling wall that made up the ruined island fortress that was his home.

“Gonna hit us with fire breath, Arboth? Kobold soooo scared!” cried one of the young thugs. “Cra-zy Ar-both! Ar-both the dragon and his shinies!”

Arboth did not look at them but went on about the business of stacking his firewood for the day. Another pebble smacked him in the side of the head. That's when he noticed they were actually throwing dragonshard fragments from his hoard, not pebbles. Now he was angry.

“GO AWAY,” he barked at the youngsters. His voice was odd for a kobold, deep and resonating but creaky with age.

The youngsters snorted and laughed, raising their arms for another taunt. Suddenly, with a chorus of yelps and yarks, they scurried away.

Arboth grunted and stopped to gather the fragments scattered by the youngsters. These dragonshard fragments only had partial runes on them, but every runed dragonshard held part of the puzzle. At some point, he would combine them to see if he could recreate the full runes, but that had to be done at a stone in the city. He decided he would soon take these fragments to his well-protected cave and store them with the rest of his collection.

He then realized what had driven the young thugs away; there was splashing and yelling coming from the ocean nearby. Someone was fighting the rust monsters that lived in the bay. Arboth moved to the arched doorway and looked out over the water, shielding his eyes against the glare of the midday sun. He watched a young human male, breathing heavily as he struggled through the water, turn and cast a powerful lightning chain at the attacking monsters. They slumped into the water, lifeless.

The human turned up onto the beach of Arboth’s island, glancing at the old kobold standing in the doorway with a keen look in his eye. Arboth usually hid when strangers came around poking about his home but he just wasn’t in the mood today. He would deal with this human face-to-face.

“Are you Arboth?” asked the man.

Arboth nodded slightly.

“Thank the Host! I've been out here three times this month and haven't been able to locate you. I am Finn Davies,” the man introduced himself. “I am a wizard of The Twelve.”

Arboth shrugged. He was aware of The Twelve, an organization created by the twelve dragonmarked houses of the Five Nations of Khorvaire to study magic. They had an enclave in Stormreach, the main city on the nearby continent of Xen'drik.

“May I come in?” Finn asked after an awkward pause.

Arboth looked at the man’s dripping robes with annoyance; he had just cleaned his small living area and didn’t want it muddied up. Jutting out his jaw a little, he nevertheless waved an arm into the ruined enclosure and stepped back.

“I guess you are wondering why I’m here and how I know your name,” Finn started but the ancient kobold did not respond. After centuries on this small island now known as Ataraxia, very little about the visitors that came to seek him out was surprising anymore.

“I actually heard about you from Veej the kobold sorcerer and I was hoping to ask you some questions. I know you have lived here longer than anyone can remember. I have come on an odd but urgent mission to ask you what you might know about the ancient prophecy.”

Arboth eyed him with aged, bleary eyes. He had talked to many over the years, many people of all types and races. Most simply came to laugh at him. Some came to threaten or hurt him. He was in no mood to be mocked or attacked by this human.

"What you think Arboth knows about a prophecy?" he creaked, wary and alert. The last person to ask him about prophecies had tortured him and left him for dead. He tensed, preparing to run.

The young wizard was encouraged, taking the kobold's question as a sign of interest.

"Veej mentioned to me that you claim to know the Truthful One personally and that you have been alive for thousands of years. Of course that can't be right, you don't appear to be a lich... but I am currently studying the thirteenth moon and the Draconic Prophecy. I came across a curious reference to Arboth the Kobold, in a tome from 500 years ago... well, I wanted to ask you if that Arboth the Kobold is in fact... you... or maybe an ancestor of yours..."

He felt silly even saying it. How could this be the same kobold? Kobolds do not have a long life span. 500 years typically spanned a thousand or more generations of kobolds. But he'd seen stranger things in his studies than an ancient kobold.

Arboth’s lips curved into a small smile and his chest puffed out as he raised himself onto his tiptoes to his full height of three feet and five inches. He forgot to be careful, something that nearly always got him into trouble. He had waited many millennia for someone to take him seriously. Maybe it was time; maybe the prophecy had swung back to include him...

"Kobold is Arboth, from the tome," he said. "Many come to seek answers from Arboth but none ask the right questions."

"You are 500 years old?" asked Finn in amazement.

"No, Arboth is thousands of years old. Arboth lose count..." Arboth corrected him.

"How is that possible?" asked Finn. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but maybe this little kobold could help him to fill in some of the holes in his theory of the thirteenth moon and avert the coming disaster foretold by the prophecy.

“Kobold never forget,” he intoned in his creaky but deep voice, growing louder and stronger.

“Arboth was once the great red dragon, Aurboranostrix. Aurboranostrix was there when the Moon Breaker was used to destroy the thirteenth moon forever!”