Gender, to kobolds, is never something of importance, unless you are a) hoping to become a shaman of Kurtulmak, or b) want to procreate, the latter being the most important part to realize that, hey, some kobolds have slightly different parts than others. But when it comes to, say, anything else, then gender is more or less a moot point. You were a kobold… the fact that your various parts may be slightly different than the one standing next to you didn't mean a thing.

     So, when Isma began training to be a warrior, nobody was really surprised. Her tribe members schooled her in various weapons, but Isma's fascination lay with the throwing star and the sword. She trained with these from the day when she could walk. When she was still a young little kobold, a few wolves stumbled into the village, and reacted any wolves would if they suddenly found themselves surrounded by little yapping reptiles. They attacked and mauled a few of the kobolds, and many of the villagers fled in fright. Isma, however, picked up a spear and attacked the wolves without fear, and managed to kill one and drive the rest off… all by herself.

     She was regaled as a hero, and the high shaman of the village dubbed her "Isma The Hero". She was young and therefor could not mate yet, but already she had the eye of the strongest males in the region, let alone the village.

     It was when Isma was just becoming and adult, however, when they came in the night.

     Guridal's dwarfish nose wrinkled, the same as it always did when he was about to kill someone. "Bloody reptile bastards. I say we kill the lot of 'em."

     "Agreed," said Lurindel, brushing back his long hair, "The little things disgust me. All that… yapping."

     A burly man stepped a little closer, peering through the underbrush. "Is it worth it? I mean… we could just avoid 'em and go around. Save us the effort."

     The dwarf scoffed, "Larry, you're a bloody fool. Lets jus' go through the buggers."

     "A service to the good right there," said Lurindel, his pointed ears giving a little twitch.

     A man approached the from behind, flanked by a slightly smaller woman. The woman, dressed in long flowing robes, frowned into the distance. "Blah. Kobolds. Let's go around them."

     Larry squinted. "I agree with Sophia."

     Guridal snorted. "'Course ya do."

     Larry fixed him with a glare. The man who had arrived with the female mage said, "We go through them."

     Lurindel looked at him. "Balan, sir, I'm pretty sure they'll resist."

     Balan unclasped the battleaxe from his back. "Really? Well, wouldn't that be simply terrible?"

     He laughed. So did the rest of them. Kobolds resisting; now that was funny.

     The kobolds resisted all right. They didn't seem to have all their warriors at the moment, (probably off on some fell purpose somewhere) but every kobold knows how to fight, and they at least tried. They were failing, however, to win.

     The dead lay scattered all over the ground. Balan and Larry had since burst into the hatchery, and had quickly killed the guards and smashed every egg they could find. They killed the pregnant mothers there, too, because there's no point in doing a job if you don't do it right.
After that, they had simply taken to killing any yapping devil they could find. Lurindel's dual swords, Guridal's hammer, Balan's battleaxe, Larry's bow, and Sophia's magic were making short work of the kobolds. But no matter how many they killed, the little beasties just kept coming.

     Guridal's hammer obliterated a kobold's skull, and he thought to himself: Well, they could just keep right on coming for all he cared. It was almost a joy to massacre these annoying little things. He whirled around and bashed another in the chest as it tried to attack him from behind. He heard the thing's ribcage splinter. It was an excellent sound.

     Larry joined his side, nocking another arrow. "Whattaya think, Gurry?"

     Guridal glanced up, and felled another kobold that had the stupidity to attack. "They're easy pickin's. Good thing we came across 'em, though. Bloody things were probably plannin' somethin'… you know how they are."

     Larry nodded, and spotted a small kobold fleeing into the woods. He pulled the string, and let the arrow fly. The beast was picked off its feet as the wooden shaft, comparable to the kobold's scale as the size of a small tree trunk, skewered it through the back. Larry smiled. Bullseye. "You're right about that, Gurry. Little drips… its almost boring killing these things all the time."

     They heard a loud boom. Another hut exploded into a million small pieces, accompanied by the frenzied screams of the kobolds within. They looked over, and Sophia gave them a thumbs up. Balan came walking up to them as the fires raged, consuming the small village. He had to step lightly… there were bodies everywhere.

     "Hey," he said, "Has anyone seen Lurindel?"

     On cue, because the world of fiction is interesting like this, Lurindel came stumbling through the smoke, holding his left side. He had a compound fracture in his left arm, and was favoring it… his leg was also badly damaged. As the others rushed to him, he pointed and said, "Kobold… over there… it… fights like… like…" His eyes glazed over, and the elf passed out.

     Balan glared hotly at Sophia. "You stay with him. Guridal, Larry, you're coming with me."

     They had come in the night.    

     Isma didn't know why. None of her people knew why. They just came, and killed, without even saying anything other than "Ha ha! Have at you!". No threats, no mentioning of an old score to settle… just merciless slaughter. The hatchery and all the little ones were gone… the shaman was killed by that sorceress… the tribe chieftain was out with the rest of the warriors…
And now, Isma was all that was left. She knelt over the body of her father, not really believing it was happening.

     She clutched the wooden staff in her hand. She… had seen her father killed by that elf… that elf who… who laughed as he killed! He laughed so merrily as Isma's father was slain, even as he tried to protect her…

     She had picked up the staff, and attacked the elf. She… doesn't remember much of it. She was pretty sure she won. But it didn't matter.

     She heard the sound of some people approaching… the sound of metal armor clinking as the forms closed in. She just stared at her father, remembering the screams as her whole family was… was…

     Balan stopped when he saw the small kobold kneeling on the ground, a bloody wooden staff in its hand. He readied his axe, and Larry and Guridal did likewise with their weapons.

     "Hey, you!" shouted Balan. "Hey! I'm talking to you, kobold!"

     The kobold, after a few seconds, glanced over at them. With the burning huts surrounding the group, it almost appeared as though her eyes themselves burned. It was just the reflection, but it was unsettling… especially considering that the little beast didn't stand. Larry nocked and arrow, and Balan took a few steps foreword. "Hey! Are you deaf? Or just stupid?"

     "It don't speak common, Balan," growled Guridal. "Jus' let me at it. I'll smash its skull in."
The kobold, however, stood up. It was silhouetted against the backdrop of fire, and its tail lashed behind it. It held the long staff in one hand, and stared at the three adventurers. There was a brief period of silence, and then it spoke.

     "You… come to… Isma's home… and kill her people… why?"

     Balan laughed. "Hah! Slaughtering you little rats is a service to all that's holy. Now get over here so I can kill ya." Larry took the opportunity, and released the arrow. The kobold's staff moved impossibly fast, and the wooden projectile rebounded into the distance. The kobold screamed in fury.

     "You kill Isma's family! Why?"

     Guridal took a few steps foreword, his hands gripping the hammer tightly. "Just doin' a good days work."

     Balan shook his head. "Why do we stand here and banter with this thing? Come on, let's kill it."
And they went to kill it.

     Isma fought them… oh, Kurtulmak, she tried to fight them. They were too many, they were battle-hardened, and they were experienced. She got a few blows in, but it… wasn't like fighting the elf. The elf wasn't ready … these three were.

     She fought until every muscle in her body screamed in pain… every scale on her body burning like the fires that raged around her. It was too much. She threw down the staff in panic and fled into the woods.

     The adventurers healed their wounds, looted the wrecked village as best they could, and then moved on to whatever quest guided them there. They never spoke of the battle with the kobolds… it was just another day on the job.

     When Isma returned the next morning, she found what remained of her people cleaning up the debris. The bodies were hauled to a burial sight, a minor shaman of Kurtulmak blessing their souls as they were tossed into a mass grave. Not a one them paid any attention to Isma.
Of all her family, only one of her brothers survived. He was unharmed, having fled the massacre early. They sat together, staring at the ruins of their home.

     Things like this were common, if you were a kobold. On occasion, you'd simply be attacked and killed en masse… there was nothing you could do about it. Only breed more kobolds, train harder, and find another village sight. Kurtulmak promised that if Kobolds were strong, and merciless to their enemies, then eventually, they would become a great race in the realms.
But Isma couldn't think of that. Everything that she cared about was gone… her home… her family… her honor. She was nothing, and alone. And for the first time in her life, she curled her arms around her knees and cried.

     Of the adventurers that attacked Isma's village so long ago, not a one of them has crossed paths with Isma ever again. She never once so much as heard of them, and she didn't care to, either. She didn't put in a single effort to seek them out. She had no reason to.

     Because it was not the individuals that Isma was on a lifelong quest to rectify. It was a mindset that desperately needed changing. It was a disease of evil and wrongdoing throughout the realms that begged for rectification.

     Eventually, through this quest, Isma found the Brotherhood of the Rose. To date, she has yet to cleanse the world of evil, but things are starting to look up.

     And just remember, next time you see a village of creatures… be they gnolls or xvarts or talsoi or goblins or kobolds… and someone suggests to massacre them because they are hopelessly evil devils. Remember that, somewhere, there is a kobold in a Brotherhood of the Rose uniform, with a mission to save the world from evil, and a heart with resolve to do it.
Ask yourself, as you stand amidst the corpses of your enemies, watching the dwelling burn, and think… who is the evil here, who strikes in the night?