It wasn't long before they reached the village of Pani. In that time they'd heard some wolves in the distance and had passed a few farmer's houses, but no danger had presented itself. It was still early.

"Hey Sig, let's stop at a shop. We need to get some better travelling clothes, and something tells me you could do with a better weapon than that Drow blade too."

Sigmundurr nodded and they soon found themselves in a small store.

"Hey! Get them out of here!" the owner called from behind his counter when he saw the kobolds.

Sigmundurr's brow furrowed, but Kreet touched his arm before he could speak. Then she smiled, turning back to the shopkeeper and shook the little bag she kept a few gold coins in. "Sorry sir, I guess our gold isn't good enough for you?"

"Pah. Probably a bunch of iron slugs," he scoffed, but as she turned back to the door, his tone changed. "Real gold you say?"

She pulled one out and hopped to the counter and plinked one onto the top.

"Pretty sure it's real," she said, offering her best 'I'm-a-Dumb-Kobold-But-I-Found-These-Shinies' look.

The shopkeeper looked to Sigmundurr, who nodded. He then pulled out a small bottle and put a drop of something onto the coin. The drop sat motionless with no reaction. His eyebrows raised.

"Well, well. It seems you've had a bit of luck, little lizard. Go ahead. We're a small shop, but you're welcome to see if there's anything you might like. Afraid we've got nothing made for a tail, but some of the dwarvish equipment might interest you. It's down on the right. Take your time."

Sigmundurr growled but went to look at the armor.

"So let's find something for you first, Kallid," she said, taking him by the hand. She looked him up and down.

"Sure, but nothing too heavy. We both know I'm not a fighter," he said, wiggling his arms.

"Maybe something in leather. Here - how about this?" she said, pulling down a skirt of sorts made with strips of studded leather.

It took a good hour for them to complete their purchases and another half hour to haggle the price down to what both Sigmundurr and Kreet considered to be reasonable. Sigmundurr had found himself a chain-mail shirt, a light helm and some studded leather pants.

For herself, Kreet had originally wanted only a faded yellowish robe which reminded her of her old robe from the Monastery, but both Kallid and Sigmundurr insisted she add some armor over the top. She ended up satisfied with a belt with side-plates to cover her flanks as well as light steel shoulder plates with a fringe of loose chain that draped over her back and chest.

When she looked in the mirror and saw how the fringe accentuated her breasts by falling away to the sides, she nearly put it back - but it was the only such armor that fit her and the men insisted she needed more than just a robe. It wasn't that she didn't like the look. It was that she liked it too well. Pride was something she'd always been taught to avoid.

As for weaponry, she did allow Sigmundurr to splurge here, and splurge he had. Upon emerging from the shop, he now wore a fine steel bastard sword - the best weapon in the shop - as well as a quite wicked-looking hammer belted around his ample waist. Kreet had suggested a shield of some sort, but he explained to her that defense was not his specialty, and it would have been wasted.

Kallid admitted that he had no training in such things, but he did happily accept a stout walking stick that held a hefty metal ball at the thick end that could be wielded as a club in a pinch.

Kreet would accept no edged weapon, but she did end up with a small bronze mace. But what she really loved was a pendant she'd found buried near the back of the store with the accepted Sign of Pelor - a stylized yellow image of the sun that was not far from the badge she'd gotten when she was made an Acolyte years ago. She wore it proudly over the top of her shoulder armor, and if it too called attention to her breasts, she didn't care. She left the shop feeling much more like a true Cleric of Pelor.

"Now we need to decide what we're going to do next," Kreet said as they admired each other on the street outside. "It's too early to stop here, but it will take at least three full nights of walking to get to the city, right Sig?"

"We could ride," Sigmundurr suggested.

Kreet hadn't considered that as a possibility, but she saw its potential immediately.

"Horses aren't cheap," Kallid spoke up, and they both turned to him unexpectedly.

"What do you know about horses?" Sigmundurr asked. "Do they have them in the Underdark?"

"Not many. But they have rangers that use them to scout Outside. I used to clean out the stables. They also hate kobolds."

"All of them?"

Kallid shrugged. "Who knows. But we weren't allowed to go near them."

"Could be exceptions. And it's not like horses up here would have experience with kobolds," Sigmundurr suggested.

Kreet sighed. It was becoming clear that her gold was not going to last.

"Well, avarice is a sin," she said. "Let's go see if we can find some horses."

It was getting close to midnight when they finally left the stables. Surprisingly they'd found a good number of ponies that didn't seem to mind the kobolds at all. The horses, though, were another matter. Yet if they were going to ride, Sigmundurr would need a horse - and a big one at that.

They'd finally settled on a horse that didn't skitter too much when the kobolds came near, so long as they didn't touch her. As for Kreet and Kallid's ponies, Kallid chose a black one with exceptional white stripes across its flanks, while Kreet's was dark brown and nondescript. They'd settled on a price for all three, but it caused Kreet's remaining gold to dwindle to less than a hundred. She now could carry it herself.

"Well, what's gold for if not to be spent?" Sigmundurr said, trying to assure her. "There are some who say kobolds have a bit of dragon blood in them, you know. Maybe you'd like to hoard your gold?"

Kallid laughed at that as they trotted out of town. "Dragon blood? Yeah, I've heard such tales. Mostly from other kobolds."

"From what I've read," Kreet added, "it's not true. But there are some stories about dragons keeping kobolds as slaves. Willing slaves."

"It does seem like your kind find themselves as slaves a lot," Sigmundurr said while struggling to keep his horse from getting too far from the kobolds.

"Racial self-hatred," Kreet frowned. "It's our greatest weakness. Too many of us accept that fate as the natural consequence of being small and weak. And we are small and weak, mostly. But we have brains. We're good with our hands. There are also stories of powerful kobold clans. They're inevitably written by hostile story-tellers, but I bet there are groups of us out there that know we are more than slaves and cannon-fodder."

Kallid spoke up then. "Some of us yearn for more. But too many are content with the yoke and the promise of steady food. I was like that for a long time. But even before I met you I started imagining what it would be like to have children. I realized I had nothing to offer them though. Not as long as I was a Drow slave. That's what got me thinking of leaving. I don't want to die without leaving something behind."

Kreet looked at him. "When we stop, Kallid, let me train you. And let your claws grow out. You should learn how to fight."

Kallid looked down at himself. "Me? I'm sorry, but your husband is... not a fighter."

"Kallid, I took you when I was drunk - you know that. But there were lots of other kobolds in that bar I could have jumped on. You may not be a fighter, but I saw something in you I liked. I still do. You're a great lover. Let's see what kind of a fighter I might be able to make of you too."

"It's a good idea," Sigmundurr said. "You need to be able to defend yourself out here. Hell, learn so you can defend your children if not yourself."

Kreet was surprised and turned back to Sigmundurr.

"Sorry, don't look at me. I'd suck at training somebody. I'd get worked up and knock his head off. This one's on you."

"Besides, I don't think I'm the sword-fighting type."

"No, you're not. I learned that a long time ago. But we've got some good natural weapons, and a stout stick can do a lot - trust me! I got banged up pretty good by sticks before I learned my own ways. Yours may be different from mine, but I can help you find your way."

"And now," Kallid said into the pause. "I think it's time to name our horses! I'm going to name mine Flash!" With that he leaned over and patted the black pony's neck.

"The horse dealer had names for them already," she said, but realized he was right. They needed new names.

Sigmundurr came up with a singularly vulgar and quite gender-specific name for his mare.

"Sig, you can't name your horse that!" Kreet protested.

"Why not? She's mine. I can name her anything I want!"

"Sig! I can't even say that in public!"

"Don't have to. She's my horse and her name is..."

Kreet closed her eyes tight and pretended to cover her non-existent ears.

"Okay, I'll call her 'Sigmundurr's horse' then."

Kallid started laughing, but asked Kreet what she'd name her horse.

"Let me think about it. These things take time to do right. Otherwise you end up with Sig's stupid name."

Sigmundurr joined in the laughter, then gave his horse a kick and she began to gallop away.

"Giddyup ____!"

"Come on Kreet," Kallid laughed as he spurred his pony to catch up. "Giddyup Flash!"

She looked back to her horse, and his name came to her.

"Giddyup Brand!" she called, and they were off.