“Fight me!” shrieked the kobold, “Come down and fight me at my size, you coward!”
The party had worked their way into the depths of the enemy’s lair, scaling a treacherous wall, navigating the keep, and descending into the lava-fueled forge. And now, in a room full of enemies, my tiny barbarian had approached the main boss, alone.
And challenged him.
For three rounds, I used my kobold’s draconic cry to gain advantage on my attacks. I used every resource available to me. And when those ran out, I had to make a difficult choice - attack hard, possibly win on this turn, and leave myself vulnerable, or play it safe and risk the damage he would deal? I attacked, recklessly. I had four hit points left. When all the dice were rolled, my damage had exceeded his health by only two points.
Yes, I won. Yes, it was extremely close. Yes, we cheered and shouted and were the loudest party in the game store.
And when the dust cleared, when my tiny kobold barbarian claimed his platinum crown, when my mind left the fantasy and returned to the mundane realities of life, that feeling of victory and joy remained.
