Aliang's eyes widened like a tiger, and he suddenly stood up. His gaze, sharp as a blade, sliced toward the unwelcome visitor. His exceptionally tall stature—remarkable even among kobolds—and his muscular, corded arms, thicker than the thighs of most kobolds, gave him an imposing presence.
In stark contrast, the visitor's appearance was far less impressive. Thin to the point of frailty, with beady eyes no bigger than mung beans, a pair of oversized buck teeth that refused to stay behind closed lips, and scraggly, yellowed whiskers under his nostrils, everything about him screamed disreputable. The rusty, battered pickaxe in his hands was a sorry excuse for a weapon compared to the 'Unique Excellent Quality' deluxe iron shovel Aliang held.
Truth be told, if stylishness could translate into combat prowess, one glare from Aliang would be enough to reduce this skinny kobold—now defiantly standing with folded arms—to nothing but dust.
