Crown of the Kobold King
From Black Country Role Playing Society
The Crown of the Kobold King
System: D&D 3.5/Pathfinder RPG Setting: Varisia
The reign of Merlokrep, first of his name, all-mighty Dragon King of the Truescale Kobolds, has suffered misfortune from the day of his coronation. When his consort, Vreggma, slipped on the dais steps and poked out the king’s eye with one of the bristly points of his own crown, he should have known that his rule would be ill-starred. But the sturdy resolve that saw him through the murder of his eighteen siblings and cleared his path to the throne did not allow Merlokrep to heed this auspicious omen. Even when a third of his subjects perished in a haphazard mining excavation to retrieve more ‘shiny good-good’ for his demanding consort, Merlokrep remained undaunted. When the foul creeping shadows rose from the dark caves below and withered his finest warriors to skeletal husks the Dragon King finally took the hint. He gathered his sycophantic followers and, taking only what they could carry (mostly shiny good-good), they fled up and away from the spreading darkness. Exiled from their comfortable warren on the lower levels, the kobolds now live directly beneath Droksar’s Crucible, a monastery devoted to a once mighty and malevolent dwarven god, whose legacy is the rocky mountain and the odd ruin that still bears his hateful name.
Merlokrep and his few surviving followers did their best to eke out an existence among the other dangerous denizens of their new home, but the tribe continued to shrink with each passing week as accidents, attacks and the king’s own homicidal outbursts claimed more of his beloved subjects. Growing trepidation finally jarred the memory of the tribe’s elderly shaman, the ever absent-minded Jekkajak, called by many ‘He Who Forgets More Than You or He Knows’. At a tribal dinner Jekkajak suddenly lurched to his feet and babbled forth a dread prophecy long tucked in some corner of his crusted mind: “When the Doomed King sits the Throne our great tribe merk-merks its last! To save our people, wash our troubles from the crown with the blood of the pink-skin spawn!” As the last word left his mouth accompanied by a dribble of stew, Jekkajak slumped face first in his bowl and Merlokrep’s path became instantly clear.
*****
Welcome to Falcon’s Hollow. Nestled on the edge of the Darkmoon Vale this small town is situated on the banks of the River Foam, a tributary of the great Falcon River of South Eastern Varisia. The town was built up around the logging trade and supplies darkwood timber to other towns and cities as far away as Korvosa.
A millennia ago this area was part of an ancient Dwarven Kingdom, long since lost to time and memory. Today, the Darkmoon Vale and its environs represent the frontier of human civilisation in this corner of the world. The Hollow, as the town is known to locals, boasts a population of around 1,500 mostly human inhabitants. Its wealthiest and most powerful denizen is Thuldrin Kreed, Gavel of the Lumber Consortium. Kreed is a greedy and selfish man who enjoys a monopoly on the lumber trade and employs a large proportion of the townsfolk. The townsfolk themselves are an eclectic mix and trouble is never far away, especially on the dockside or in the highly raucous Sitting Duck Tavern and even sometimes outside the Church of Iomedae on Worship Way, where devotees of Urgathoa can often end up in less than holy street-brawls with the church congregation. In charge of keeping what passes for the law in these parts is Sherriff Deldrin Baleson, a man whose mission is a constant uphill struggle.
Characters
Misty Wallace, 1st Level Wizard
Kerren, 1st Level Fighter
Terek, 1st Level Fighter
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