A member of the Blacken Nails

Svent of the Scything Claw Tribe
 
To be hatched a kobold is to know a life of hard work. Kobolds tirelessly toil away mining all day. They pick at the earth, claw at its veins of precious metals and gemstones. Almost the entirety of the kobold tribe are miners. Work gives their life meaning and purpose. Idleness and daydreaming are not tolerated. Too bad for young Svent.
 
The year 1217 was a prosperous time for the Scything Claw Tribe. Dozens of eggs were laid that year. From one rather unremarkable egg was hatched the kobold, Svent. By all accounts Svent appeared to be average in every way. It was only after his mind began to develop that he was noticed to be unique in his own right.
Svent’s mind must have been put together different than that of other kobolds. Even as a wyrmling his mother Ixen noticed that he acted strangely in comparison to the other children she had raised. Svent would doddle among the passageways of the tribe’s settlement. There the walls that been decorated with carvings of the history of kobolds and this tribe. Svent’s young mind conjured up all sorts of stories to go along with these images. They sparked his imagination. He wondered what it would be like to meet a majestic dragon or a greedy fat dwarf or worse yet, a fiendish twisted gnome. His mind raced, perhaps too much. Svent was constantly scolded for his daydreaming.
 
At the age of 6, Svent entered adulthood and was evaluated by the tribal priest Rach. Svent was clearly not strong enough to endure martial training and become one of Chief Greshlyrr’s raiding party. Nor did young Svent possess the intellect or wisdom to be selected as a sorcerer candidate. So, he was set to work in the mines. He hated it. The repetitive business of swinging a pickaxe all day was unbearable. Though the real torture for Svent was the feeling of being alone. No one understood him. Every other member of the tribe was perfectly content with the hard, boring work. In fact, they even seemed to love it. Svent could not fathom it. “How could someone love this?”
 
At least the dull repetitive nature of the work allowed Svent to daydream a bit. This was his only escape from the daily routine. He imagined himself far away from the mines. He imagined a life of wandering from place to place. He imagined seeing the surface world. He imagined flying like a dragon. “What does sunlight feel like on your scales?”
 
On one terribly ordinary day in the mines, something strange happened to Svent. As he was picking at a vein of silver ore, his pickaxe broke into a small chamber. This was not all that uncommon. “Probably just a natural cavity in the rock,” he thought. But then his imagination kicked in. Maybe he had broken into a dwarven mine? He continued to pick at the small opening. Maybe dozens of hideous gnomes were quietly waiting on just the other side. Waiting to come pouring out and attack the good hardworking kobolds. Svent tensed up at the thought of fighting a gnome or a dwarf. He had never been in a fight. What could he really do? Then he went back to enlarging the hole, realizing that death at the hands of a gnome would be preferable to another hundred years as a miner.
 
In was not long before Svent eked out a hole big enough to take a good look into the rock cavity. What young Svent saw was something so strange, even he could not have imagined it. The cavity was perfectly round on the inside, like a bubble had formed in the dense rock. It was a sphere with about a nine-foot diameter. And inside sat the skeleton of some strangely dressed creature. Svent studied the interior wall of the bubble cavity. It was completely smooth.
 
A million questions flooded Svent’s mind. “How did this creature get here?” “Did sorcery create this round pocket in the rock?” “Was this creature dead when it arrived?” “Was it left to die in there?” “This creature was too tall to be a dwarf or a gnome, could it be a human?” “What is clutched in its hands?” “What is that strange glow coming from its hands?” “Did that glow just start?” “I don’t understand, is that glow calling to me?”
 
Svent crawled through the opening into the bubble cavity. He pried the skeletal hands apart to see what they held. It was truly just a glow. An orb of red light. His heart felt like it might beat out of his chest as he reached for the glowing orb.
 
Svent took the glowing orb into his hand. He expected something to happen the moment he touched it. He held it tight. Then he heard a voice. The disappearance of Svent into the cavity had drawn the notice of other miners. His older brother, Fennik called out to him. (He used a draconic term that roughly translates as rotten egg. But it carries a lot more weight with a race that is hatched. So it has a connotation closer to “wishing someone had never been born.”) Svent held the orb as tight as he could and crawled out to face Fennik.
 
“Did you dig in a circle, fool?”
 
Svent stammered out a reply, “No, it’s a strange bubble in the rock. There’s a large skeleton in there.”
Fennik pushed him aside to see into the cavity. After surveying the odd scene in the cavity for a few moments, he turned to Svent; “Stand watch here. I’ll fetch the priest. He must see this.” The Fennik scurried off.
 
Svent was dumbfounded. This whole thing had happened so fast. Was this real he wondered? Svent looked down to see what he held in his hands. But they were empty.
 
“Do not be alarmed, Svent. I am still with you. When others come, say nothing of the glowing orb. I will speak to you again when I can.”
Svent was frozen in terror, but he managed to squeak out a question. “Who are you?” There was no rely.
 
Others soon came. Rach, the tribe’s priest, came to examine the curiosity that Svent had discovered. There was much speculation and conjecture amongst all of the tribe. Even Chief Greshlyrr came to inspect the unusual find. Everyone wanted to know about it. The discovery was quickly attributed to Fennik. Though Svent wasn’t quite sure how. 
 
Days passed and life for the tribe returned to normal. Svent no longer knew if the voice had been real or not. He called to it regularly, both out loud and in his mind. He must have imagined it. He must have just been caught up in the moment. His daydreams got the best of him.
After a full tenday had passed, Svent ended his workday and readied himself for bed. While he laid there, his mind raced with thoughts just as it did every night. He questioned his life and his sanity. He knew that he couldn’t continue to do this day in day out. Depression set in. His little reptilian body shivered as it tried to reconcile the loneliness and despair that he felt. Svent tried to calm himself, to steady his broken nerves. It was during this dark time when the voice called out to him.
 
“Do not fight these feelings. The world is chaos and it is time that you embrace it.”
“Who are you?” “What are you?”
“I am Iz Tar Graf. I am ancient and powerful. That is all you need know of me.”
“What do you want with me?”
“You will be a conduit of power. You will serve chaos.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Leave this life behind. Become an agent of chaos and know true power.”
 
Svent called out to Iz Tar Graf again and again. But there was no answer. Days became weeks and still Svent labored in the mine. He wondered if he should, or even could, leave the tribe and journey out into the world beyond. How would he even be able to do it? Then something occurred to him. He could volunteer to help with the next load of trade goods going to the surface. The town of Banathar was where this month’s trade caravan was headed. He could travel with the merchants to the surface and from there… who knows?
 
Svent spent the rest of month befriending the merchants responsible for the rendezvous with the humans. They did not care much for him, but they always needed young strong kobolds to help carry the load up the winding passages. Things seemed to be going well for young Svent. This was his chance at a different life elsewhere. A better life.
 
Svent learned all he could before the journey. The Scything Claw tribe traded with the Turmish villages of the region. Chief Greshlyrr had long ago negotiated a place for his tribe to trade at the monthly marketplace set up in each of the three nearby villages. One of the merchants was kind enough to teach him a few words of the Chondathan language. He was even able to acquire a set of sundark goggles that would help him see in the sunlight. Everything was coming together. Hopefully taking this step would be enough for Iz Tar Graf to speak to him again and guide him in a new life.
 
Finally, the time had come to trade with the humans. The kobold caravan began the long trip to the surface world. Svent was wracked with a million emotions. Anxiety would get the best of him. He almost turned back a dozen times. He was leaving behind all that he had ever known. But it was also everything that he hated. Fear gripped him and yet he pushed forward. Soon a faint light became visible at the end of the long corridor. Svent was mesmerized by it. Never had he witnessed a light this strong, this bright. It wasn’t long before he began to get a headache from staring at the light. Then someone nudged him hard in the ribs.
“Put on the goggles or else look away, ye dumb shit hatchling,” called out a gruff old kobold.
 
Svent quickly turned his head. Looking at the shaft floor and letting his eyes readjust to normal. He would occasionally glace up to marvel at this light. Sunlight at last. He soon noticed that others were beginning to put on their goggles, so he did the same. In a few minutes, the caravan emerged into the surface world. Every kobold in the party seemed uneasy under the light of the sun, or at least every kobold except one. Svent felt the warmth of the sun on his skin. It radiated through every scale on his body. For once in his life, Svent felt at peace, even if only for a moment.
 
The caravan trekked on for a few miles to the place where they would trade with the humans. A few members of Chief Greshlyrr’s raiding party had come along to protect the cargo and keep a watchful eye out for the goblins that sometimes stalked these hills. They flanked the caravan, carefully watching for any sign of ambush.
This marked Svent’s first trip to the surface world. His eyes studied every unique and mysterious sight. Foliage was something new for young Svent. He was only used to seeing moss and roots in his underground world. Nothing like these mighty trees that stretched higher than he could’ve imagined was possible. It was all so foreign to him. Every scent in the air and every distant noise was an exotic treat for him to behold. Then in the distance he saw the great volcano, Eversmoke.
The caravan reached the clearing outside of the village Banathar. Already there were humans of every shape and size setting up market stalls. This was the monthly rendezvous here in Banathar. Every sight delighted Svent. He was soon put to work helping the kobold merchants set up their stalls. Once he was done, he was told not to wander too far. Svent walked around the market truly amazed by all the he saw. He was only able to understand just a few words that the humans spoke. Eventually Svent found his way to a wagon with no customers. An older human sat behind a small table with assorted weapons on it.
In Draconic the old man said to Svent, “if you’re looking for adventure, you best start with the right weapon.”
 
“You know my language?” Svent was taken back.
“Yes, some folks in my line of work find it useful to learn. So, what’ll it be? A dagger? A short bow, perhaps?”
“I’m afraid that I have no coin. I’m not a merchant.”
“Then what brings you to the market then young kobold?”
 
Svent looks around cautiously, making sure no one will hear, “I’ve come to escape my life in the mines. I don’t want to go back.”
The old man laughs. “A lone kobold with no coin will not get far in this cruel world. Tell me why you thought this was going to be a good idea?”
“About a month ago I found the body of a long dead human deep in the mines of Eversmoke. An orb of light transferred from the body to me. And now sometimes a voice speaks to me.”
 
The old man furrows his brow and scratches his chin. “I am intrigued by your tale. Tell me, what does this voice say to you?”
 
“It told me to leave my life behind and to head out into the world as an agent of chaos. If I embraced the chaos, then I would become a conduit of power.”
“Hmmm… and have you noticed any powers?”
 
“No, but I guess I haven’t really tried either. Maybe I could try something now?”
The old man waved his hands. “No, stop! This is not the place to test your powers.”
Svent stepped back from the old man. His feelings hurt.
 
The old man sighed. “This land is no place for wizards or sorcerers to practice freely. Believe me, I should know. I tell you what. Whenever I leave Banathar today, I am headed back to my home in Daroush. You can join me if you would like.”
 
Svent liked the sound of the offer, but could he trust the old man? Did he have a choice? He could with the old man. Or he could try his chances alone in the wild. Or he could return to the mines.
“My name is Svent.”
 
The old man smiled. “And I am Niksen Sannath, but most just call me Old Nik. I know what you’re thinking. Can you trust Old Nik? The first rule of adventuring is trust no one. You had best go on back to the mines young Svent. Work hard and grow old. That’s the honest life.”
Svent was confused and sad. He remembered thinking that he would rather be killed by a gnome than to continue on as a miner. So even if Old Nik kills him or puts him in a cage, its still preferable to dying in the mines.
 
“No, I want to go with you. I can’t go back.”
 
Old Nik laughs. “Very well, we shall leave in an hour or so. In the meantime, you can hide in my wagon. The journey will take a few days.”
“Will you teach me to speak Chondathan on the way?”
 
“I will try, but it may take a bit longer than that for you to become fluent.”
 
And so, a little after high sun, the old wizard Niksen loaded his trinkets and weapons up into his wagon. He readied his horse and left Banathar before the other kobolds had noticed that Svent was missing. When they were a few miles from town, Old Nik told Svent that he could come out of hiding and ride up front with him. They would pass very few travelers where they were going.
 
The two made conversation long into the late afternoon. As the sky began to darken, Niksen looked for a suitable campsite. He sent Svent out to gather firewood.
“You will need to perform some chores to earn your keep young Svent. Whenever you finish with the wood, I’ll show you how to feed the horse.”
Svent felt happy for the first time in his life. Days quickly passed. Soon Svent found himself in Niksen’s cottage on the edge of Daroush. He was doing well with his Chondathan. Once he got a little better, Old Nik promised to teach him of the Weave. Niksen was taking quite a liking to young Svent. He was like a child and a pet all in one. Besides it had been a long awhile since Old Nik could regularly converse with someone.
 
Weeks began to pass. Svent was having little success accessing the Weave. He became frustrated even though Old Nik told him to be patient. One night after Nik had fallen asleep, Svent decided to take a walk. He decided to tempt fate and call out to Iz Tar Graf.
 
“I have done as you have asked. I left my old life behind. I’m trying to connect to the Weave so I can be an agent of chaos like you requested.”
“The Weave is not for you. Open your mind and I shall pass the power on to you.”
 
Svent stood frozen. He could not believe that Iz Tar Graf had answered him. So many time had he tried reaching out to no avail.
“My mind is clear and open.”
 
Svent sees a red glowing orb appear before him. It lengthens and takes the shape of a dagger. It flies toward him, piercing his mind. Pain floods Svent’s body and he falls to the ground.
 
“We shall know within the ten day if this power transfer was successful.”
 
Svent awoke early the next morning to a splitting headache. He told Nik every detail of what had happened the night before. Old Nik thought that maybe Iz Tar Graf was putting Svent on the path to be a sorcerer, but he wasn’t sure. So Nik schemed up some possible exercises for Svent to try over the next ten day. Svent was dedicated. He followed every instruction Nik gave him. He tried as hard as he could. Though there still seemed to be no spark of power. Ten days passed, leaving Svent depressed. He thought that maybe he wasn’t good enough to wield magic. He was hopeless. Nik tried to reassure him that he needed patience. Again he wandered out into the night air and called forth to Iz Tar Graf.
 
“You chose the wrong one! I cannot be your agent of chaos.” Svent fell to the ground in tears.
“There is one more possibility that I know. But it comes at great cost. If this fails, you will die.”
Svent looked up to see the orb floating in the air.
 
“I will do it. I will do it or die trying.”
“Very well then. You are going to open yourself up to powers outside this plane of existence. In doing so you will be at the mercy of these forces from beyond. They may kill you. They may enslave you. Or they may reward you with true power. Are you ready?”
“Yes”
 
The red orb grew in size and fully enveloped Svent. His mind felt like it was tearing in two. He saw flashes of light. He floated in ether. Stars moved past him. A thousand voices screamed at once. And then it was over. Svent fell lifeless to the ground. Minutes passed before he awoke. He scrambled to his feet.
“I survived!”
“Then show me.”
 
Svent reached out his clawed hand and a burst of purple energy shot forth. The blast hit a small tree and it exploded.
“That is your Eldritch Blast. It shall be your primary weapon. You have no need for spell books. You need not pray every dawn to a god that never speaks back. You don’t need to embrace nature. Or to become a champion of law and order. You are an agent of Chaos. You are a warlock.”
 
The sound of the Eldritch Blast had awoken Niksen from his slumbers. He came racing outside to see what was the matter. There he saw little Svent standing near a burning tree. Svent turned towards Old Nik, purple energy still glowing around his right hand. Niksen readied himself for battle, not sure what would come next.
Then Svent spoke, “Nik, I’m a Warlock!”
 
“Are you a good one?”
“I’m not sure.” Svent finally sentenced what Nik was getting at. He dropped his hand to his side. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“Do you want to see my Eldritch Blast?”
“Alright, maybe this time you could target something other than my peach tree.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry Nik. I didn’t mean to blow up the peach tree.”
“It’s alright. Try hitting the scarecrow in my garden.”
As Svent raised his right-hand purple energy began to encircle it. Then a blast shot out causing the scarecrow to completely vaporize.
Niksen laughed. “That’s probably enough for tonight. We’ll have plenty of time to practice.”
 
 
In the coming days, Svent trained with his Eldritch Blast honing it in on target. Working to push its range to the limit. Life seemed perfect. Svent was content. After another full ten day, Svent was visited by Iz Tar Graf again.
“It is time for you to learn your first Invocation.”
“Is that like a spell?”
“Yes, but first we need to fix something. Your kobold voice is absolutely dreadful. It’s so shrill and high pitched. I cannot stand listening to it. Since you’re going to live among the humans, I’m going to give you a charming human sounding voice. One that commands authority.”
“Ahhh… okay…”
“See that’s what I mean, it’s just awful. Here we go.”
The red orb appears and enters Svent’s throat.
“There, now let me hear you speak.”
“What should I say?” Svent cannot believe his ears. He sounded like a man.
“That’s much better. Once you learn how to truly be a warlock, you’ll gain confidence and with that voice… you’ll find yourself quite charismatic in no time. Now let’s work on your invocations.”
 
With Iz Tar Graf’s gifts and Niksen’s guidance, Svent gained some true experience as a warlock. He learned how to Detect Magic at will. He learned how to form his Eldritch Blast into a spear and hit targets at great range. Then at Iz Tar Graf’s insistence, he learned Beguiling Influence over people.
Then one day a group of humans came calling on Old Nik. The party consisted of four humans, three male and one woman. Svent had a difficult time telling their ages, but he guessed that they must be in their late teens. It seems that this group came to ask Nik if he would aid them in their quest. They had a partial map of nearby ruins. They had heard tales of treasure there. They wanted to give up their lives as farmers and shopkeepers. Old Nik just laughed at them.
“I’m too old. My adventuring days are long behind me. But my apprentice here would be honored to go along. He may not look like much. But he is quite powerful.”
The man with the sword at his side, “He’s a caster?”
Svent spoke up, “I am a warlock. I can call upon powerful forces and summon a devastating Eldritch Blast to cut enemies down where they stand.”
The party looked at each other for a moment. Then the swordsman spoke up, “We’ll give you a shot. But until you’re battle proven, you’ll only receive a half share of the loot.”
Svent looked to Niksen.
“I think I’ve taught you all that I can. Go out into the world. I’ll be here if you need anything.”
 
And just like that, Svent was a member of an adventure party. He proved himself in battle quickly. Those goblins didn’t stand a chance.
Over the next few years he traveled with them. This new party became his friends. There was Glarrick Noosen, son of a farmer and handy with a sword. Then there was his axe wielding brother Tummuc Noosen. Their father had died and they desperately money to help their sickly mother. The party healer was the daughter of the innkeeper in Daroush. Her name was Mina Sharck and she had studied with the village priest. Finally, there was Harrin Feddel. He was raised as an apprentice tailor. But somehow, he was amazing with a bow and could track game.
The team worked out great together. They actually began to find a decent amount of treasure. And they all got better and better at their various talents. Svent was even able to stay with Old Nik during their downtime. In all of his youthful daydreaming Svent could have never envisioned a life like this. This was perfection. Life could only get better.
 
Then came the summer of 1229. Mina had used her feminine skills to get a lead on a new hidden loot cache. Further west in tunnels under the mountains there was said to be the ruins of a lost dwarven temple. They party expected an easy dungeon delve. And at first that’s what they were greeted with, a few zombies led by a half-orc necromancer. But as the tunnels continued on, they noticed that they were traveling uphill, higher and higher into the mountain. Whenever they reached the temple ruins, they discovered a hole smashed into the side of the mountain. A dragon had taken up residence in the dwarven temple. Svent, plead with the party to turn around. Their greed got the better of them however. Harrin studied the lair and believed the dragon to be gone. The party decided to split up so they could quickly check out all of the adjoining rooms and begone. Svent saw a corridor light up with flame and he heard the last horrifying screams of the Noosen brothers. Mina and Harrin turned to run towards the tunnel out. Svent fell to his knees. A silver dragon dove into the main temple blocking the escape route for Mina and Harrin. In a flash they drew their weapons and attacked the dragon. Svent yelled for them to stop and lay down their arms. It was too late though. The silver dragon lashed out at them after he was pelted with arrows. Mina was cut to ribbons by the mighty claw that tore through her. Then the dragon turned and bit Harrin. All that stood of him afterwards was below his beltline. Svent held up his empty hands and pleaded in Draconic for mercy. Silver dragon asked why he had been attacked in his home. Svent said that his friends thought that he was evil and attacked accordingly. He tried to stop them, but it happened so fast. There was no time.
“I am sorry for the actions of my friends. I would prefer to die with them. Kill me.”
“No. That is not my way. You know this to be true for you are kin to dragons. Created from our ancient blood. Besides it is bad luck for a dragon to kill a kobold. Leave here. Never return.”
 
Svent left the mountain. During his trek down he decided not to return to Daroush. He would prefer that everyone believe him dead too. He will miss Old Nik. Maybe someday he will work up the courage to go and see his friend. Months passed and Svent wandered the land. He searched for a new place to call home. He tried Xorhun for a bit but found the citizens rather intolerant. So he decided to head for Hlondeth. He had heard that kobolds live in peace there, side by side with humans. It might be the only land in all the world where kobolds can do this. It was probably time that he live among his own kind again. He was, however, unwilling to give up living in the sunlight.
“It’s just you and me now, Iz Tar Graf.”

Age

13

Date of Birth

1217 CY

Gender

Male

Eyes

Reddish-Orange

Hair

None

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Dark Green

Height

2 ft 2 in

Weight

40 lb