King Crayden's Crooked Crown

It all began in a wooded land north of the Hammershard Mountains. The sun painted dappled patterns on the ground through the leaves of the trees in the summer. The moisture in the air seemed to be pleasant, rather than oppressive, and a rabbit was peacefully partaking of a pilfered parsnip.
Unsensed by anything, however, was the King, Crayden. He was a tall fellow, and as lithe as the shifters on the hunt. He was a goblin, one of the few to aspire to bureaucracy. When the previous king died with no heir, Crayden was the first to step up to take over the affairs for their little kingdom in the forest. He managed them well for a while, but soon began taking in excess the pleasures of royalty. That was why he was out here on a hunt for the creatures stealing his vegetables instead of with his people when disaster struck. A dragon the color of a purple rose, who had been upset over the paltry tithes he’d been paid in recent months came to demand his due.
He would only parlay with the king, but the king was nowhere to be found. Enraged at being stiffed and then ignored, the dragon let off a massive roar that jolted the rabbit into action just before being hit by the King’s arrow. It had been a shot that he’d been lining up for at least a minute, so he was understandably upset.
Back in his beleaguered kingdom, the dastardly dragon was demolishing the dormitories of the defenders, ending their resistance before it could truly be mounted. The dragon then went about killing the rest of the kingdom’s capitol, killing everyone but a young goblin by the name of Gor'Der, who had hidden exceptionally well after the dragon’s first roar. At first, he swore vengeance on the dragon, but knew that hedidn’t have the power to stop it. He wandered through the streets of the city for days, before ending up in front of the castle, just as Crayden was returning. The king asked what the cause of the destruction was, and the boy told him of the dragon that had gone on a rampage.
Crayden saw the youth’s hatred for the creature and smiled inwardly. He knew he could use the traumatized youth to his own ends. He told the youth that he would help him avenge the fallen city, taking him in as his ward. Together, they chose one of the other cities intheir territory to become the new capital, until the old one could be rebuilt and repopulated.
Crayden pushed the youth into his hatred, fueling it, before finally bringing up the idea that he go to a church of Nekrutan, and be educated in the ways of death, so that he could have his revenge on the dragon.
Gor'Der trained for years, amassing the power needed to kill a dragon. Every year, Crayden would ask if he was ready, growing less patient as his treasury was slowly being drained. Each year, Gorder replied that he wanted to make sure the dragon didn’t have a chance. Every night, he prayed to Nekrutan that he would be granted the power to make the one responsible pay.
After nine years he finally felt ready to confront the beast that had taken so much from him. He went to the dragon’s lair, where he found it asleep. He was about to rain death down upon it when he saw a mark on the dragon visible only to the followers of Nekrutan. It was amark of protection; the god knowing the truth of what had happened. Gor'Der then woke the dragon and explained to it the predicament.
The purple dragon laughed, a sound like boulders crashing together in a landslide, and told him the role his king and guardian had played in the demise of his city. Gor'Der’s rage multiplied, even as it switched targets. His king’s incompetence unveiled, Gor'Der returned to the new capital.
Crayden saw Gorder return and went to greet him, eager to hear about the death of the dragon that had been costing him so much over the years. As soon as Gor'Der saw the man who had turned him into a weapon, he used his magic to cocoon the king. He told the king what he had learned from the dragon, and how the king was responsible for the death of his people, not the dragon. Gor'Der watched as Crayden’s eyes widened.
“I have enough power to kill a dragon,” Gor'Der reminded his king “What fraction of that do you think I’ll need for you?”