Orn Longclaw's page

Orn snarled as he watched the hatchlings eat what little food he and his hunting party had brought back. With Merlokrep gone and much of the Truescales wiped out by the softskin interlopers, what few kobolds he had mustered together could barely afford to feed themselves.

"Orn?" Turning, he looked to the slightly pudgy female speaking to him. Mekapa, the tribe den mother, had done her best to help hold the tribe remnants together, but even she was looking a little less than rotund than usual. She'd been skipping meals... many of the adults had been to feed the hatchlings.

"...what, Mekapa? We did our best. I did my best. The softskins take all the good prey and leave us the scraps-" Mekapa shook her head, cutting him off with a raised claw. "It's not that. I... we all know you're trying. You're trying harder to keep us safe than Merlokrep ever did. But... we can't keep up with this. We have no home, our tribe is smaller than ever..." Orn snarled, before folding his arms and turning around to look at the eggs warming in the rags they had rescued from the old snarl. She was right... they were dying. Perhaps they were alive, but they were starving, alone, and unprotected. The Truescales were finished... and he had nothing to do to stop it.

"Orn! ORN! A softskin! There's a softskin coming!" A yappy cry sprang up from nearby, followed by more panicked, scratchy yelps. Mekapa ran to gather up the hatchlings and herd them towards to the incubating eggs as Orn growled, steeling himself for battle. Pulling his talon from the rope belt at his waist, he barked for others to join him and stand between the young kobolds and the intruder. His yellow eyes glared into the dark as he saw the figure step out from the trees. He let out a roar as the others followed suit, hoping to scare off the danger. Instead, it seemed to invite it closer. Closer. Plainly in view now. And... over it's shoulder was a... boar? A big, dead one, from the looks of it. The cloak the creature wore concealed his features, but he looked to be human from the nose down.

At the growls and snarls, the human looked up, raising a hand and smiling. "Easy, please. I mean you no harm. I heard there were kobolds who did not attack the heroes of Falcon's Hollow, and that they had fled the ruins. I wanted to come and speak with your new leader." The spears of the other kobolds seemed to relax slightly, but Orn's flying talon did not lose it's tension. Snarling in his best Common, he spoke to the newcomer. "...I am Orn, of the Truescale tribe. You take a big risk coming here and threatening my kin. What do you want, softskin?"

The human smiled, laying the boar down and pulling off the hood, revealing piercing blue eyes, soft features and long black hair. "To check on you. You did not threaten the heroes of the Hollow, so I figured you weren't so bad. And I even brought a peace offering." She motioned to the dead boar at her feet, stepping back and bowing. "Please. I hope this will suffice." Wary of the gift, the other kobolds looked between the boar and Orn, as if waiting for permission to investigate. Orn continued to glare at the human female. She had some nerve, coming here after her kind nearly wiped out their entire tribe. They had put them on the edge of extinction, and now they wanted to make nice? It all smelled fishy... but it was a substantial amount of food for them. Such a feast did not fall into their laps often... or ever.

Orn stepped closer to the boar and held up the claws of his talon, rending into the beast's flesh and ripping off a chuck. Never losing his glare on the human, he sniffed it, sticking out his tongue and tasting the meat briefly. After a few moments, he clenched the meat and raised his claw to signal it was safe. Kobolds sprang forward to tug the boar's body away and prep it for eating. Mekapa let out a gasp of relief as the hatchlings stared quietly at the stand off between their leader and the intruding human. "...very well. I will here you out. But be aware, if you try anything funny... I will kill you." The human female giggled lightly as she nodded. "Of course, Orn. I wouldn't think of it."

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Orn watched as the other kobolds eat heartily at the feast they'd been given. The human female, whom he'd learned was named Lena, sat next to him, watching the hatchlings scrap for pieces of food in an effort to prove themselves dominant, laughing every so often at their antics. "So... you are a member of this... Pathfinder tribe?" Orn asked, looking back up at the human.

"Pathfinder Society. We're a group of folks who work all across Golarion. Mostly it's to seek knowledge and collect rare objects... but we're given a lot of free reign in how we accomplish our tasks. I'd been assigned to investigate the ruins your tribe used to live in... I had no idea heroes were already in the depths of your home." Orn snarled a little at the mention of the people who'd evicted his kin from their home. Lena's smile immediately ceased seeing his anger, frowning and shaking her head. "Orn, I'm sorry for your tribe's loss. Had I known, I would've done my best to prevent any further bloodshed and save as many of you as I could. I just... had no idea."

"...why are you here, Lena Pathfinder? What do you want with me and my kin?" Lena's frown softened, looking up at the hatchlings again before smiling. "I'd like to help you recover. I come from Absalom... and we actually have a tribe of kobolds living below our city streets. The Sewer Dragons are allies of the Society, and I'm sure they wouldn't mind a few more hands to help them. And you... you have potential, Orn." The kobold glared back with those yellow eyes of his, staring at Lena before speaking. "You do not know me."

"On the contrary, I know quite a bit about you. The adventurers who returned to the Hollow spoke of a kobold who helped them save the children that had been kidnapped. They said he wielded both a strange weapon and magic with dangerous skill, and that without him, they would not have been able to save all the children. You left an impression on them, Orn Truescale."

"...Longclaw. It is Orn Longclaw, now. Our... the Truescale tribe is dead. It was gone even before Merlokrep took over." Lena smiled down at him as he spoke, placing a careful hand on his shoulder. "Orn... I think you would make a very good Pathfinder. And I think you'd like it. You can go on adventures, find magical items and get paid for doing so! And I'm sure we can find a safe new home for your tribe."

Orn stared for a little at the other kobolds, his expression neutral as he replied. "I don't care about adventure, magic items, or money."

"But you care a great deal for your tribe, don't you?" Orn stared silently for a bit longer before looking up at Lena. She smiled back at him. "You've been working hard to protect and provide for them, haven't you? That's admirable, Orn. That'd be a remarkably easy case to offer to my mentor and venture captain. And your skill with both magic and that claw chain of yours--"

"Flying Talon."

"...your flying talon. Is that why you call yourself Longclaw now?" Orn looked at the ground as Lena watched him quietly, finally speaking again. "...let me help you and your tribe, Orn. I will help you and your tribe get to Absalom safely... and in return, you at least try to join the Pathfinders. Please?"

Orn sat quietly as he looked around at the kobolds around him, carousing and yapping happily as they ate well for a change. It was something he hadn't seen his kin do since he was a hatchling himself... years ago. Was this... something he could give his tribe? Were these benefits of being a Pathfinder; having what you needed, when you needed it? It was appealing... his belly was full and his tribe was happy. And while he did not care for money (save for the occasional silver trinket that caught his fancy), he knew it would make getting what he needed for his tribe easier. And to join with a another kobold tribe would help them stay safe...

"...what must I do to become a... Pathfinder?"