Sasbrek's page

Kobold racial traits
Type: Kobolds are humanoids with the reptilian subtype.
Size: Kobolds are Small creatures and thus gain a +1 size bonus to their AC, a +1 size bonus on attack rolls, a –1 penalty on their combat maneuver checks and to Combat Maneuver Defense, and a +4 size bonus on Stealth checks.
Base Speed: Kobolds have a base speed of 30 feet.
Armor: Kobolds naturally scaly skin grants them a +1 natural armor bonus.
Wild Forest Kobold: You're one of the barbaric kobolds dwelling in the forests of the surface world. Your culture shuns artifice, but teaches how to endure the hunt. You gain a +2 racial bonus on Perception and Survival checks, and Stealth and Survival are always class skills for you. This racial trait replaces crafty.
Darkvision: Kobolds can see perfectly in the dark up to 60 feet.

Racial feat: Draconic Aspect (to be followed by Mixed Scales)

Story feat
Shamed: From being a promising scout and heir to dragons, to being beaten by his chief, mocked by his kin; then losing my whole clan to Serpentfolk and having to live like a craven, scrounging and hiding in stronger beings’ shadow to survive. I am a Dragon, godsdammit! I shall wash this dishonor with flame and wings!

Traits
Nexian Prodigy: maybe oddity would be more accurate, rather than prodigy. Nexian archmages found me interesting. Maybe they pitied me, but joke’s on them! They gave me the opportunity to get back on my feet and start planning my most glorious comeback.
Unscathed: I am the son of a DRAGON! Do you understand? Most likely Meraxes the Red Terror. Maybe Krishankia the Scaly Storm. Mmm… no, she lived in a volcano far north, can’t be her. Definitely Meraxes. I think. Anyway: fire can’t hurt me!
Desperate Resolve: Ok, I’ll admit it: I am a small dragon. It’s hard for us, with bigfeet hunting us, dinos trying to eat us, and all the perils of the jungle. If you have the Trueblood in your veins, like me, you learn to waste not even a drop of its power.

Drawback
Pride: Once again: I am a dragon. You don’t disrespect a dragon! You should apologize, or in my fury I will burn you whole!

I am aware that this is a weak character. Sorcerers aren’t that great at low levels; kobolds are intentionally underpowered, and I’m fine with it; finally, the cross-blooded archetype sucks, but it just fits so perfectly with the backstory, and this character may actually get some benefits from it.
EDIT: scrap that, he is not cross-blooded anymore. Well he is (green and red dragon, see Racial Feat), but he does not have the archetype.

By all means, if you have any suggestion crunch-wise I'll welcome them with open arms!

At next level I plan on taking Mixed Scales feat, so that I can get some use out of Draconic Aspect without overlapping with the Draconic bloodline power.

«Central Mwangi Expanse | kobold slave pen in the Serpentfolk’s camp | night, after feeding time»

Translated from poor Draconic

Old Kerrek stretched in his corner and a faint, metallic noise of moving chains accompanied his movement. He cleared his throat. “Hrrr. Hrrerrr.”
The hatchlings came slowly. First was Kissgo, the oldest of the brood, the first to break out of her shell. Then the others came, in silence, surrounding Old Kerrek.
“Mattscale, can we…?”
“Shhh! Close your snout, you hatchwit!” Old Kerrek shushed the impertinent hatchling “Do you want the snakenecks to hear you?”
Every little kobold shook in fear at those words. They sat in silence.
“Ok, ok.” Kerrek conceded “only one of you speak now, and watch your tone.”
It was Kissgo who opened her toothy mouth “Can we… can you tell us the tale of Sasbrek?” she whispered.
Old Kerrek smiled. Yeah, a bit of hope for the young ones, and a cautionary tale for the adults. It was a good tale.
“Fine, fine! Maybe you’ll learn something!”

“Many monsoons ago, the Shivfang Tribe was free in the jungle. Our tunnels were the longest in the world, and you could go from the ocean to Froglog’s Peak without ever surfacing! And our hunting grounds were massive! Hundreds of miles, all covered in forest – luscious forest, that kept the sun away from our red eyes! We had a feast every day, with birdmeat, and lizardmeat, and figs and fish and delicious fat worms! We inherited the land from the great winged Trueblood, and no bigfeet or blackeye dared set foot in our territory!”
“Sasbrek was one of us. He was fast and had a roaring voice, and everyone thought he would make a good hunter. But, ah, you see, he was the Dragonsent! Trueblood flowed in his veins, trueblood of Meraxes the Red Terror! Trueblood of Istrakihyl the Poison King! His scales glowed red in the sun and green in the night, and he could walk in the bonfire without getting hurt! He was destined for great things… but we… we were foolish. Hatchwits. Less brain than a stoutbeard.”

“Sasbrek warned us about the snakenecks. He said they were no better than the bigfeet, they would only hurt us. But Chief Hrisskar didn’t listen. He said that the snakenecks were our scaly brothers, blessed by the winged Truebloods like we are. Together we would’ve ruled the jungle and get rid of the bigfeet.”

“Sasbrek challenged Hrisskar. Scouts came back from the hunt, miners left their tunnels, and the two faced each other in the cave below Froglog’s peak. Oh, you should’ve seen the battle! Drums drumming, scales shining! Hrisskar was a good scout and lethal with the spear. Sasbrek had the Trueblood fire flowing in his veins. They fought, and Hrisskar’s blade drank the blood of the Dragonsent, and in return the Dragonsent burned Hrisskar's scales… like this!” the old kobold sprang forward, startling the little ones. “heh heh. You hatchwits. You would’ve hidden under your old shells if you had seen the real battle."

"The Dragonsent won, of course. Hrisskar was at his feet, and Sasbrek only had to bite his throat off. But the Dragonsent is as wise as his forefathers. He wants what’s best for the Tribe, and Hrisskar was a good scout. Sasbrek didn’t kill the beaten rival, and we took his wisdom for weakness. Hrisskar rallied and was declared our leader, and the Dragonsent was mocked unmercifully.”

“Hrisskar guided us to greet the snakenecks. A great dawn for the dragon’s children! he said. What a fool. What fools we all were." Old Kerrek shook his head “Serpentfolk aren’t dragons, they’re snakes – just like all bigfeet are nothing more than hairless apes… not that hairless, if you think of stoutbeards.” A few hatchlings chuckled.
“Snakenecks… They have no respect for us, and yet we were the first ones that the Trueblood appointed as their successors. Snakenecks killed Hrisskar, and imprisoned us, and forced us to work for this skull-faced god Ydersius. And this is the punishment for our foolishness.”
“But… Mattscale, what about the Dragonsent?”
“Oh, he fled. He is as wise and powerful as his forefathers: after burning one of the snakenecks to a crisp, he vowed to free us and ran away. Now he roams the jungle, terror of terrors, killing dinosaurs and drinking their blood to gain their strength, growing every day into the full Trueblood he deserves to be. When the time comes, Sasbrek will ascend, a fury of scales and fire and fangs, and will descend upon the snakenecks, free us, his foolish brothers, and we will have a true leader to guide us and take back our jungle!”

«Kibwe, merchant city in Eastern Mwangi Expanse | Jimono & Huruga – Expeditions Extraordinaire | late evening»

“I’m telling you I saw him, ‘Ruga, I know what I saw and I saw the kobold!” the gnome’s fists were pushed against his hips, in an exaggerated show of disappointment.
“Right, jus’ like you saw him yesterday and th’day before, roight, Jim?” the old half-orc laid back on her wicker lounge chair, eyes closed, a half-smile at her partner’s extravagant claims. “There’s plenty of’em li’l buggers around, they try an’ sell those disgusting things of theirs. That don’t mean a thing.”
“No, no, you are not listening, you never listen! This one was different! He had red scales, oh! First warning! Jungle kobolds have green scales, and you know it. At least the ones that survive. Aaand, they travel in groups, right? This one was alone!” the gnome started pacing back and forth counting on his fingers.
“So he was lost. Ain’t a big deal, you ask me. He’ll turn up dead in a gutter tomorrow.”
“It is a big deal, and he won’t turn up dead, because he got into one of our caravans! One of ours, the one that goes to Quantium, the one guided by His Very Scary High Transmuter Tarjahd… who can very well turn me into a lizard if he discovers I let a filthy red-scaled kobold sneak into one of his carts.”
“And here we go with this thing again.” Huruga covered her eyes with a large hand “First of all, Tarjahd ain’t no High Transmuter. High Wizards from Quantium teleport in and out of here, they don’t need carts and horses. The fella’s coinpurse is much, much fuller than his spellbook, trust me on that. He is a merchant who knows a coupl’a tricks, and you fell for them like a toddler.”
Jimono was momentarily speechless “But he… I mean you saw it, you saw when… with the chicken...”
“Second, there’s no way this kobold got on the caravan. You just been obsessed for a few days.”
Jimono jumped up “Oh, of course, because you know by heart the content and passengers of each and every one of those… what? Twenty carts? A caravan of twenty carts, and you know everything there is on them.”
“Nineteen carts, and Ah do know the ins and outs of all of’em” replied Huruga “’cause Ah work hard and don’t indulge no paranoia like you do. ”
“But it was him, I’m sure! The same as a couple of days ago, when I told you he snuck in our gates hidden on the back of that Stegosaurus – one form Kopello’s herd.”
“So what, he hitched a ride? Kopello brings the herd of stegos here every year for the butcher, maybe…”
“Kopello hates kobolds! It’s all he talks about at Mary’s Eatery! they snuck in here, they set a trap there, can’t trust them, they crippled my stego, someone ought to do something… he hates them, I tell you!”
Huruga gave up. She lifted herself from the chair and went inside. As she was closing the door, she looked back at Jimono “Yeah, Ah really shoulda known better than to pick an argument with you.” The half orc shook her head “I’m sure you’re right, I’m sure there’s kobold so crazy and desperate to hitch a ride on Kopello’s stegos. So sneaky to get on a Nexian caravan unnoticed. I’m sure he’s so smart they’ll never find him in the three friggin’ months it takes to get to Quantium. You’re right, you win. Now lemme go to sleep, please…”

«Quantium, Nex | Warlock’s Walk | a pleasant early evening»
The sun was setting far behind the desert as the two turban-wearing mages strolled among the fountains.
“Never will you guess, in one hundred and eleven years, who joined the Kilimery expedition to the Heart of Osirion.” said the blue-clad one.
“Well, I do excel at mind-reading spells” answered with a grin the white-robed mage ”but I will indulge your anecdote.”
“Most gracious.”
“Who joined, then?”
“None less than a Mwangi kobold.”
“Oh Nethys’s Mask! And Kilimery welcomed that lowly creature? I cannot honestly believe he could be of any help, let alone possess any magical talent whatsoever!”
“I shared your disbelief initially, and yet I was mistaken. Apparently, the blood of the wyrms is somewhat less diluted in this specimen than usual. He has a… talent, of a sort.”
“Remarkable!” the white-robed mage smiled looking at the horizon “I still fail to understand what such an unfortunate creature could possibly hope to accomplish in the expedition.”
“Many are the secrets of the Art yet to be discovered, my most gracious friend. Apparently the kobold believes to be a… huh… lesser manifestation of true wyrm power, and trusts his apotheosis (into a true dragon, no less!) to be linked with the Aucturn Alignment.”
“Kilimeri was similarly impressed, I assume.”
“She was… after a fashion. Bemused, and maybe amused – if you pardon the wordplay – is a better term for it. The kobold surely has a arcane propensity – only time will tell if it will serve him well against the perils of Osirion.”
“Indeed, my most wise friend, indeed. Shall we head to dinner? I find myself with a craving for caramelized dates…”

Sasbrek lacks the natural malice and cruelty of his fellow kobolds, but retains the cunning and sneakiness. Over the course of the years, his belief of being a true heir of the Trueblood has been at times discouraged: now he has a very tiny doubt about it, but he intends to destroy that doubt. He’s definitely a Trueblood. I think. Anyway, investigating the Aucturn Alignment seems like a good place to start. Also there is a legend about a large tribe of kobolds living underneath Osirion, their tunnels sneaking into the ancestral tombs of the pharaohs and wizard-priests of Osirion – if someone can shed light over his heritage, it is them!
His biggest motivation is revenge over the Serpentfolk and desire for realization, either in form of a dragon apotheosis or a similar escalation of power that will allow him to rescue the Shivfang tribe from the hated snakenecks.
Having lived in jungle most of his life, he is only now realizing how much of an oddity he is in the civilized world: for the first time he is faced with prejudice. However, he is genuinely gifted and the times are dire, so his help is more welcome that it would have been a dozen years back, when the world still made sense.
While clashing with the rules of a mostly human society, he is quickly adapting: after all, kobolds are notorious for their ability to blend in their surroundings…

Sasbrek is 3 feet tall and weighs slightly less than a wet poodle. His scales look like worn-out copper, and they shimmer with a reddish hue in the light while looking more brownish-green in the dark. His teeth are many and pointy, as all members of Shivfang tribe takes great pride in them and thinks they are his most attractive feature. He shares the big, crimson eyes of most young kobolds.
He abandoned the tribal clothes made of leaves that he wore in the jungle for a silk outfit that fits ill upon his body, as it was made for differently-proportioned halflings. He wears a red silk scarf around his head and throat.
His voice is almost out of place coming out of such a pathetic body: hardly the high-pitched and squeaky rattle of his fellow kobolds, his voice seems born to speak proper Draconic, harsh, scary and imposing language that it is.

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