Several others laughed at the comment.
Witt did his best to play the lowly kobold. “Oh, you know how it goes. Us kobolds get stuck with the jobs no one else wants. We were tasked with transporting troll dung down to New Hope Cove. We’re just trying to make it home before morning.”
“New Hope Cove, eh? Isn’t that where the regional event is unfolding? They say a golden dragon has awakened in the mountain. I hear…”
Witt zoned out at the mention of a dragon. It had been years since someone had last spotted one. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the dragon appeared at the same time Witt began his path to villainy. This was a sign. And just like a dragon, Witt would show no mercy.
“Let us take a look in your wagon and we will let you live.” The hooded figure continued. “Deny us, and this is the last night you’ll ever see.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Witt noticed that Razul had disappeared. Good. Now he just needed to find out how many bandits they were up against. There could be more hiding behind the wagon.
Witt climbed down from the wagon. “Be our guest.”
The others joined Witt, taking several steps back as the bandits approached.
The figure laughed. “And here I thought kobolds were stupid.”
A chill ran down Witt’s spine, and he fought the urge to reach for his dagger. Four figures in similar garb pulled up the rear, leaving their own wagon unattended. Perhaps this wouldn’t end in violence after all. What were a few lost traps in exchange for their safety?
Witt tapped Hux on the shoulder and pointed toward the bandits’ wagon. If they could make it to the other wagon, then perhaps they could escape before the bandits knew what was happening. Hux nudged Olah and Zirn in the arm and nodded his head in the same direction.
As the bandits moved closer, they appeared even more threatening. The leather armor they wore was studded around the breast and shoulders. Each bandit wore an assortment of daggers and knives strapped to their bodies. By the look of them, they weren’t magic casters. If they had been, they likely wouldn’t be on this empty stretch of road. No, these were bullies.
Witt clenched his fist. They were no better than the heroes.
“Keep an eye on the kobolds,” the leader ordered.
Two bandits pulled their swords and pointed them at Witt and company.
“There’s no need for that,” Hux objected.
“What? You think we’re going to let you crafty kobolds attack us unaware—”
The leader froze in place.
“What the he—” There was a slight thunk before a second bandit stood motionless.
The remaining three turned in unison just as three more poisoned darts pierced the leather armor in quick succession, paralyzing the bandits.
Razul popped out from the shadows still holding several darts. He lifted one and examined it. “How long does this stuff last?”
“We’ve got a few minutes before it wears off.” Zirn walked over and kicked the closest bandit in the shin. “They can still feel pain, but they can’t move.”
Razul snarled. “We should gut them where they stand.”
Witt climbed on the wagon and stood in front of the leader. “I like your thinking, Razul, but I have a better plan.”
He lifted the leader’s hood, revealing the bandit’s face. Wide eyes stared back at him. They pulsed with fear as they followed Witt’s every movement. The man’s face was plain except for a scar beneath his right eye. Shaggy brown hair dangled across his forehead.
“Crafty kobolds, is that what you called us?” Witt pulled his dagger and pressed the cold metal to the man’s face. “I think you meant cunning.” He leaned in close, whispering into the man’s ear. “Remember the day that I showed you mercy. When you are ready to become more than a simple bandit, come find me.” He kicked the paralyzed bandit and the body fell to the ground with a crunch. “Razul, you and I will take their wagon. Olah, follow close behind.”
They climbed into the bandits’ wagon. Razul took the reins and whipped the horses into action and they set off at a quick trot.
Witt stood in the back of the wagon, lute in hand. As they disappeared down the road, the crumpled bodies of the bandits began to stir. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
He strummed the lute and sang Song of Swiftness, buffing both wagons with added speed.
“Can I ask you something?” Razul looked over his shoulder.
“What is it?”
“Why let them live? They would have killed us without thinking twice. They probably would have killed us after looting the wagon if we hadn’t been prepared.”
Razul was right. They probably would have killed them, but Witt was thinking about the long game now.
“You’re right. But now the last thing he thinks about every night before falling asleep will be the cold iron of my dagger pressed against his cheek. He’ll know that I could have killed him. I could have taken everything from him, but I showed mercy. He’ll never let his guard down again, and then one day, he’ll thank me for it.”
Chapter Fifteen
The wagon pulled into Murkwell just as the sun began to peak above the mountains. The group had rotated driving throughout the night, so Witt had enough energy to jump into the day. There would be no rest for the wicked, and he was feeling exceptionally villainous. Olah’s boar, on the other hand, snorted and huffed every chance it got.
Several kobolds scurried around the village, already on their way to work.
“Witt, what’s going on?” Kessy stepped in front of the wagon, a pickaxe slung over her shoulder. “I missed you at the fire last night.”
Witt climbed down from the wagon. “It was a crazy night. We killed a few more heroes, outsmarted some bandits, and stole their wagon.” He enjoyed the shocked expression that overtook Kessy’s face. “Murkwell now has its first pair of horses.” He pointed to the wagon Razul was driving.
Kessy tilted her head, mouth hanging open, before finally speaking. “You did what now?”
Witt grinned. “I’ll explain everything shortly. Can you help gather everyone aboveground? I have an announcement to make.”
She scrunched her eyes. “Uh, sure. Give me a minute.”
He turned to his party. “Hux, Zirn, could you help her gather everyone? Razul, help Olah put the wagons away.”
Everyone jumped into action. None of them so much as questioned Witt, either. Whether it was because he had won their respect with his actions or if it was a result of the path to villainy quest line allowing him greater influence over kobolds, he didn’t know. He liked being in charge, though. It felt surprisingly natural.
Witt took a seat atop the giant boulder next to the fire pit and waited for everyone to show up. Slowly, kobolds gathered in front of him. They whispered among themselves, occasionally glancing in his direction. There was an electricity in the air. Things were about to change in Murkwell.
When Hux, Kessy, Zirn, and Razul joined, he strummed his lute, gathering everyone’s attention. A familiar coolness washed over Witt as all eyes fell on him.
“Thank you for gathering here this morning. I know many of you are anxious to get to your posts for the day. Do not worry, I’ll keep this brief, but it is of great importance to all kobolds, for I intend to change our very way of life.”
Whispers snaked through the crowd. He waited for them to die down before continuing.
“It’s no secret that kobolds have been the laughingstock of society for ages. Once we were respected. Our ancestors were born of the same fire that the first dragons crawled from to shape the world. Now, we find ourselves lower than the green-skinned vermin they call goblins. Sure, some of us have risen to prominence like Hux or Zirn here, but even they have suffered. Orcs, humans, dwarves, elves, it makes no matter what race they are, they treat us like we are nothing. They use us to mine, to farm, to keep their cities prospering, but they do not respect us. The heroes treat us worst of all.”
Several kobolds gasped at the last line.
“Yes, for too long we have served the heroes thinking that they were the saviors of the world. Because they complete quests, clear dungeons, and battle monsters. The truth is that they are the monsters we should be battling. They are not our saviors. I do not doubt that every one of you has suffered at their hands. Up until now, the cruel injustice of the gods has kept those memories from you. Today it ends, because I am done being a plaything of heroes, and it is high time they learn that kobolds have our hands all over this world. And if they don’t watch out, we’ll tear it all apart!”
He strummed his lute again. Kobolds hissed and roared as Witt lifted his fist into the air. His newly gained points in Charisma must be paying off, because he had never seen them so enraged outside of Inspired Frenzy.
He’d won them over without having to tell them of the many deaths he’d experienced. He no longer had to justify his actions to have the support of his people. Looking out at the crowd before him, Witt had his very own army. Now, he just needed to learn how to use them. Taking a small group to ambush an unsuspecting caravan was one thing. Leading an entire village was quite another. His responsibility had always been to the village, but now the village itself was his responsibility.
“That is all for now. Go to your posts and keep a vigilant eye on the heroes you encounter. They must not suspect that we know their true motives. Tonight, I will have more information.”
The crowd dispersed and Witt joined Hux and the others. “It’s time to start defending Murkwell. Zirn, we need all the tinkerers you can find. Kessy, we need laborers. Pull a handful of miners and assist Zirn with setting traps. Razul and Hux, meet me in my burrow. I have plans to discuss.”
As everyone dispersed, Kessy grabbed Witt by the shoulder and pulled him aside. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” He thought he’d explained pretty well what was happening.
“Something has changed. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but… you’ve changed. It’s like I’m inclined to believe everything you say without questioning it.” Her hand drifted from his shoulder to his chest, and she curled all her fingers except one, pointing the claw firmly against Witt’s tunic. Her eyes shrunk to slits. “You know that’s not how I operate. If the rest of them want to follow you like mindless goblins, then so be it, but I want answers.”
Witt stared at Kessy. Somehow she was evading his influence. Was it because she was his oldest friend, or was there more at play?
“I’ve been offered a quest.” Witt told her again of the heroes and his adventures since his reawakening. Her eyes went wide at the mention of their battle with the heroes at the Pit of Despair.
“I killed a hero?” She held a hand over her mouth.
“You did a pretty good job, too.” Witt smiled.
Kessy laughed. “It sounds a lot more exciting than swinging a pickaxe all day. If it gets us some respect, then I’m all in. But no more secrets. If I’m going to help you with this, I want to know everything.”
By early afternoon, Zirn had gathered four other tinkerers that worked in Skullheyden and brought them back to the village. They paired up with twenty miners hand-selected by Kessy and went about the defense of the village. By the time the rest of the community started returning for the evening, nearly half the entrances into Murkwell were laden with traps designed to capture, maim, and kill intruders. The traps grew progressively more deadly the further someone pushed into the village.
Scouts would supervise the traps at night in order to protect everyone while they were asleep. They would also be responsible for raising the alarm.
Witt hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Things were still too new to put the village at risk.
He’d spent the day brainstorming his ideas for leveling up Murkwell with Hux and Razul. Tonight, they would put them to use.
As twilight came and coated the forest in the shade of night, kobolds drank and ate. Occasionally, one would approach Witt, informing him of the things that they had witnessed heroes doing. No one had seen a hero kill a kobold, but they were asking questions, specifically if anyone knew of The Cunning Kobold.
Word is traveling fast. Even more reason to lay low for a while.
Witt stood up, preparing to gather everyone’s attention with his lute, when Cerent, the hunter from the neighboring village, came sprinting down one of the paths.
He came to a stop at the fire pit and leaned forward, hands on his hips as he gasped for air.
“What is it?” Hux rushed to his side. “What has you in such a fuss?”
“It’s Swampside,” Cerent panted. “It’s under attack. They’re burning our village to the ground.”
“Who!?” Witt jumped down and grabbed Cerent around the arms, shaking him violently. “Who!?” He had a feeling he already knew the answer.
Kessy pried Witt’s hands away. “Stop shaking him, and let him speak.”
“It’s the heroes. They said they were on a quest and if we didn’t tell them who The Cunning Kobold was, they would kill us all. I couldn’t make it into the burrow, so I came here for help.”
Cold anger flared inside Witt. “Hux, Razul, come with me. The rest of you find safety. I want all of the traps set as soon as we leave.”
Kessy stepped in front of Witt. “What about me?”
He placed a hand on her arm. “Keep everyone safe. I need to find out what is going on. Whatever you do, don’t let your guard down. They could be coming here next.”
Witt played Song of Swiftness as they ran. Swampside was on the other side of Skullheyden, closer to the Forgotten Quarters Dungeon, but if they cut through the forest it would save them close to an hour.
Due to Swampside being further from the mountain than Murkwell, their village provided more farmers and hunters than anything. Kobolds toiled in the fields for long hours harvesting the produce that many of Skullheyden’s residents took for granted. Death to their workforce could have far-reaching ramifications.
Maybe you’ll finally realize how valuable we are to society.
Witt’s thoughts raced as they ran through the forest in silence. The bounty on his head must have grown in order to cause this. Most of the heroes might not know who he was yet, but they knew of his title. It seemed that was enough.
He could trust the kobolds of Murkwell not to reveal his true identity, but he wasn’t sure if his influence affected those outside of his village. It was only a process of elimination before they descended on Murkwell as well.
The smell of smoke drifted through the air, and Witt slowed down. A fiery glow from Swampside cast the trees in an eerie light.
“Razul, take the lead. I want to know who is responsible for this.”
The rogue nodded and stepped silently forward. His natural skills of evasiveness would offer them the best chance at sneaking up undetected.
The glow of the flames grew larger, and the crackle of burning wood filled the air. Muffled yells and the occasional crash of a falling building came from the distance. Razul kept to the shadows and Witt followed his every move.
A young kobold ran through the forest up ahead. She looked back over her shoulder and a moment later, a stumbling dwarf emerged from the bushes in pursuit.
“Get back here! I know you know where he is.”
Witt’s heart pounded. He recognized that voice. The black-bearded dwarf had been a part of Stu’s party. He’d stood idly by and watched every time that Witt had been tortured and killed. His neck grew cool.
Of course, they were responsible.
Witt and company clung to the shadows as the dwarf rogue continued his pursuit. Witt wanted to go deeper into the village, but the opportunity for revenge called to him above all.
“Follow him,” Witt whispered.
Despite being a rogue, the dwarf was loud and clumsy as he tracked the young kobold through the forest. This allowed Razul to follow him from a further distance.
Witt scowled at the bumbling fool. “He’s a part of the dwarf party that killed me repeatedly.
Now, it’s our turn. The next time he stops, we take him out.”
A moment later, the dwarf stood in a clearing, searching for signs of the young kobold. “Screw this. The reward is not worth this hassle.”
He turned to go back to the village, and Witt stepped in his way.
“You!” The dwarf looked shocked. “Stu was right! It was you.”
The dwarf lifted his crossbow and pointed it at Witt.
“Not so fast!” Hux erupted a wall of flame in front of the dwarf, obscuring his vision.
Razul pulled a dagger and his body faded into the shadows.
Witt debated between buffing his allies or going for the kill. An icy patch formed on the back of his neck and slowly crept down his spine. He wanted blood. Blood and vengeance.
He activated Scale Mail and Critical Strike and followed Razul’s barely visible shadow. The sizzle of the flames concealed their movement as they flanked the dwarf from the side.
When the flames faded, the dwarf pointed his crossbow at Hux. “Where did he go?”
“Boo!” Razul revealed himself, startling the dwarf.
An errant crossbow bolt fired into the trees, and the dwarf panicked to load another one. But it was too late. Razul slashed at the dwarf’s neck. The dwarf stepped back and the blade grazed his throat. A fireball exploded against his black leather armor, knocking him to the ground.
This is my time.
Razul went in for the kill, but Witt waved him off. “He’s mine.”
Witt lunged at the dwarf, his arm vibrating with the unspent energy of Critical Strike. The dwarf raised his crossbow, using it as a shield to deflect the blow. The passive energy of Cleave hit him with a wave of splash damage, dropping his health even though he hadn’t taken a direct hit.
The dwarf thrashed, hitting Witt with the butt of the crossbow and knocking him aside. Scale Mail reduced the damage taken, but it still left him dazed as he crawled to his feet.
The dwarf grabbed at his neck where Razul had cut him. He scowled at Witt when he looked down at his blood-covered hand. “Stu was right. You stupid kobolds never learn your lessons.” He tossed his crossbow to the ground and pulled out two daggers. “You want to fight? Call off your friends and let’s fight.”
Path to Villainy: An NPC Kobold's Tale Page 9