“A Kobold has three main problems: His Chief, his Race, and his appearance. Any kobold worth his hide knows that the prettier a kobold is, the stronger his stat gains. It’s for this reason that every kobold can immediately identify the next Chief- he’s the male with the shiniest scales, the best weapons, the strongest arm. Nobody crosses the Chief, because he will beat you into submission and take your things, and nobody crosses the next chief because he’ll do the same thing. Nobody has anything better than they can keep and protect, and everyone can see immediately who’ll win a fight before it starts. It’s an odd sort of peacekeeping, but it works.”
Nathaniel looked over the wiki entry for Kobold, one of the races available for Final Escape, and sighed internally. Not only was the only information useless, it was also depressing. One of the major drawbacks of paying for early access was the complete lack of information going in. He settled back into his chair and began to write backstory. After all, even though he’d gotten stuck with Kobold, he might as well have a well-defined Kobold. He wondered vaguely if it was karma for rolling a virtual 13-sided die to determine his starting race. Such an impossible shape deserved some kind of retribution from the Random Number Gods.
“Kraant is a typical member of the dragon-kin race Kobold. He stands at a moderate 1.2 meters, with a slight gloss to his white-dappled hide. He is a bit more black than green, which is uncommon, but it is the white dapple that really put him on the shit-list of his tribe. His fangs protrude a decent amount, not so much as to be garish but enough to allow him some self-respect as a male of the species, and his upper-left fang has a small carving in it- a book, open, surrounded by rays as if it were putting out light. His talons are short, and his fingers are long and delicate. This allows him to effectively weave and tie the difficult components of traps, which were his main occupation before he struck out into the world. He knew what was coming- someday soon, either the Chief or his successor would find a way to catch Kraant unawares and put him out of their misery. Better to flee now.”
Nathaniel smiled and looked over his Legend, before uploading it to his profile on the game’s forums. It would automatically update over time as he played the game, but he’d heard it had the potential to make the starting situation more unique. Nothing game-breaking, of course, nothing too powerful or special, but enough to let a player really feel like they stepped into the shoes of a living creature.
He saw that his update’s progress bar had reached the point where he could enter Character Generation and the initial phases of the game, so he went over to his new VR cocoon. It was a simple pod, not unlike a hammock inside a metal potato. He lay down on the cradle and the lid whooshed shut over him, and he fell immediately into the world of Final Escape.
“Welcome, Nathaniel. Your Legend indicates a starting race of Kobold. Is this correct?”
Nathaniel had to think yes several times before the menu reacted, and he wasn’t sure if it was the lower-end VR cocoon or his inexperience with the technology that caused the issue. Hopefully, the latter. He had spent too much on this cocoon for it to be that terrible.
“Please assign Attribute Points and choose Class. These may be done in any order. Racial Attribute bonuses, as well as attribute upper/lower limits have been applied.”
Nathaniel hit randomize. He wanted to play for money, of course, but starting stats weren’t likely to really pigeon-hole him into a long-term role, he figured. At worst, he might get some obnoxious comments from viewers of his streamed adventures, but he could deal with that. Adversity breeds creativity!
Ability
Power
Control
Charisma
Morality
Knowledge
Sense
Luck
Value
2 (2/4)
4 (1/8)
2 (2/4)
0 (-2/+2)
3 (1/4)
2 (2/2)
5 (0/5)
Effect
Improve Phys. Atk., Max Load, Max HP
Improve Dodge%, Ranged Atk., Crit.%
Exacerbate Perception
Determine Perception
Improve Knowledge, Recall, Max MP
Determine Correct Paths
Improve Loot drops, Crit.%, P/G/S/C drops, Boss spawns, Other
Wow. A lot of creativity, apparently. He looked at the classes, verifying that the reviewers hadn’t left something out.
Class (basic)
Warrior
Thief
Magus
Favored Abilities
Power, Charisma
Control, Luck
Knowledge, Sense
They hadn’t. Three classes, and each required at least one stat that he was terrible in. A Warrior needed to be in the front lines, so a small and weak Kobold was almost definitely a bad candidate, even if he had maximum Power and Charisma, which he didn’t. A Thief needed fine Control and high Luck, which actually weren’t too bad, but he knew from the forums that almost half of the players who’d payed for early access planned to play as Beastkin, and most Beastkin sub-races had a higher minimum Control stat than he’d rolled. Some had 8 as their absolute lowest possible Control rating. That left Magus, which… well, his Luck was high enough to prevent or mitigate a lot of spell-fumbles, and Magus left a lot of room for improvement. Also, frankly, he’d pretty much planned to be a mage no matter what. He’d carved a spellbook into his tooth, for the Gods’ sake, he wasn’t about to let his starting stats get in the way of an immersive RPG spell-slinging battle. With any luck, maybe his high racial maximums in Control and Luck would give him some sort of spell-modification or Wild Magic feature. Hah. As if a Kobold would have meta-magic.
He was given another chance to tweak his appearance, presumably because nobody wanted to create a character and then find out their stats or class were horribly mismatched to their looks, but he was pretty happy with what he had input to his legend. Nathaniel mentally clicked confirm, and his world went… sideways-ish. The light surrounded him, melted his flesh and seared his eyes, his brain, burnt away his soul…
Kraant looked up at the rocky ceiling of his smelly, dirty mine for the thousandth time. He missed home. Home, the stalactites dripped into little pools instead of plinking onto stalagmites. Home, the rocks had a faint tinge of green from the copper. Here, it was just red hematite, red irongems, and red blood.
Kraant felt a hobnailed boot dig into his side, and groaned.
“Get up, you useless sack of bones. I need a new liver.” Kraant recognized the voice of Rrrobert, the Frogkin overseer of this part of Irongem Mine C-137. Rrrobert was the only word in Frogkin that Kraant knew. It meant “Asshole”. At least, to him it meant that.
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“Yes sir, I have one liver now and a new one due in two days.”
“I dunno that I asked what you were getting, Bones. You have a liver. Give it to me.” And Rrrobert stuck his… well, ‘hand’ is a strong word, but his appendage into Kraant’s side. Kraant passed out while Rrrobert dug around feeling for a liver, which was probably to his benefit. He wasn’t a huge fan of looking at his own innards. Not sure who is, really, but that’s a question for later.
Kraant woke up in agony. His whole body was shaking, and he instinctively rolled onto his right side and clutched at his stomach. This earned him a sharp kick in the chest, which flipped him onto his left side- and drove his elbow into the bandages wrapped around his torso. He screamed, he bled, and then he passed out.
Kraant woke up in agony. His body didn’t seem to obey his mind, but he couldn’t really form thoughts even that complex. He mostly thought about fire, and pain. He was wrapped in a blanket and lifted off the ground, but all he could tell was that his ribs hurt a little less than a second ago. He passed out again.
Kraant woke up in absolute bliss. His whole world was white light, contentment, and the faint, far-off music of harps. He was pretty sure he was dead, and figured maybe he’d like to see those Gods he’d heard about.
Kraant woke up with a start. His lights, his music, his happiness were suddenly gone, leaving him instantly alert and somewhat… hollow. But, he realized, his body felt fine! No pains anywhere. He looked around, and panicked a little. The room was about three Kobolds high, and probably… 8-ish meters to a side, which meant that this was clearly some very important place. This was emphasized by the large windows of real glass, through which streamed actual sunlight, and the bookshelves along one wall- which held real books, even! Swanky. The real nerve-wracker, though, was the Stock-Keeper leaning over him. The Stock-Keepers were not inherently intimidating, but they had powers- magic, access to the ration tables, money… No, a mere Kobold organ-farmer never wanted to be seen by, let alone under the direct scrutiny, of a Stock-Keeper.
The Stock-Keeper twitched its long whiskers, rubbed a paw across its horned skull and rubbed its beard. It seemed… confused? No, nobody with that much power and knowledge could be confused. That’s crazy-talk, Kraant.
“Your name, Little Cousin?” The Stock Keeper even spoke with a fancy accent, but Kraant could sort of figure out the meaning. But he would never presume to answer a question clearly directed to a true Dragonkin’s family!
“…”
“Ah, right.” The Stock-Keeper rubbed its face again. “I, Lung-Tze, Fourth Record-Keeper of the Irongem Mountain Mines, authorize and command you to speak, 74th Kobold Organ Donor Kraant.”
“Yes sir!” Kraant tried to get off the bed so he could bow properly, but Lung-Tze stopped him.
“No, don’t get up. Do you know why you are here?”
“I got my last liver taken by… an overseer- who I tried to warn, it’s not my fault that he didn’t care about the stock records!- and then… I died?”
“No, but I could forgive you your mistake. You’re here because you didn’t die. You’ve spent the last several hours being healed, true, but that was simply to get you mobile as soon as possible. By the time we’d found you after your failure to report for transplant, you’d already grown most of a new liver. It had, admittedly, been several days that you’d lain on the floor, so I had you brought here so I could study you.” Lung-Tze cocked his ancient, wrinkly head to one side. “You’re not following, are you? Let me condense the story.
“You grew a new liver while starving and bleeding out. You bled more than I probably could without dying, and I am almost twice your size… You shouldn’t have had that much blood in your whole body. Not one creature came to eat you while you bled and shivered, and even getting the overseer to bring you here made him physically ill. Essentially, I think you have a rare and powerful type of magic. I think you unlocked, somehow, the life magic that Kobolds used to have.”
“I’m… special?” Kraant was more flabbergasted that he might in anyway be useful or even powerful than by the fact that his whole race, the weakest of Dragonkin, the highest form of vermin, may once have held special magic.
“Extremely special. And I will study you, and train you, to make you even more special and to see what we can do with this power.” Lung-Tze smiled. “You will hate me at first, I suspect.”
“No, Fourth Record-Keeper, never!” Kraant started to quake all over.
“I know that most of our Kobolds already hate the Stock-Keepers, thinking us simply spineless Overseers, but trust me, you will hate me in particular. I am not bothered by this, so don’t bother lying about it. In fact…” Lung-Tze’s eyes began to glow, and Kraant could see that they were milky and white, buried deep beneath those heavy brows. “Kraant, you are no longer 74th Organ Donor. You are 1st Disciple of Magic beneath Lung-Tze, Fourth Record-Keeper. You will answer him honestly at all times, obey all commands, and act according to his wishes.”
At this point, Kraant felt a mild buzzing in his head, and when he turned his mind’s eye on it, it blossomed into a transparent window between himself and Lung-Tze.
Geas: Lung-Tze
Due to the difference in power and authority, this contract will instead be considered a Geas.
You will abide by the terms as follow:
~You will honestly answer any question posed to you by Lung-Tze
~You will obey to the letter any command directly issued by Lung-Tze
~You will act, when not directly under orders, in whatever way you think Lung-Tze would most prefer.
Geas can only be broken by the issuer. Due to the nature of Geas, you are not bound to the spirit of the contract. The terms of the Geas cannot be broken, so there is no penalty for breaking them.
Do you accept? Y/N
Kraant immediately thought ‘No!’, and the window closed. He instantly felt the buzzing in his head return, and the same window greeted him. He sighed, and chose to accept. Lung-Tze’s eyes stopped glowing, and he smiled.
“Good! Now we can begin. Open your Status window.”
“How do you know about-“ Kraant only got halfway through his question before his status window opened before him, ending his order to open it, and putting him back under ‘no orders’, which forced him not to ask questions because he doubted that Lung-Tze liked being interrogated by vermin.
Kraant fucking hated his Geas.
Identity and Attributes
Name
Kraant
Power
2
Load Cap.
4 stone
Race
Kobold*
Control
4
Stamina
10/10
Age
22
Charisma
2
Spells
0/2
Size
3’11”
Morality
0
-
-
M.Class
Magus*
Knowledge
3
-
-
S.Class
Trapper
Sense
2
-
-
HP
3/3
Luck
5
-
-
MP
6/6
Authority
0.5
-
-
* Denotes special, hidden modifiers. These can be examined only by the statholder or a Divine-level Appraisal.
Classes
Life Magus
1/10
00%
Trapper
3/10
87%
Skills, Abilities, Arts, and Spells
Skills
Abilities
Arts
Spells
Endurance
1
4%
Regenerate 1
MAX
MAX
Craft: Traps
3
98%
Ward: Living
1
56%
Detect Trap
2
3%
Stealth
4
7%
Detect Living
1
0%
Equipment
Head
Torso
Lower Body
Arm, L
Arm, R
Leg, L
Leg, R
Hand, L
Hand, R
Accessories
Loincloth
Iron Manacle
Iron Manacle
Iron Manacle
Iron Manacle
Iron Ring of Limited Telepathy
Legend
Kraant was dissatisfied with his life as a trapper in the Kobold-controlled Hematite Mine 175-B, and left his home and clan behind. He was able to last a few days before his first encounter with the Higher Races, and was captured by a band of elven bandits. He was sold into slavery, brought to the Irongem Mountain Mine 34-C, and used for organ storage. He was nearly killed by Rrrobert, but was saved by the timely intervention of Lung-Tze. He was put under Geas by Lung-Tze, due to his special Main Class of Life Magus.
“Interesting.” Lung-Tze stroked his beard, with only a slight curl of his lips marking what might, potentially, be a smile, if you were optimistic.