'My name is Urist Akathgethor, in the reckoning of the dwarves.
In my native tongue..I am called Thajlosin Shachatisfuchruchler.
Whatever language I am named in, I am feared in all lands.
For I am a legendary thief and fighter. Nobody has resisted me yet....
Until now.'
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This is the story of a kobold thief, swept up in events far beyond his own control.
Features blood, kobolds and magma.
(Based on true events, and some parts may be based on a personal mod.)
Urist stood on the the fallen goblin. The goblin had attempted to steal his knife. He had paid dearly for it. The goblin was an insignificant fool, not even worth the worn iron armor he was wearing. The only reason Urist had decided to kill and loot him was because he had tried to steal his knife.
It was a small knife, made of the mysterious green metal discovered by the dwarves a few months ago. He had stolen it from a sleeping guard. It was an easy find. But, the knife was beautiful. It had diamonds carved into the hilt, with menacing spikes of bronze. Inset into the hilt was a beautifully cut star ruby. The knife itself was incredibly sharp, to the point that Urist had managed to kill one of the mysterious automatons using the knife. It was a handy tool, and he had named it Akathgethor, or Winterdirge, his own last name. To him, the knife was more than a weapon. It was a much-loved brother.
Urist himself was a kobold. A thief, to be exact. He had yellow eyes, yellow as the gold in the vaults of the dwarves in their halls of stone. His skin was copper from years on the run. His hands were small, but long-fingered and he was fast and tall, a rarity in the long-suffering kobold race. He could steal you blind and you wouldn't notice. Indeed, many towns had mysteriously lost much of their riches to the infamous thief. However, his skill truly lay in his knife. He could kill you a thousand ways with a knife, and he could use 5 of them on you in a single fight. Though he could talk you into buying your own skin, rob the clothes off of your back, and hide so well you could walk over him and you wouldnt notice, he was truly at home using a knife.
'So, another green-skinned scumbag just tried to nick my knife? Well, tough luck, mate, it's MY knife,' he said and kicked the goblins body as he started running away. The goblins seemed to have a strange belief they could defeat him in battle with numbers. 'Numbers? I could plant a knife into their backs before they even noticed I even set foot into their land,' he thought. Which was before he was struck in the back with a fireball. Urist screamed.
He looked behind. A man in red robes stood their, fireball in his hand. 'Who in the name of Armok are you?' said Urist. 'I....I am nobody, nobody but your doom.', the man responded, and blasted a fireball straight into Urist's face. He felt the sickening feeling of his very skin burning.
'AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGH!'
From there, all Urist felt was pain and extreme heat, until at last...
'It seems the legendary thief is fallen. And, since you seem to like your precious knife so much..'
The wizard picked up the knife off the ground. Urist tried to stop him, but he was too injured to even breath. He felt the life rush out of him, slowly..until he felt no more, but for a strange light, which his soul followed...
And led him straight into a siege.
To be continued...
(Sorry if it's bad. It's my first attempt at making a story.)
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Topic: The Winter's Dirge: Story of a kobold thief, caught up in otherworldly events. (Read 601 times)