Blast Scout

Fighter(Archer), Black scaled Kobold

Description:

Self Given Titles:
-Champion of Muerte
-Controller of Red lightning

Bio:

As he knocks back another swallow of his drink, Blast Scout looks back over his mug at you, firelight from the hearth reflects off his small slitted yellow pupils. Setting the mug back gently on the table, he sighs, “What to tell? Mother laid jet black egg in Onyx Talon Tribe’s Central Nest. After laying, she left and never look back.” He smiles, “Hatchlings raised by tribe.”
“But even then,” a small grin splits his toothy snout, “ I destined to shoot bow. One caretaker in hatchery said she notice my egg had strange marking on it, so she had alerted tribe’s oracles. It was shaped just like arrow, but tribal elders just shrugged it off as scratch from rock under egg and nothing more was said.”
“Now in the Tribe, hatchlings are separated into different groups when they come of age. I was put into the “Lair Defense” group, where I was taught how to fight with weapons, and my tail,” he imparts between bites of spiced potatoes and stewed meat, “ but I’ve always had knack for bows. In fact my first shot hit bull’s eye! Others in class say it just wyrmlings’ luck but I know it a sign! When we practice, others would tell me to shoot for the body because it was easier to hit, but I always liked the challenge of hitting eye or maybe throat.”
Blast sits back for a moment, his clawed hand absently toying with the carved black dragon scale fetish he always keeps tied to his bow-grip. Finally after a few minutes of silence, he seems to have made his mind up about something and continues on, “ After training for years with the Tribe, day came where me and brood mates were brought together again. It was time for us to meet our tribe’s dragon patron, so entire tribe gathered in “Dragon Receiving Chamber”. For over two hundred years, Onyx Talon has served black dragon loyally, she is called Malefitrix the Liquid Shadow.”
A lump seems to rise in his throat as he tries to continue, but he stubbornly swallows it along with another mouthful of potatoes and booze. “That is where I met her,” he intones somberly. He gives a mirthless little chuckle as his eyes settle on the dancing flames across the taproom, “ Her name was Drixty and she was most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on. She was one of the “Trappers” and from same brood group as me. We got to stand there and talk for hours. No one can make a dragon wait but they like to be waited for. Then loud horn sounded and my scales stiffened as Malefitrix entered chamber, scales so dark they seemed to suck the light from room. Her eyes felt like hot knives as she scrutinized us, her newest kobold worshipers. Most of us were awestruck and bowed but one poor fool screamed and tried to run. He didn’t get far before she ate him whole. I was so scared my scales almost fell off. Then as suddenly as she came, the black beast left. I always remember that first time in “Dragon Receiving Chamber”, he trails off for a second before resuming.
“Drixty and I kept seeing each other, she was busy trapping the tunnels while I ended up with assignment guarding mouth of receiving chamber. Things were great for a while, then one sun-cursed day I heard a loud roar coming from dragon’s lair. Next thing I know entire tribe gets brought into receiving room, and all trappers lined up in front. One of the trappers had set a magic trap over entrance to dragon’s treasure horde that was designed only to trigger on non-dragons, but it was not set right. When old Malefitrix pass beneath, it trigger and cover her with rubble, dirt and rocks.”
Blinking against the bright light, Blast leans forward over the low table and stares into his mug, “She not hurt, one scale only chipped, but she so angry rock around her started melting. She made our chief choose ten of our tribe, including himself, five trappers, and 4 miners. When Drixty’s name was called, I felt my insides tie themselves in knots. Then that monster, …she… she…sh” he gags, visibly shaken by the memory of the cruel dragon’s punishment. “For this?” he croaks, brandishing the worn piece of black scale. A single green tear slides down his scaly face to caustically sizzle into the wooden table.
He settles back and finishes, “A week later, when my name came up for night watch, I decided I going to go renegade. I changed name to Blast Scout and start traveling as far away as I could go. I end up in this small town near some mountains. I spent one night there and wake up next morning with town under attack. When I run outside and saw something flying threw the sky, I prayed it wasn’t my old master coming to look for me. Probably be only time I am grateful to see flying skeleton horses pulling bone chariot with angry wizard. That’s when I meet you guys, the rest you know.”

Blast Scout

Orldeza BlastScout