Palseks, for her part, hated Diamond Hollow.
For one thing, it was cold. For another, it smelled exactly like what you would expect from a town where people just dumped their sewage into the street. Oh, and of course was the air of gloom that was impossible to ignore.
Last night, Charlie and Prince Gregory had warned them all that the town was corrupt and full of crooks. They could expect shakedowns and outright setups. Like Charlie, she had played her share of DnD adventures. More than he ever did - she was five years older and had been playing since she was 16.
This town reminded her of a few corrupt towns in modules she’d DM’d. In fact, since the AI running the simulation was pulling knowledge of the setting from the internet, it likely created this town as a hybrid of them all. And given how she’d chose to run these towns, she was well aware of the fact that this was where players were put in their place and fucked over.
Why?
Because the PCs were just starting to get out of the beginner levels but not QUITE at a high enough level to kill an entire town of NPCs. The bad guys would do their shakedowns, ask the players to hand over their weapons, then create a big scene over nothing and try to lock them up. At that point… well, that was where the PC breaking began.
Oh? You WON’T give up your weapon? Jail. Oh, you want to fight? Well, that might end up in a TPK or a failed module since you now have half the town after you. Generally, the party ends up being captured and sent to jail anyways.
And, right on time, here came the welcoming committee.
As the caravan pulled into town, thirty town’s guard, mostly wolves and bears, came out along with a rather rotund and wealthy-looking wolf. Villagers hurried out of their way, some even doing the cliche's ‘closing their windows’ thing.
“Invisibility,” Palseks said in the language of her primal ancestors.
Once she was safely hidden, she watched. Technically, what they were about to do was called ‘metagaming’ and was frowned upon, but most players in DnD didn’t have to risk their lives or souls.
They’d known pretty much what was about to happen. Adventurers enter backwards town, Sheriff or other authority figure abuses them, traps them. They would have to find a way to escape. Adventurers like this were to show players that they had to think carefully and not immediately start fights.
Which is why she smacked her forehead with a claw when Charlie decimated the five town guards.
That moron! She’d told Charlie this was exactly the reaction the Mayor would need to finger them as dangerous outsiders. Now they were definitely screwed. Starting a fight in Diamond Hollow was a bad idea because the bad guys had no opposition. They ran the place and people feared them.
The mayor invited them to his house, literally twirling his whiskers like a moustache. Palseks rolled her eyes. Could it be any more obvious that he was a villain? She followed the party as Rodrigo, the Mayor, led them back to his ranch-style mansion up on the hill.
Sitting outside the window, she watched them eat dinner, her own tummy growling. She watched the party get turned into lizardmen and was… kinda turned on, actually. All three of the lizardmen were totally hot. If only they were dragons, she might feel something for them. But alas.
It was a common misconception that kobolds were lizards.
In fact, kobolds were NOT lizards. They really were more closely related to dragons. Dragons had created them as a servitor race and, obviously, to the vain reptilian overlords, only those with draconic blood flowing through their veins were worthy of serving them. In fact, every once in a while there was a ‘throwback’ kobold with genetic mutations who was half-dragon. They were basically worshiped as the kobold equivalent of Christ-figures.
Kobolds mined. Not for minerals or gems or gold (although…of course they’d find those things) but because they were magically engineered to carve out mountains for their draconic overlords. Where other races mined to satisfy their own greed, kobolds mined because they had irresistible urge to do so written into them at the generic level.
Which also got to why kobolds were usually known among the other races as thieves. As with their mining, kobolds didn’t steal because they coveted what others had. They snuck through the shadows because every dragon wanted a larger horde, but didn’t want to take the risks involved in acquiring valuables.
That’s where kobolds came in – a kobold in its own den wouldn’t dream of stealing a scrap of stale bread, but once outside, they couldn’t help but imagine how nice that noble’s gold would look with their master sleeping on top of it.
Which led to another important point. Kobolds imprinted on a dragon, and once they did, they served it loyally until they died. Dragons didn’t want servants running around who would get all starry-eyed the moment a rival walked into their lairs, looking for a fight.
That was also why kobolds ended up doing rather stupid things.
As long as something looked ‘draconic’ enough (and didn’t outright kill them), they’d imprint on them. So the clan of kobolds that worshiped Skyrmmythrax, the Soulflayer Demon of the 33rd layer of the Abyss, didn’t do so because they were necessarily evil at the time (though they definitely were now). They worshiped him because he looked very much like a dragon. Same with Gorerazor, Blight of the North, another Demon Lord who’d made it onto the Material Plane and was ravaging the Elves, trying to chop down The Millennium Tree, Yggdrasil.
And because they were always running around worshiping dangerous things, kobolds had perfected ‘groveling’. It wasn’t just a technique; it was the whole kobold lifestyle. Effective ‘groveling’ required higher Charisma than normal. After a few generations of low charisma kobolds ending up as popsicles or piles of ash, plus a little bit of selective breeding by their original creators, enhanced charisma was now a racial trait.
Now, combine that Charisma with a class that could put it to use: The Bard.
Paul, now Palseks, had chosen the Bard for just that reason. Like Rogues, they had tons of skills. More importantly, they had Bardic Knowledge and Bardic Inspiration.
Bardic Knowledge meant that they could roll straight dice to determine if they knew about… well, anything. Ancient language stymieing the party? Oops, the Bard just so happened to have heard all about it in college. Some obscure inter-dimensional being has appeared? Well, of course the Bard has heard of them!
Then, Bardic Inspiration meant they could pump those skill rolls up for anyone more qualified than themselves, turning what might be an average skill into a phenomenal one. Or inspire their party to do more damage. It was very versatile.
And, on top of all that, they had magic.
It was mostly support magic, but utility spells were often the best sorts of spells. Based on all mathematical calculations, making the rest of the party stronger was more effective than throwing a fireball or two. Plus, given the fact that friendly fire was very much a thing in this world, a wizard could easily do more harm than good with most of their spells.
Combining a servant race with a Bard was a good idea. Most people ignored kobolds. And given what had happened to the rest of the members of the party, being ignored was the best thing she could hope for. Still, the limitations of her body were becoming more apparently, particularly the fact that she NEEDED to serve someone.
That need was always present. Every morning when she woke up, the first thought that went through her mind was what the rest of the party wanted to eat for breakfast. Every time she thought about taking a rest, she would grow anxious at the thought of not being useful enough.
And then there was the look on Gregory’s face – it was a look of pure, cold indifference to her. A look designed to tell her that he had no use for her. It was all she could do to stop herself from falling to her knees and begging him for some task to do, no matter how menial. So far she’d managed to avoid such a humiliating display of self-flagellation, but it was now apparent to her that ‘groveling’ was an innate need for a kobold.
Like drinking, eating, or sleeping, she NEEDED to serve and she NEEDED to grovel. Perhaps not every day, and perhaps not to that extreme, but it was a basic need for her body.
Fortunately, right now she was serving her party. And acting like a doting servant around the others made her feel good. It made her happy to be of service.
But then there were dragons… Palseks had gotten a taste of that kobold imprinting shortly after Gregory had bought her. One of the patrons in Fergus’ inn had been a young dragonborn. Although Palseks had only caught a glimpse of him, that dragon-like visage was enough to cause her mind to overflow with a single thought: master.
That dragonborn’s head was an exact copy of full blown dragons, just smaller and on a more humanoid body. Still, in the brief instant that she looked at it, the only thing that had mattered to her was that head. All of her dreams about a life with Rasker had just vanished. Sure, it would be great for both of them to be serving that same dragonborn, but the dragonborn would come first.
She didn’t even know his name or…
Palseks had to push those thoughts out of her head. Even sitting here, in a life or death situation, her body was begging to grow aroused at the thought of being used by a person that she knew quite literally nothing about – except that he kind of looked like a dragon.
She hadn’t told the party about that encounter, and she didn’t intend to. So far she’d been able to control herself, and she didn’t want to risk them deciding to turn her over to Veles for a surprise trimming. And while she still planned on having Veles turn her into a dragonborn – she only wanted that to happen once he had mastered Glitz’ magic.
For all the issues that her current body had, it was at least a body that she had grown comfortable in. If the party convinced Veles to use her as another test subject, who knew what kind of monstrosity he might accidentally turn her into?
As Palseks ruminated on her own state of existence, a sudden flash caught her eye. It was the fat wolf waddling past her hiding place with the three lizardmen. Or, more specifically, the magical pendant around his neck. For a moment, her heart rose into her throat. It was SHINY! Her masters would love her if she-
Palseks paused, realizing she’d almost left her hiding place.
That was idiotic of her. She shook her head, clearing the zany kobold thoughts and obsessions. Her party would like her more if she freed them. But how? She didn’t know how long the potions would last. Were they permanent? Palseks needed more information.
Creeping around, she saw her friends get herded into the jail.
Rodrigo had the key-or at least one of the keys-and locked the doors behind him when he left. She waited nearby as night fell and a chill crept over the town. It was pretty at night, when all the blemishes were covered in a veil of darkness. Little lights flickered in the windows. It would almost be picturesque. Except, of course, for the haphazard buildings and the screams coming from the lumbermill, which was still going, even at night.
She woke up in the morning when a bear lumbered past her hiding spot, grumbling to himself and scratching his massive ass with a clawed paw. He filled a big pot with grain, meat scraps and leftover vegetables. Then, uncorking a few bottles of potions, her poured that in the quickly-stewing gruel as well. Then he ladled the gruel into bowls and distributed them throughout the stalls.
Potions!
Palseks heart skipped happily. So it wasn’t a permanent transformation after all! Although…
Palseks thought for a moment. It was temporary now, but how many doses until the transformation was permanent? Everyone knew overuse of those potions made things more and more permanent, reality itself reshaping around the victim.
She didn’t know what the concentration level of the potion was, but if it lasted a few hours… Palseks did some calculations. They had maybe a month or so before the potion became permanent. Hadn’t the mayor said something about letting them join the wolves in a month?
Fucking liar.
Palseks started coming up with a plan. Someone was brewing these potions and storing them somewhere. She could sabotage them. And when the guard sat down to brew the morning gruel, his tight shirt would ride up his back, exposing his ass crack and the keyring he kept nestled inside.
Palseks shuddered. She could steal them and release everyone.
So, formulating her plans, she followed the guard back to the ranch where the Mayor lived and watched as he opened a cellar and descended down the stairs.