Durgar Ironfoot, Pavel the Great, Father Nicholas and Abbador the Mutator all made it back alive from the Dungeons of Dundagel this morning. Durgar is wearing some shiny new dwarf-mail retrieved from the dungeons. And he has trouble speaking clearly because he took a sip from a potion bottle that turned out to be a flask of acid. Hopefully his tongue will heal by his next adventure. Also, thanks to a charm person spell one of the two magic-users in the party has a new pet kobold named Torgo. I can't remember which MU threw that spell though.
Rather than the stock dogfaced reptile guys, kobolds in the my current setting harken back a bit to the OD&D description of them, which suggests a relationship with dwarves. Wessex kobolds are the backwards degenerate hill billy cousins of civilized dwarves. They look like sickly dwarves with bad skin and filthy beards and their kobold language is actually dwarvish dumbed down. If a dwarf limits his grammar to simple constructions and they both speak slowly, a dwarf and a kobold can communicate in their native tongues. Not that they would necessarily have much to say to each other.
Torgo reveals that the local tribe of kobolds live on level 2 of Dundagel. They would prefer to live on level 1, but two things prevent them from doing so: the whole tribe is enslaved by the dark lord Trevor, who force marched them to level 2 when he took over the upper levels of the dungeon, and those damn goblins now occupy all the good spots on level 1. Torgo also lets slip that to get Durgar's new magic armor they had to burn down the ghost that haunted it.
One other thing: When not on duty Torgo wears a little pink evening gown with frills and lace. You're not sure if kobold women have beards or if Torgo is a transvestite. Maybe this secret will be revealed the next time someone fails a carousing roll.
Some Reflections on Psionics
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