The Goblin Idol
Lightning peals across a huge mountain looming near the sprawling slums of Northallow. The image is hazy and indistinct. There is no storm, no wind, but again the lightning strikes, wait, perhaps not lightning, perhaps it is the idea of lightning you see, a dream of thunder. Closer, the mountain is suddenly closer. Lightning again and the mountain is closer still, you are being pulled to the mountain. There is something there, something you can’t quite see. Something hidden in a nook, a crook in a cliff-face, something with ruby eyes.
A kobold wakes up in a small bedroom. He had been sleeping on the floor, faint embres flicker out in a nearby censor. The whole room stinks of its acrid incense. He moans and rubs his head, his ears still ringing from the dream of thunder. He remembers the ruby eyes. He chuckles weakly to himself and with a relieved gasp, he says, “Finally,”
A strange kobold is looking for help to recover a valuable artifact from a nearby mountain. Rubies as big as a fist, he says. Is it too good to be true? Or too good to refuse?