Tales of Darkmoon Vale
n the foothills between Droskers Crag and Darkmoon Wood, Merlokrep, first of his name, almighty Dragon King of the Truescale Kobolds, commands a relatively large tribe of Kobolds. Housed in the tunnels beneath Drosker’s Crucible, the Truescale Tribe until recently contented itself with living deep within the earth, far away from the prying eyes and sharp swords of humans. However that all changed quite suddenly after the prophecy of the tribe’s elderly shaman, the ever absentminded Jekkajak, called by many “He Who Forgets More Than You or He Knows.” There had been growing trepidation over the slew of hardships faced by the tribe after Merlokrep ascended the throne. At a tribal dinner of stewed goatherd one evening, Jekkajak suddenly lurched to his feet and babbled forth a dread prophecy long tucked in some cobwebbed corner of his crusty mind:
“When the Doomed King sits the Throne,our great tribe merk-merks its last! To save our people, wash our troubles from the crown with the blood of pink-skin-spawn!”
As the last word left his mouth accompanied by a dribble of stew, Jekkajak slumped face-first into his bowl and Merlokrep’s path became instantly clear. The only way to save his tribe from annihilation lay in the blood of the pink skins’ squishy children. This event set in motion the events of Crown of the Kobold King.