A Kobold Named Duck (tentative)

A Kobold Named Duck

Doan sat at the seat of his wagon enjoying the early summer breeze in his hair, his two oxen pulling his cart back home. He had done well on his trading venture to Valmore and had unloaded all of his valuable cargo of cheese, wax, honey, and countless barrels of salted pork and goat. His wagon filled with quality hay and feed for his animals and a hefty pouch of coin to boot. The songbirds sang and the sound of leaves blowing in the breeze eased his way through the forest passage back to his land. He looked forward to a few days off to rest and perhaps a day or two at the inn to celebrate with some ale and song, such a surplus begged a well needed respite from his usually regimented and hardworking life.

He hummed an old war hymn, even after all these years and no company he couldn't sing the words aloud himself...they were sung in his head with a far prettier but long departed voice.

The songs of the birds lessened as he passed familiar ground...putting him on edge, replaced by the sound of crows cawing loudly. He halted his wagon and sat quietly listening. If he could have he would have left the path but through the forest there was only one way forward. He drew his sword from its old leather wrap and tied off his oxen to the nearest tree. Taking a deep breath he took to the woods slightly off the path moving forward slowly.

He in short time came upon the remains of a small caravan, two overturned carts and surprisingly two kobolds laying flat on the path, clearly dead. Eyeing the scene he saw several more dead, small carts overturned and many of the diminutive lizards laid strewn around. Arrows and sword wounds on them. Their kind didn't usually travel through these lands, and rarely on the road. The crows picked at them...this had happened some time ago, but still recently. Doan knew the smell of death well from his time in war, this had happened within a day.

He took some time to survey the scene, bandits, tribal conflict his main worries. After quietly observing the crows pick at them for a time he raised his sword and stepped into the road. This he assumed had happened no more than a day ago but the attackers had moved on.

Doan started to check for survivors, turning over each...most had seemed to have died trying to run. Arrows in the back or slashes followed by defensive wounds in the hands...bandits probably. Kobolds were at best seen as lower class citizens and at worst vermin so it could have been anyone. Local lords didn't often go out of their way to protect the unfortunate lizard people.

He turned over a small body, a quarter his size a look of terror still etched on his face...wearing simple rags, another next to him was clad in a burlap peasants dress...this was a family, A massacre. He noted the carts had hay but not a single beast of burden was among them. Every adornment and all of value stripped from the bodies.

Even as small as they were he spotted children among the dead, arrow struck and slashed. He checked every single one for signs of life cursing each time he found none...these poor creatures had nothing, likely before they were killed and it saddened him to see such senseless deaths.

He reached the head of the doomed caravan seeing a red scaled kobold with multiple wounds on him and a fierce look still etched on his pale face...this one had fought to the end. Doan stood over him and lowered his sword, “Fought to the last ya did...good on ya mate.”

As he spoke he noticed movement off the path and rushed to see what it was. A blue kobold, definitely a female holding her midsection...several arrows piercing her belly and one sticking out of her back. She glared at him with a look of hate and pain, blood soaked her simple brown tunic as she took short pained breaths.

He stuck his sword into the ground, keeping eye contact with the stricken kobold.

“I mean you no harm, let me see what I can do to help you...”

She couldn't move, pale and in obvious pain she clutched her midsection. She laid her head to the side seemingly in defeat.

Doan took his water skin from his side and offered it to her, surveying the poor kobolds wounds...her eyes were already milky, scaly skin pale. She had suffered a long time, and nothing he could do would save her.

“Here, drink...” he offered the skin to her but she seemed to lack the strength to even turn her head. His brow furrowed taking her small snout in his hand and turning it to the opening he poured some cool water toward it...she drank slowly coughing with each tiny sip.

He noted she was soaked in sweat, and dabbed her forehead with his tunic.

“It will be ok. Don't you worry none...you'll see yer family soon.” Said Doan as he lowered himself to sit next to and prop her up to drink.

The wounded kobled tensed for a moment than relaxed, she was cold but not shivering, the end close for her. She managed to raise a claw to the water skin and push it away.

She coughed and drew a ragged breath. “Good human...nice human...*cough* You save...not hurt.” She coughed and winced at the pain in her midsection. “Not let die...help...please.”

Doan sighed sadly, he had been through this before.
“I can't help you...but I will stay with you until the end. I'm sorry I cant do more.”

The stricken kobold shook her head slightly, and tried to raise her hands from her wounds several times...she moved her tunic to the side, and bundled within the folds of it where he thought she was trying to stem the blood from her wounds was an egg.

“You help...please. Not let die...*cough* you take care...please.” She managed to lift the egg stained in her own blood. Still warm from her waning body heat, she tried to add more but could not.

Doan stared at the egg, and back at the doomed caravan. Had the poor thing sat here among the dead of her whole tribe or family, or whatever on the off chance that another kobold would happen by and save her unborn child?

He took the egg gingerly from her lap. No way could he let her suffering have been for nothing. “Ok. I'll make sure its safe...ok?”

The pale blue kobolds look of strained agony seemed to ebb away. Her little claws going to her sides. “Must keep warm...must keep safe...yes?”

Doan nodded and tucked the ostrich sized egg in his tunic carefully. “Yeah, I suppose I will.”

The kobold nodded and laid her snout to her chest, with a sigh of relief looking up at the massive human with her egg. A look of peace crossing her pained features.
“Thank you.”

He eyed the egg and looked over the doomed caravan, cursing those who would do such evil. When he looked back to the kobold she still had that look of absolute relief on her face...but the light of her life had gone.

Doan nodded and closed her still open eyes, carrying her body in his arms as well as the egg tucked securely against his chest back to his cart. He did not question why fate that day had chosen him, only his duty as a good man to do what was right. He took mother and egg back to his home, where he promised they would find peace.

He reached his land in the early evening, his farm being one of the furthest from the center of the village of Greenvale. His home was a collection of fields and small single family farms bordered by the forest he traveled through. A good sized natural creek flowed from a lake further into the woods through his land and down towards the slight valley below where the bulk of the farms lay clustered together. From his vantage point he could see the village proper built further up the other side of the valley. He noted the peak of the local church and near it the top floor of the Briarwood inn, but all the other buildings were indistinct from each other. The manor house of the local lord was located slightly outside the village surrounded by a simple stone wall, at one point it had been a fortified keep but now aesthetics trumped defense.

On his land four small farms and his own larger one spread out before him, left to him when his father had died decades ago. It had an apple orchard, and a spattering of peach trees the large fields were mostly wheat, potatoes, and various beans. Each house had a sizable mixed vegetable garden that was untaxed meant to sustain the farmers.

The families that worked his land paid him rent usually in the form of a percentage of their crops or animal produce as well as a large tax to the local lord, even so they lived well. Lord Guyve was fair to live under. Sometimes known as Guy the Bard...or Guy the drunk. He spent less time at court then he did at the Briarwood. shitfaced and trying to father as many bastard children as possible before his lifestyle smote his liver.

He smiled as he came to his own small bit of peace in the world, his home was simple for his station as a minor freeman, or peasant knight. A square built wooden home with white plaster over wood slat, he had actual glass in his front window with decorative shutters covering all the smaller ones. The courtyard had a large pond fed from the creek where ducks and a pair of swans swam and dove for snails. A large fenced in paddock held goats and sheep grazing quietly. Around back his side project of a pig pen and mud pit, where several semi domesticated hogs fattened up on acorns and lazed around.

As he crested the hill a gaggle of children spotted him and came running, two of the older ones stopped their work in the fields to catch up with them to meet him.

“Doan! Mr Doan's back! Did you bring us presents? Did the people in the big city all got  the pox like momma says?” as well as a dozen other yelled questions from the pile of children now climbing his wagon.

“Woah woah now, easy...yer gonna spook the oxen now. Get down an wait n'stop actin like ruffians an I'll see what I got.” He said keeping his hand on the egg in his shirt protectively.

They all backed off and stood quietly, mostly because they knew the leather skinned wild haired landlord had a soft spot for them and almost always got them something good when he went on a trip to town.

“Did'ja do like I asked'n take care of the animals while I was gone? Was good and let yer brother n'sister tend the fields?” He asked turning and making sure the sheet still covered the dead kobold in his wagon while bringing up a small burlap sack from the buckboard.

“Yeah mister Doan, we were good...sept that we did throw rocks at Kevin cuz he bashed me inna head...sorry.” Said a little girl about 6. She had a black eye and was bumped in the shoulder by her slightly older brother who knew better and to keep his mouth shut. “Kevin is a cunt! The rock shouldn't count!” he blurted. Mostly knew when to keep his mouth shut Doan mentally amended.

“Well he kinda is, but don't let yer ma hear that kinda talk or she'll hide you then me. And whats th' golden rule?”

“Don't get Mr Doan in trouble!” They all sang in chorus.

“That's right, here ya go. Now remember these are fer sharing! If I find ya fightin over em than I'll give em to the neighbors.” Said Doan as he opened the sack and took out a wooden horse a half dozen tops with strings some glass marbles as well as a few dice and gaming pieces. He spent most of his riding time carving to pass the time.

The gaggle cheered and began examining their loot after a few scattered thank yous.
“Now off wi' ya I gotta talk to yer brother n' sister!” he mock shooed them off snapping the little leather whip he used to spur the oxen after them, eliciting laughs and shrieks.

He ushered the teens that had been watching his farm in his stead forward and spoke when he was sure the littler ones were out of range. “How'd things go while I was gone? No troubles?”

“Nothing we couldn't handle sir. Crops are coming in good this year.” Said John the elder sibling, Sasha his sister stood by quietly always the shy one.

“There's been some trouble on the road, I need ya to tell yer folks an head off in'ta town n' tell sheriff Griff there's a caravan of dead kobolds on th' road no more then a league outta the shire.” He stepped down from the wagon stretching. And taking the egg from his shirt to clean and shift it. Both teens stared at the blue egg with red spots then with wide eyes at the covered body sitting atop the hay.

“You think they are gonna come after us too mister Doan?” Said John.
Doan shook his head, “Nah, was a buncha cowards hitting an easy target. Don't you worry none. Here, yer ma's cloth sold well as all of them chickens.” He placed a small bag of coin in the boy's hand.

Sasha peeked around her brother and spoke up “What are you gonna do with that egg? I mean...do you know anything about kobolds? How are you gonna raise it?”

He shifted the egg carefully and eyed it. “I don't know much about em, but I suppose I'm probably gonna find out. I raised all sorts of animals, besides I got some ideas I think.”

The sandy haired teen seemed about to say something more but clammed up. “Ok. Uh, well see you soon Mr Doan.” She tugged at her brother who was still transfixed by the covered body in the wagon.

After he had sent them on their way he went into the house and gathered up a few things, first off blocking off all the windows and getting an oil lamp. He then started a fire in the hearth with flint and tinder. He had only a few candles and they were only for special occasions. The wax from his apiary was far to valuable to use himself for the most part. He lit he lamp filled with tallow, and once he was sure his home was as dark as it could be he lifted the egg and placed the lamp behind it.

Sure enough he could see the outline of a tiny lizard inside, tail tucked under its body held between its little claws. It was alive for sure, but how far along? He brought the light up closer and the body inside twitched, turning away from the light and grasping its tail a little more. With a short gasp he backed the light off...he had not quite let it set in before, this was a life. He was going to raise a child. His heart lept in his chest involuntarily. He was so unprepared for this it was silly. Still, he had been the first time as well...

He couldn't let those thoughts bother him now. He was sure he had a decent enough plan . He headed outside and into the small hovel next to his house, inside roosted dozens of chickens and ducks. He eyed the bunch...the chickens wouldn't do, the egg was nearly half as big as they were. The local mallards were to small in his opinion as well, besides they were not the best brooders. His Rouan ducks however seemed the perfect choice, they weren't the prettiest birds but were three times bigger then the wild mallards, they looked like a mix between them and a turkey. They layed fewer eggs then many breeds but were better brooders and parents in general. Their eggs were quite good but mostly they were a roasting bird.

Doan worked his way among the nests, ah there she was, a particularly big old lady near the end of her laying life, she sat on her brood dutifully and many of his best birds had come from her. “Up up ya cranky ol'lady go an have a break. Git some water an a snale er' two.” He said as he shooed her off her nest...she was not pleased about it and took a snap at his fingers on her way out. Still she waddled out to the pond as she usually did two or three times a day briefly.

Her nest had only 5 eggs in it, he took the giant blue egg out of his shirt and eyed the nest...he did a little work to make it fit in a way that wouldn't have her sitting a a half foot out of her nest and eyed it...hmmm. “Ok, if this don't work...errr...i'll just have'ta think of somethin else.”