Surprisingly, Mikmek sticks with the Adventurers as they clean out the mite infestation. When the four companions reach the surface the note his continued presence and become suspicious – surely the cowardly being has some motive for sticking around. Sure enough, when asked, Mikmek is eager to spit his story out.
‘You help the Sootscales, yes?’
The local Kobold clan is in the middle of a war with the mites. The center piece of the war is a Kobold religious artifact the mites stole. The Adventurers recovered the statue of Old Sharptooth – a disgusting mock statue of a kobold painted in gaudy colors. Mikmek implores the group to bring the statue to their shaman, the great Tartuk and prevent Old Sharptooth from cursing them all.
Belril agrees to bring to statue back to the kobolds and sends Mikmak ahead to warn them of the groups coming. The group gives Mikmak a days head start then follow south to an area marked on a map lifted from the Mite’s lair denoting the kobold den. They come to an abandoned silver mine the Sootscale Kobolds have been lairing in.
At the entrance the group meet a lone guard, barely awake, and completely surprised by the coming humans. He thinks about lowering his spear in protest, but thinks better of it.
‘Wait! Don’t kill me! You help please. Me take you to Cheif!’
A quick smile passed through the group, and they agreed. Viceak noticed a mite in a cage next to the entrance to the kobold lair. Belril insisted on freeing the beaten and abused monster, and received a scratch in the face from the fleeing fiend in thanks.
The shaking kobold sentry escorted the group into the abandoned mine and to the kobold chieftain – Chief Sootscale. The Chief treats the group roughly at first, attempting to hold face in front of the clan, then he learns that Belril holds their lost relic and requests its return. Belril agrees, but only upon the return of a stolen ring and an end to the kobold attacks in the area. Belril hands over the statue, holds on to it with a tight grip, and stares at it. He stares at Belril and back at the statue. As if inspired the chief lifts the statue above his head and shouts then smashes it on the ground – destroying the relic to their god.
‘No longer will Sootscale be cursed by Old Sharptooth.’ Shouting his followers into a frenzy the chief requests one more favor of the adventurers: ‘Help me kill that usurper Tartuk!’ Taken aback, Belril refuses to assassinate the shaman. But the dye had been cast and the clan, in a furor, rushes to the temple. Several shouts, thunderclaps, and disturbing moments later the horde of kobolds return from the temple dragging the limp body of the discolored kobold shaman named Tartuk.
Freed from the usurper’s religious domination Chief Sootscale ingratiates himself with his new neighbors in a hope of future peace.