[Epic Kobold]

It is known to everyone who studies such things that among the M'Guk tribe of Reptile-Men in the eastern region of the Great Desert that if a child is born defective, they are tossed out into the desert wasteland to fend for themselves. Most anything can count as a deformity worthy of such a ritual, depending largely on the social standing of the mother. A bad scale pattern, misaligned ridges along the back, even making the “wrong” noises upon hatching. Usually the young thing is picked off by jackals within the hour. Occasionally they are not.

This particular bit of information was running through Walton's mind that day thirty years ago when he was going on a long walk in the desert's edge and he stumbled across the creature. Two feet long and trying to bury its self in the sand when he approached. For most Reptile-Men, this tactic works well with their golden brown scales, but not this one. He suffered from incomplete albinism. His scales glared bright white with two black eyes in sharp contrast. It hissed deeply as Walton approached.

Reptile-Men have been known to show cunning and flashes of deep insight from time to time. They have a written language, albeit a primitive one, and have even (rarely) been seen tending plants in crude gardens to lure in jackrabbits and other wildlife to eat. The theory has long been that if properly educated, the Reptile-Men could become a civilized people. The theory has always been controversial. For one, the young that don't die swiftly in ritual exile are kept far away from the prying eyes of other humanoids, so teaching them was out. Secondly, any attempts to educate the adults usually ended in the educators getting eaten.

What a wonderful and rare opportunity, Walton thought as he brought the struggling package to his home, wrapped tightly in his cloak. By the end of the week he had cotton it...or rather “him” as Walton quickly discovered responded well to food as a reward. He would sit and listen if he knew a fresh slice of raw bacon was coming. Where once there was doubt and a murky primitive mind, there was now understanding. Walton named him Grok.

Walton wrote about his progress over the years. As Grok grew, his thirst for knowledge did the same. He showed particular strengths in Strategic thinking and herbal healing arts. Walton kept careful notes on Grok's progress. It was some twenty years after Grok was discovered crawling in the desert that Walton published his paper “On the intellect and progress of Reptile-Men”. It was thought to be a hoax...a joke. It became so popular as a farce that Walton was asked to read it before a large audience. On the appointed day, Walton claimed to be feeling under the weather part way through the reading, but would have his student, Grok finish for him. The audience snickered as the large, heavily robed form pulled its self on stage and stood behind the podium. They stopped laughing when Grok pulled back his hood and read the paper expertly.

Grok started selling his herbal remedies in the marketplace after that. He'd enlist the aid of a merchant as his own presence in the crowd tended to scare away costumers. Some six months later a knight of the Order of the Old Stone named Danton d'Alleine payed Walton a visit, offering Grok a position as a squire. The Reptile was eager to explore the world some and leaped at the chance. They traveled the land some, righted some wrongs, and had more than a few grand adventures. In the end, Grok felt his true place was back home, with Walton. The Order was sorry to see him go, and unofficially named him an honorary knight, but in the end, Grok went back to Simonton and his Walter. So it went for nearly ten years, Sir Danton would ask Grok along on a few adventures, “Sir” Grok would go along, heal the sick and scare away villains for months at a time but in the end go home. A few weeks later, Danton would return with a new adventure and the pair would off again.

The last time Grok returned home, however, he received an unpleasant shock. Walton had taken quite ill. The Reptile put all his healer skills to the test tending to Walton, but the old man's health remains consistently low. Grok's best guess is that it's stress from the civil war, with which Walton doesn't want to be “mixed up”.

The pair know that the king is a fool, and that the rebels should win this thing if justice is to be done. The old man only speaks on the topic briefly with disgust and annoyance. Grok would do anything to end this war and remove this problem from his guardian's life. “Maybe...” thinks Grok “Maybe if I go calling on the Order of the Old Stone....”