A Nightmare Beneath the Hills
by Reverend Dungeon MasterYou step into the yawning cavern, and the first thing you notice is the smell. Wet fur, rotting meat, and the faint, acrid tang of something burning. Your torch sputters, its light swallowed by the oppressive darkness. This isn’t just a kobold den; it’s a charnel house. The walls sweat with dampness, the sound of dripping water a steady percussion against the sick silence. You clutch your weapon tighter, fingers slick with sweat, heart thundering in your chest.
“Why kobolds?” you mutter to no one in particular.
Then you hear it, a distant, rasping chuckle. The sound drags itself out of the shadows like an uninvited guest.
The tunnel tightens as you move forward, the ceiling so low you’re forced to crouch. Scattered bones crunch beneath your boots. You tell yourself they’re just animal bones. You know better.
Your torchlight catches the glint of crude traps, pits lined with rusted spikes, jagged wires strung across the path at ankle height. Kobolds may be small, but they’re clever. They don’t fight fair.
Ahead, the passage opens into a larger chamber, and that’s when you see them: a cluster of kobolds hunched around a firepit. Their eyes reflect the firelight, gleaming like malevolent stars. One of them snarls, its snout twitching as it catches your scent. Their leader, taller than the rest, adorned with scraps of stolen armor, raises a clawed hand. Silence falls.
The leader’s voice rasps like dry leaves on stone. “Meat has come to us.”
The kobolds scatter, melting into the shadows. You hear the scuffle of claws on stone, the scrape of blades being unsheathed. Your pulse quickens as the reality sinks in: you’re not the hunter. You’re dinner.
The darkness becomes alive with movement. A pebble skitters near your foot, and before you can react, a javelin sails out of the blackness, narrowly missing your head. Another laugh echoes, high-pitched and mocking.
You swing your torch wildly, trying to pierce the gloom. The flickering light catches a glimpse of something to your right, yellowed teeth, a pair of gleaming eyes. Then it’s gone.
A trap springs behind you, the snap of a hidden snare. You whirl around, and that’s when they attack.
The first kobold leaps from the shadows, its rusty dagger flashing toward your gut. You block it just in time, but another comes from the side, its claws raking your arm. They’re fast, damnably fast, and their numbers make them bold.
The leader watches from the edge of the firelight, chanting something in a guttural, sibilant tongue. The air around it ripples, and you feel a creeping chill. Dark magic. You’ve heard stories of kobold shamans, but you hoped they were just that–stories.
Then the chanting stops, and the fire in the pit roars higher, casting grotesque shadows that dance on the walls like maddened spirits. You realize the fire isn’t natural. It’s hungry, alive, its flames licking toward you as if eager to taste your flesh.
Panic surges through you. The kobolds close in, their laughter a cruel cacophony. Their eyes gleam with the sadistic joy of creatures who know they’ve already won.
But you’re not going down without a fight.
BECMI Stats
Kobolds
Armor Class (AC): 7
Hit Dice (HD): 1d4 hp (2 hp average)
Move: 90’ (30’)
Attacks: 1 weapon (dagger, javelin, or sling)
Damage: 1d4
THAC0: 19
No. Appearing: 3d6 (6-18 in lair)
Save As: Fighter 1
Morale: 6 (8 if leader present)
Treasure Type: J (crude coins, stolen trinkets)
Alignment: Chaotic
Kobold Leader (Shaman)
Armor Class (AC): 6
Hit Dice (HD): 2d6+1 hp (8 hp average)
Move: 90’ (30’)
Attacks: 1 weapon or spell
Damage: 1d6 (staff) or spell effect
THAC0: 18
Spells: 1st Level (Cause Fear, Light/Darkness)
Morale: 8
Treasure Type: E (small gems, enchanted trinkets)
Alignment: Chaotic
Trap Examples:
Snare Trap: Save vs. Wands or become restrained for 1d4 rounds.
Spike Pit: 1d6 damage, 50% chance of infection if untreated.
Treasure
The kobold hoard includes 15 gp, 40 sp, a chipped garnet worth 25 gp, and a wand of sparks (1d4 lightning damage, 1 charge).
