Knight who thinks the quests they're being sent on feel a little bit more like errands than errantry.
Geraint Goch, loosely meaning Geraint The Red, was well-named. He was a short kobold, short by even their standards. His scales were a coppery red except for patches where pure red ones made themselves known. He was dressed in a suit of plate armour specially sized for him, not stolen or hammered from larger ones, not this time!
He was training to become a full-fledged knight. This marked him as already different from most of his kind who opted for sneakier trades or who didn't see the lure in adventure at all.
He was also a little red, as in seeing it, because of late his allocated requests had been...
Well, put it like this. He'd seen five sewers. 'We've got a bit of a rat problem, you see and they're rather big and dangerous,' it would invariably go.
Oh yes. They were big rats. He was sure that a dwarf would have seen them and licked their lips and brought out the ketchup. He'd sold the rats afterward to a dwarf delicatessan nearby and they'd actually paid him double what the councillors had! They'd been good rats, they'd said. Rats of quality were rare.
Fifth time, he had accepted it, this time trapped the rats and sold them again. Double payment again.
He was headed into the alderman's office again. He was sure his last excursion he had not quite washed offthe sewers despite it being at least three months ago. Everyone seemed to avoid him.
This time, it had to be different. It had to be! Just not a bloody sewer, not rats, just anything but!
He left with an even longer drawn out sigh. It wasn't rats. It wasn't a sewer.
It was a basement of huge spiders.