Somewhere, West Virginia, USA.
All was quiet, the Trap Master thought as he did his daily patrol. While they didn't have any immediate threats since the goblins, it still didn't hurt to stay vigilant.
The owlbears to the north haven't been seen in the area surrounding them so far. Which was good, he thought. While they now had some of the humans blackpowder weapons, he wasn't sure how many of the tribe would fall before they could fell the beasts should they decide to expand their territory closer.
While the sentries did report something last night, they couldn't tell who, or what, it was. He just hoped it wasn't serious. While they were in a better position than before, they're protector was currently indisposed.
Since his return from the mountain, Jeb had locked himself in his room, and he had yet to emerge. He, the Chief, and the Den Mother have all tried to speak with him or to at least have him come out for food. But the door remained closed, and they haven't heard anything from him.
They were understandably worried for his health. But they all had duties to see to. With Jeb isolating himself, it was up to the Trap Master to step up and act as the tribe's protector once more.
The tribe had been hesitant to scout far since arriving, even more since the goblin attack, and had only ventured out when accompanied by Jeb or the Trap Master himself. With him unavailable, and now wielding firearms, the Trap Master felt more confident in sending a small group out to scout for new hunting grounds, since the owlbears have claimed a chunk of theirs. As well as to be on the lookout for any possible threats in the area.
In the meantime, he decided to check in on the burrows. Since being given the mining equipment some weeks ago, the kobolds have been steadily excavating the hill behind the cabin. He passed the battery generator that Jeb had gotten them and the mix-match of torches and electrical lights that were scattered near the entrance and the various holes that acted as windows and entryways for the burrows. It was dark for only a moment within the burrows before his eyes adjusted.
The entrance was cramped for anyone that wasn't as short statured as the kobolds, or goblins, he thought bitterly. Since the conflict with the goblins had concluded, the kobolds had thrown their time and energy into booby-trapping the tunnels leading into the burrow itself.
The Trap Master expertly danced around the many camouflaged tripwires and simple pressure plates that would let loose sharpened wooden spikes or weaken a false spot on the ground that led to a pit trap.
The area surrounding the burrows from outside wasn't as trapped. Mainly because the sentries should give them plenty of advance warning should danger arrive, hopefully enough to get the tribe deeper into the burrows where more traps laid.
Since witnessing the brutal traps that Jeb had used during the goblin conflict, some of the tribe wanted to begin using more of them, but he refused. Even Jeb advised against it. Probably because of the risk for collateral damage that the traps had, the Trap Master thought as he recalled Jeb feeling guilty for some of the kobolds getting wounded from his gas trap.
So for now, they resorted to using their old tried and true traps of spikes and pits. Mostly. They rather enjoyed the flamethrowers Jeb had made for them. While it wasn't used aboveground, that didn't stop them from slotting some into cubbyholes tied to tripwires.
After a couple minutes, the Trap Master arrived at the main den within the burrows. It was a wide-opened space that was close to nearing the same size as Jeb's entire cabin.
Several strings of lights and torches were strewn about that illuminated the large space. Along the dirt and stone walls of the den were many alcoves that acted as housing for some of tribe that chose to live here instead of the basement of the cabin. They were attached to the surface with a small personal tunnel that they could used to flee deeper underground if something were to happen above. Only a modicum of light from the surface made its way down here, hence the lights, but it also allowed sufficient ventilation.
Strewn about were lazy salamanders that lounged about in the warm confines of the den, seeking comfort from the increasing chill above. The kobolds were making the place another nexus of activity, same as with the basement of the cabin, various small stalls of crafted trinkets and morsels were being bartered with.
The Trap Master passed a small cobbled-together stall that seemed to be offering small rodents and insects to snack on. While another offered polished pebbles and stones. Yet another offered patchwork fur blankets and clothes made from the offerings that the Trap Master and his skirmishers would acquire during their hunts and foraging.
He spotted only a small portion of supplies from the cabin being bartered. In the basement, it was mainly bits of carpeting and canned goods that would be primarily bartered with, while here it was mostly stuff that the kobolds acquired from their short foraging trips.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
It gladdened him to see his people beginning to return to a sense of normalcy, even if there were slight changes in their arms and attire. With the change in climate, many now wore more fur and some strips of thicker upholstery. Even the salamanders weren't exempt as many were adorned with carpeting and fur as well.
Since acquiring the weapons from Skeeter, the idea of blackpower rifles spread throughout the tribe. While the Trap Master and skirmishers were the only ones that wielded them so far, some of the tribe were experimenting with their own crude firearms.
He could see a small handful of the tribe working on something involving what Jeb had referred to as PVC pipe. While they had yet to do anything more than damage a small number of the bullets they received from Skeeter, and gave the whole tribe a scare when one of them went off, the pipping at least gave them a sturdier blowpipe.
With some pointers from Jeb, his kin when they went to The Gathering, and the Chief during his regular trips to collect local flora, they had made some potent poisons from some of the local herbs. Wolfsbane, mandrake (not related to the plant elementals that inhabited some of the forests and jungles near their former home), nightshade, as well as mushrooms with ominous names such as "destroying angel" and "death cap".
If not for early warnings from Jeb, they may have lost more of their tribe. They still lost a few early on as hunger drove them to consume the poisonous mushrooms. But not near as many as it could have been.
But now they would be used to defend the tribe instead of harming it, he thought as he crossed an alcove some of the tribe, wearing thick and heavy leather masks, gloves, and aprons, used to delicately and cautiously crush and distil them into liquid or paste that would then be put onto spears and knives. They also coated many of the traps that littered the burrows. The kobolds weren't strangers to using toxins and poisons. Many frogs and plants back in their tropical home were quite toxic to even touch and were regularly harvested. Even now he could see a small tunnel leading deeper in that had a few kobolds entering with clippings of the dangerous plants.
Of course when working with such things such as the blackpowder or the toxic plants, casualties and injuries are an inevitability. Fortunately the later than the former. Thanks to the aid from the hillfolk and some medicine from Jeb, they've been fortunate enough that none have died yet from anything. But it wasn't a matter of if, but when, it happened. If they had more numbers, then losing a member of the tribe to an accident wouldn't be such a crushing loss.
He sighed, he understands that Jeb is going through a lot. He just had to hope that he will come out of it alright, and with the knowledge that he is now more than capable of defending the tribe, he can aid them in securing their future. One of the kobolds strength was numbers, at least their tribe was. It was one of the larger kobold tribes, though he heard that there was a tribe in a desert region that numbered far larger than theirs did.
He continued to wander the burrows as he watched his people resume their previous trades. Pots were boiling as food or remedies were made. While he didn't see any here, there were some back in the basement that had taken a liking to "tinkering" as Jeb had called it when he saw them working on some old mechanical things he had. What Jeb called TV's and stereos were being gutted and examined by some of the tribe in an effort to understand the mechanical things that surrounded them and seemed so common to humans of this world.
But they were replaced by more traditional metalworkers here in the burrows as they worked on the small offerings of iron they found during their digging, or scrap that they were able to trade with the hillfolk for or some old bits of metal Jeb didn't need or want. They've even found a few caches of quartz crystals during their tunneling.
The Trap Master smiled as, besides the glaring obvious, his people were back to the way they were before coming here. Trade and bartering with one-another. Routine foraging trips. Now if they could just get Jeb out of his funk then they could begin to address the problem, and very possible solution, to their population.
-----
The Chief wandered not far from the cabin. He wasn't alone though as the Trap Master and Den Mother both insisted that he not wander by himself. A couple of kobolds followed him with blowpipes and simple knives as he wandered around collecting plant samples for study. Several books that Jeb owned mentioned many of the species that he saw and was currently collecting.
He leaned down and collected a few snippings of a plant called Yarrow and examined it for a moment as he tried to recall the properties that the books had said it possessed. If his memory is correct then it should be an decent medicinal herb that the tribe wouldn't mind having some around.
Instructing his followers to do the same, they split off a few feet from him and began to collect handfuls of the yellowish white flowers. With them doing their collecting, he turned his attention to various nuts that were common to the area that would make for fine snacks. Jeb mentioned that during the colder, yes even colder than now, months people would roasts them.
So the Chief thought to try it when they've moved on from this dark malaise that's fallen over Jeb upon his return. Like the Trap Master, he didn't have the luxury of standing by worrying for Jeb. He had duties and responsibilities that needed to be taken care of. Normally he would be leading the tribe in spiritual gatherings meant to honor their draconic master. Though that has been largely abandoned for obvious reasons.
Much of his other duties were what he was currently doing now, though not quite as personally as he was now. He would order foraging parties much like the Trap Master would send out hunting or raiding parties to collect various herbs that would be made into poultices and potions. While he did have magic, it was largely defensive. The humans had a name for it but he couldn't quite recall it. Aberration, adoration, he couldn't remember. It was his specialty, sure he could cast some simple and minor spells, well, he used to. Casting simple fire sparks for light, or binding magic to secure clothes or baskets were trivial for him. Again, WERE.
He has broached the subject with Jeb many a times, but he's always gave the Chief the same answer, that there wasn't any magic in this world, nothing the humans called "real" at least from his understanding. The only magic humans were aware of were miracles performed by their deities, that even they were heavily disputed by some humans, or sleight of hand tricks meant for entertainment.
Given how weak he was casting his shield spell, a spell that should be trivial for him to cast. He was beginning to realize that though humans were more than likely capable of casting magic, the cost, and thus fear, of doing so led to them to shun it in favor of more practical, and less costly, practices. Though Jeb did mention that some people that still followed "the old ways" claimed to practice magic. Tribal medicine men, supposed witches and druids, witchdoctors that practice something he called "voodoo".
Which made more sense for him the more Jeb explained it to him, and his own renewed inspiration that made him return to the books for a time. Much of human magic is patron based! Invoking the spirits or gods of their land or culture to aid them in healing or cursing. He recalled many in their world also practiced much the same kind of magic.
Which also explained the cost of using their own simple magic, he was drafting the power of the spells from his very self rather than some patron that would allow easy casting in return to offerings and tribute. He wondered if their own connection to their draconic master was what allowed him to cast magic so freely back home, and if that was why it was so difficult for him now.
Though when he brought it up with Jeb once again he was still less than convinced. Saying people curse one another all the time and nothing comes of it. That most of the time it was for show to get a few bucks off tourists.
He wasn't sure why humans would trade male deer for magic tricks, but the humans of this world were strange and complicated. Though he was still sure in his theory that humans were capable of casting magic and that it was more common in this world than believed. It just required offerings to a deity to offset the, quite heavy, cost. Maybe once Jeb comes out of his malaise he would be open to experimenting with his theory. Like what kind of magic would he be able to cast if Jeb was his patron?