Summoning Kobolds At Midnight: A Tale of Suburbia & Sorcery.

Dwarven Outpost.

"Cursed snow." Forgrim cursed as he finished shoveling cold muddy slush out of the hole for the posts of their bunkhouse.

If it weren't for the snow they'd been done building already, he thought as he cracked his back. Half of their time and effort went to keeping the snow and ice clear from the building site. The other half was spent between rest and foraging for food. Which meant construction had devolved into a cold miserable slog.

They had been tempted to deconstruct their bags and satchels to form a temporary cover, but they didn't have enough material to cover enough of the site. That and keeping their few possessions dry was more appealing. For the time being.

They had also considered taking Odeas' tarp covering as well. But even with that it wouldn't be enough. Forgrim actually kinda started to feel bad for the gnome after his own encounter with The Haunter. Kinda. He and the others have joked more than once since then that the quiet was so much better than the gnome's constant whinging.

He and a couple others heaved sighs of relief as they hauled the large wooden post into the hole in the ground and held it steady and straight, where several others quickly filled the hole in with the nice loam soil around them. It would make for a better foundation than plain soil. Not as good as stone or granite, but they had to make do with what they got. What they got was a good combination of sand, silt, clay, and tree litter. It would make for a decent plot to grow food as well. Their foraging had revealed berry bushes that they could grow closer for convenience. But they also discovered something worth far more than food as well.

Tóbak!

It was this reason alone they did their best to build a warm and dry shelter faster than they usually would. Their constitution would see them through most of the winter with little issues so they could survive in their makeshift tents and shelters around the clearing. But the tóbak needed shelter from the cold if it was going to produce when spring came. If spring came, he had to remind himself. Still, the handful of sprouts holding on under some pines wouldn't last long if it got colder. They needed shelter if the dwarves were going to get the calming and richly scented snuff anytime soon.

Forgrim and the others paused when they heard the creaking of metal against metal. They all turned as they saw what appeared to be a pump trolley creaking down the tracks. Upon it were two dwarves that huffed and groaned as they pushed their side of the lever to push them along, and a decent sized crate that Forgrim could only guess what was in it.

The two held the lever horizontal and the trolley slowed to a stall. Forgrim saw two of his grab the length of timber they had fashioned for solely this purpose and pushed it out across the dark churning river and onto the other side of the bank, acting as a crude, yet effective, bridge.

Forgrim walked over as the two dwarves grunted as they lifted the heavy crate and slowly made their way across the wooden ramp.

"Any trouble gettin' here?"

But the two dwarves ignored his words. Neither of them even glanced in his direction as they moved the crate into the clearing. Once they were a ways onto solid ground they unceremoniously let go of the crate. Causing it to send slush and mud flying from the impact. One of the dwarves looked around as if searching for something or someone.

His gaze didn't even stop on any of them as he did so. He then turned and spotted the covered hole nearby and marched over to it. He grunted before kicking some slush down the hole. Earning a startled yelp, followed by a groan of pain, from Odeas as whatever devilry the Haunter placed upon him burrowed into his skull.

Odeas groaned as he climbed out of his hole and looked bitterly towards the two dwarves. The one that had kicked the slush down the gnome hole glared back and jabbed a rough finger towards the crate.

"See ta it tha' tha shipment reaches tha godlin', gnome. And. Don't. Be. Late."

He jammed his thick finger against Odeas' bulbous nose to punctuate each word as if to hammer home the point. Then the two dwarves turned and started to walk away from the fuming gnome. Forgrim cleared his throat as they neared.

"We ain't got much, but if-"

He didn't even get to finish his offer of hospitality before one of the dwarves brushed past him. Sending Forgrim to the slush and mud. Not a comment. Not a scoff or grunt. Not even a stray glance. Nothing. To the two dwarves he as well not have been there at all.

Forgrim felt a pit in his chest. He knew the terms of their exile. Their banishment. But out here away from the rest of the clan he thought some of their kin would at least acknowledge them. Their existence at least. But no. Even here in the wild away from the closest piece of dwarfdom, they didn't exist to them. They would likely only interact with them if they absolutely had to. Yet probably not even then, Forgrim thought as a couple of his lot helped him up and watched the two dwarves grunt as they drove the trolley back down the tracks towards the hub.

Then they all looked towards the crate. Forgrim took a chisel and wedged it between the lid and popped it off. It took barely a glance to know the contents. Tools. Before he could take a count and condition of what was within it though, Odeas ran over and slammed the lid shut. The gnome made to speak before his thorned crown dug into his skull, killing the words before they even left his throat.

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Odeas groaned before glaring at the crown then at Forgrim and them. He pointed a finger towards Forgrim and them, then at the crate, then towards the hills. Where the Haunter likely reside. Suffice it to say, Forgrim and them refused.

"No."

Odeas grumbled. Not enough for the cursed crown to harm him, but enough that he winced a little when it appeared he was close to actually saying something. He then pointed back towards the crate then again up towards the hills.

Yet Forgrim and them were adamant.

"No. If that beast wants it's treasure it can come and collect it itself."

The others grunted in approval and returned to their work. Forgrim nodded his head as if to say that it was settled and went back to work, leaving Odeas to hiss and stamp in frustration.

-----

Trout's Landing.

"So what is it?" Jeb asked as he handed one of the strange amethyst crystals from the giant snail to the Chief after explaining what he kinda knew of them.

The Chief hummed as he observed the strange crystal along with the small collection Jeb got from where the snail had been killed. He went between the regular solid color crystals and the one spider-webbed with his power or corruption. He wasn't entirely sure which himself.

He looked between the two and wandered around and seemed to do various tests. Holding them up to catch the light and see what colors and refractions they made. Tapping against them with claw and stone and hearing the sounds they made from each. Staring intently at them. Rubbing all sorts of stuff on them from what appeared to be ground plant matter to just plain ol' dirt.

After a rather long, and he wasn't entirely sure even necessary, testing, he gave each crystal an exploratory lick of his forked tongue, gave a grunt in satisfaction, turned to Jeb, and said with a smile.

"I don't know."

"All that and you don't know?"

"Nope! Not a clue!" The Chief replied in an upbeat manner before going over and placing them with the others, save for the one touched by Jeb, which he placed off to the side away from the others.

"Do you at least have an idea what they are or what they do?"

"Nope!" The Chief replied and picked up a piece of charcoal from nearby and scribbled something in the increasingly growing book of... everything, the Chief had.

Jeb leaned over his shoulder and spotted some crude drawings of the crystals along with some idle scratchings of what possibilities.

-Anti-magic?

-Mana crystal?

-Tasty Seasoning?

Jeb wasn't sure about the last one, but the other two he could kinda see. Kinda.

"So what now?"

"Now? Now we get back to work!" The Chief replied and wandered away from the crystals.

"Wait, that's it?" Jeb replied even as others of the tribe wandered over and started to pick through the pile of purple crystals.

The Chief shrugged.

"It is. I did what I could. If they do something, anything, I don't know what or how."

"But what about-" Jeb was about to ask and pointed to where one of the tribe picked up the corrupted crystal and ooh'd and aw'd at it before scampering off into the warren.

"As far as I can tell, they do seem to have some sort of containment property. But my own magic didn't seem to activate whatever it could be. But I'm only versed in a little bit of magical teachings. None of which seemed to affect the crystal. My other tests didn't seem to do anything either." The Chief replied with a shrug.

"So what? They're just normal crystals?" Jeb asked as he turned but lost sight of the kobold that meandered off with the corrupted crystal.

"As far as I can tell they're slightly more than normal. But nothing to really be concerned about." The Chief replied as he went towards the fungal farm and glanced around at the space.

"Ya know, whenever someone tells me to not be concerned with somethin' is usually when I should be even more concerned." Jeb said as he followed along.

"Well, suppose we could try and break them to see if that does anything. But of course there is the chance it explodes. Or unleashes some creature trapped within it. Or-"

"Ok I get it. Let sleepin' dogs lie."

"Besides, if you couldn't break it, I doubt any of us would be able to. They're more than likely completely harmless." The Chief said.

"Yeah, right." Jeb said in an unsure voice.

-----

The kobold looked at the solid purple crystal in his hands. It would make for a good treasure, he thought as he scurried through the tunnels and to where he slept. He entered the small den for himself. It was sparse and snug, but his. On the stoney ground was a thin bit of colorful waxy fabric from something called a "shower". In the small cubby holes were his own personal collection of treasures. The tribe shared anything useful and practical to the tribe itself. But each kobold kept a few little things that were deemed personal treasures that the tribe didn't really have a use or need for. Most would be used for bartering. But more than a few of them simply hoarded them because it was in their nature to hoard what they liked.

Some liked the shiney copper string found in some of the items from Jeb's home. Others liked the pink fluff in the roof and walls of the home. Others liked certain oddly shaped rocks or sticks. It didn't matter what it was, if they deemed it a personal treasure it was hoarded.

The purple crystal the Chief had and declared wasn't of use to the tribe? He'll take it for himself! He scooted over to where a small flickering ember of the blue flame twirled and danced as it illuminated the small nook. He didn't need the light to see. But he did need it for something else, he thought as he produced the rest of his collection of crystals and glittering rocks and held them to the bale light.

He ooh'd and aw'd as it caught the light and sent colors across his scales and his little nook and the small little rat skull he had carved with Jeb and the others. Then he heard something. He turned towards the noise where a small rat stared at him with steady black eyes.

"Oh hello little friend."

His voice usually caused rodents to flee. But this one has been hanging around no matter what. It doesn't eat anything. It doesn't poop anywhere. As far as he knows, it just exists.

The kobold shrugged as the rat scampered over next to the blue fire, the flame causing the rat's eyes to glow an eerie blue. As the kobold started to put away his treasures for the time being, he heard a raspy whisper come from the rat!

"Crystal. Flame."

"What?" The kobold asked and looked at the rat in confusion and surprise.

The rat seemed to point at his newest treasure then towards the fire.

"Crystal. Flame."

The kobold glanced between the crystal and the flame for a moment. But then shrugged his shoulders and reached the purple crystal towards the fire. Before the kobold could blink, the fire leapt towards the crystal! The purple crystal hummed and vibrated as the small flame poured and flowed into it!

The kobold closed his eyes and waited for something to happen. Anything really. But as he inched open his eyes, he saw something amazing. The flame was within the crystal! Yet it continued to dance and twirl. The kobold jolted when he heard his little rat friend's raspy voice once more!

"Crystal. Root."

"Root? What root?" He asked only for his eyes to go wide in understanding.

He picked up the glowing crystal that felt warm to the touch and scampered out into the tunnel and looked above his little den. Just above him was a thick root of the great tree. He looked down and saw the little rat point towards the crystal then at the root.

The kobold smiled innocently and nodded before climbing the tunnel and placing the crystal next to the root. But he frowned when the flame seemed trapped. He looked once more down and saw the rat staring up at him.

He hummed in thought before exclaiming and stabbing the crystal into the root! As it entered the root, the flame shot through the crystal and into the root! The root seemed to shudder as did the tunnel. For only a moment before the crystal once more contained the flame. But when he tried to retrieve it, he found it stuck fast into the root! He pulled and pulled but the crystal wouldn't budge!

Sighing and falling to the tunnel floor, he kicked a rock at losing his new treasure. But at least it was still pretty, he thought as he shrugged and darted down the tunnel. He turned to see if his little rat friend was following him, but he found his friend had disappeared once more. He was used to it though, his little friend would usually show up seemingly out of nowhere, and either stare at him or whisper something to him, then vanish.

The kobold darted down the tunnel without a worry for his little friend. Unaware that the crystal flared for but a moment, and it grew.