Risky Rich: The Mythopoetry of Kobolds

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We do not belong here.

We've come seeking wealth. Coal, iron, copper, silver, gold, gems. We know they lie there, just beneath our feet. So we dig, we pry, we burrow, our hunger for these hidden objects insatiable.

We shouldn't be here. We are creatures of the light, of the field, of the surface. We cannot live without the sun. We must become wealthy, though, and so we dig, into the darkness, into the damp, into the crushing weight of the planet's innards.

We dig down, and we find that things are here already.

That smell. That spark. That eerie echo. That incessant knocking. This cave-in was clearly no accident. This pit shows signs of clever hands. There is poison in the ore. There are bodies beneath the rubble. There is a skittering noise ahead, somewhere in the vast darkness. There is something here. It has lived here for longer than we have been a species, dwelling among the rocks and ores. It has watched us as we have plundered its home. It hates us. It wants us gone.

We do not belong here. The kobolds do.

KM’s Kobolds
For me, what sets apart the kobolds is that they are representations of the dangers of mining and being underground.
The poisonous gases? The sudden collapses or pitfalls? The illness, the soot, the fiery explosions? "Accidents?" Maybe. But in a world of magic, there is often a will and a force behind the arbitrary. There are people who do these things to us. This is the mischief of kobolds.

Kobolds are miners. This has defined their existence in the way magic has defined the elves, or metallurgy has defined the dwarves. The kobolds dig, mining constantly, seeking out veins of ore and smelting more refined metals out of it. They do not seek high craft and art like the dwarves, but what they lack in aesthetic merit they make up for in industriousness. A kobold lair and a kobold mine are the same thing, and they are driven to acquire these bits of wealth much like a dragon is, seeking it out as a component of their lives and a measure of their worth as individuals. Kobolds are as fiercely materialistic as they are cruel, and they let no bit of copper or hunk of iron go without a great wail, and, likely, a painful retribution.

Never a fight, though. Cowardly and weak, a kobold's only recourse is a passive-aggressive pathology. They scurry from combat, whimper in fear of pain, and seek easy leisure quickly, but, when deprived of these things, the kobolds become bitter, spiteful, and cruel. They will not kill the interlopers, but they will make sure the interlopers meet a horrible end.

It's this reason why they are famed as trap-builders. They know the dangers of the underground world better than most, and employ gasses, flammables, poisons, particulates, spikes, rocks, and even water judiciously and cleverly in their elaborate trap systems. A kobold mine bristles with more hazards than creatures, and such is their drive to protect what little they have that these traps will guard even the most anemic mineral veins. There is little sense of proportionality in the mind of a kobold. A theft must be punished, no matter how small, because it is an insult against the very essence of a person: their wealth.

Their cowardice is also a reason why they are often enslaved by bigger, stronger races. Combined with their skill at mining, they become a useful tool for creatures like orcs or hobgoblins, creating large amounts of metal for the use of these bigger, strong races who have coerced them. A kobold lair may bristle with traps, but if they can be overcome, defeated, or ignored, the kobolds themselves are servile and obedient, at least as far as the lash reaches. Dragons (especially red dragons, the most avaricious of a very greedy lot) exploit this servility perhaps most boldly of all. Some dragons have entire nations of kobold-miners working under them, supplying the dragon with a font of wealth from within the dragon's lair, while the dragon, after a fashion, protects its serfs, at least while those serfs are contributing valuable goods.

Of course, kobold spite runs deep, as well. They would eagerly betray most any creature that would take from them what their hard work gained, for whatever end. They are well aware of their own cowardice and weakness, however, and so rarely believe they have a chance to do much more than steal, become lazy, and otherwise express their displeasure in minor, disruptive ways. With dragons, they rarely even seek to do that -- some see themselves as distant relatives of those majestic creatures, noticing how important treasure is to them, and how their russet color is like a red dragon's brilliant crimson...just...smaller, dirtier...but closer to those creatures than any other species.

Kobolds in my mind are especially associated with iron mines. The red ochre, hemetite, and pyrite that contain iron ore are mined out by kobolds, and many kobold picks are made of hardened iron. Kobolds have russet-red or sulfurous-yellow bodies that blend in with these minerals (and the dust from their processing) well, and their clothes carry this color scheme, too. They also use a false ore, cobalite, which resembles pyrite, to fool those who try and take their iron. This ore doesn't turn into iron when smelted, but rather into a toxic gas, which afflicts any who breathe it in. It's a typical kobold prank -- you think you've got valuable metal, and you really have a deadly trap, just waiting to be unlocked.

The false ore can be used to create a deep blue pigment as well, and some kobolds employ this as an accent color to their reds and yellows -- a deep, vivid, dark blue. If they were more artistic, they could turn the sands of the pigment into blue glass, or blue for ceramics, but kobolds are numb to asthetics -- they would much rather have the valuable metal than the pretty powder.

Their association with iron mines also gives them an association with magnetism, a force they are familiar with, but rarely employ. Lodestones are a curiosity for them, occasionally useful in sifting through the remains of a mine-lair for errant shards of ore not captured by whoever controls the clan, or more often for lair construction, using massive lodestones as things that bear weight, or are useful in creating havoc when well-armed adversaries try and storm the lair.

In the mines, they also have a close association with the water therein. Useful in smelting, and sometimes containing ore itself, rivers and streams are empolyed by kobolds where possible, many using them as a sort of rail system (but on barges), moving the ore and the miners back and forth between locations in the mine. This closeness with water not only serves them well in traps, but also keeps them close to their animal companions: the dire weasel. The creature dwells in the rivers and, once the kobold's mine tailings have decimated the natural ecosystem there, the creature is able to be tamed with gifts of food. Weasel pelts become useful textiles for the kobolds, warm and water-resistant.

The mines also give them their hostility with the gnomes. Gnomes, though gem-lovers, are not particularly interested in exploiting the minerals they find in their underground homes with anything like the tenacious ferocity of a mine of kobolds. Gnomes, furthermore, as clever tricksters themselves, often bypass kobold traps, and may in turn trick a kobold. Ever spiteful, the kobold cannot forget or forgive this slight, and so the bitterness between the two earth-spirits continues. The gnomes are interested in the wonder and beauty of these minerals, while the kobolds are interested in their value, and the gnomes defend their claim (and take those of the kobolds) with cleverness, aplomb, and an ability to avoid the traps that kobolds set for them that seems uncanny. Over-sensitive, desperate, and spiteful, the kobolds nurse their grudge into a fury, and yet find no release for it, being far too scared to fight a clan of gnomes. But occasionally, when a gnome is wandering through a field of gems alone...

The twin prongs of cowardice and spite run through in encounters with kobolds that adventurers have, as well. Quick to flee, the creatures rarely present much of a combat challenge, but a person walking through kobold-controlled territory quickly learns to prod everything carefully, and from a great distance. One never knows what rock may conceal a pit, or what wire may ignite a spark that fills the room with flame, or what valuable-looking treasure turns out to be toxic slag when dragged out of the cave. Kobolds are easy to frighten, and easy to bully, but those who do so recklessly will soon find themselves dead by toxic gas, falling boulders, or deadly pitfalls. Any adventure involving kobolds as an antagonist more properly involves kobold traps as antagonists, featuring the creatures themselves only as accents to the nefarious and multitudinous ways to die in kobold lands.

Adventurers come into contact with kobolds because civilization needs mines, and mines come with kobolds. Kobolds express their claim on a mine with traps and murders. When miners disappear, when poison starts seeping through the stones, when explosions and fires and airless coridoors claim lives, when a collapse traps miners within, kobolds are often responsible. An adventuring party that helps the miners must often also deal with the root of the kobold problem in the region, lest the vindictive little buggers return, just a little quieter this time.

A Peon of A Thousand Faces

Rat-tailed dog-men? Yipping goblinoids? Nefarious trap engineers? Laughable draconic poseurs? Cowardly candle fetishists? Few creatures in our little hobby have gone through as many different, distinct, and remarkable forms as a kobold. Never quite as “generic” as a goblin, but always a little weaker, a little more resentful, the creatures have occupied a unique space as the game’s most pathetic monsters for quite some time. However, the window dressing for this creature has been very different at different times in the game’s history (and even over inspired media).

The re-examinations of kobolds mostly come in the form of making them more dangerous in some way, employing traps or tactics to turn the weakest creature in the game in to a legitimate threat. While that's all well and good, I think the interesting element of the kobold comes from their association with the mines, and the first steps an adventurer takes into the sprawling underground in D&D.

The world beneath the earth has been a source of mysticism and fascination for human beings for millennia. As agricultural societies, that’s where our food comes from: under the earth. As stratified societies, that’s also where our wealth comes from: the mines. This mysterious place was full of bounty, but also full of severe danger, often ill-understood. A stink, a choking invisible gas, a sudden fiery explosion, a pit here, a collapse there…these hazards were the price we paid for everything from bronze weapons and armor in ancient Greece straight through to batteries and electronics today, metals mined in dangerous conditions throughout the less economically fortunate nations of the world, often exposing the surface to toxicity long-buried.

Kobolds are the dangers of our drive for wealth and riches, given teeth and picks and a chip on their shoulder. They are small and weak because that is what we are, at our most petty and resentful. They are the danger and unknown, alien world of the underground as well, a body count accrued obviously for the sake of riches, and usually not the riches of the person doing the mining.

Bits and Fobs
If you'd like to employ this version of kobolds in your game, you might want to try some of the following techniques:

  • Kobold (non)Kombat [Tactic]: Kobolds are cowards. Spiteful cowards, who carry a grudge, but cowards nonetheless. A striaght-up fight against them should not be something that really happens. If they cannot escape from the battle, they should die easily. There should be no such thing as an "epic fight against kobolds." If they do escape, they get away. Any fight should be quite binary, and not very thrilling or satisfying in and of itself.
  • The Environment Is Your Adversary [Tactic]: While a kobold itself might not stand and fight, this doesn't mean that an encounter with them risks being boring. Rather, the challenge in a kobold encounter is an exploration challenge, about moving from one point in space to another, without succumbing to the nefarious traps that kobolds have in store. A kobold might not kill a creature with its bare hands, but a pit trap or a rockfall trap or a poisonous gas trap or a trap of flammable vapors are all within the realm of possibility. Depending on how extreme you want it has a DM, you may even include a risk of a TPK with these traps. Little will save a party trapped in a mine collapse, or a great mine fire or flooding. Mine disasters are not even exceptionally uncommon today, and any of these could potentially befall a party interacting with the kobolds.
  • Everything Has A Price [Tactic]: Kobolds, who see the world in terms of wealth and value, may be particularly susceptible to bribery and coercion. Of course, only actual material wealth will be relevant: a kobold has no interest in the shiny gem or the gilded artwork or the fancy elven blade or the immaculate dwarven battleaxe. A grubby piece of platinum or chunk of copper would be more appropriate. Kobolds may be willing to buy and sell things that people would have no real need or want to buy or sell, simply for the desire for some material wealth. A body? A slave? An abstract concept in a bottle? Kobolds might be able to find a way to monetize that.
  • Trap Intimacy [Defense]: A kobold with this trait can choose not to trigger any trap that they've become aware of. A trap might still catch such a creature by surprise, but if it's aware of the hazard, there's no chance that the kobold will fall into it by accident. This can make them especially effective in areas where the kobold made the traps itself -- other creatures must tread lightly, but the kobold apparently doesn't trigger anything.
  • Provocation [Attack]: A kobold with this ability might offer a large bonus (+4) to a creature that can attack it in melee. This is, of course, something of a ruse -- a creature that charges into melee with the kobold will undoubtedly cross a few traps on their way.
 

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I like your take. I prefer kobolds to be somewhat reptilian, but without the draconic delusions of grandeur of late 3.5 supplements. And every kobold needs a candle. :)
 

I always liked those little guys. They seemed much more sympathetic than halflings or other small races - mainly because we just keep barging into their territory, taking their stuff, and claiming we're the good guys.

Whenever I can, I try to make any sapient creature much less of a monster, and much more of a person. Kobolds are perfect candidates for that. Instead of fighting, they'd rather run or throw rocks around the invaders, telling them to leave. If "adventurers" decide to attack those reptiles, despite them behaving fully like a person would in a house, I strike a little mark towards evil alignment in everyone who doesn't question attacking these people.
 

Personally, I like linking them specifically to red dragons, because, IMO, they form nice "bookends" for adventuring life. Red dragons are one of the most powerful creatures in the mortal world...kobolds one of the most pathetic. Both like hoarding wealth, but kobolds have to work hard and get enslaved, while red dragons take what they want and enslave others. The iron mines giving them a rusty twinge even works with the color scheme: kobolds are literally pale reflections of the brilliant crimson dragons. Level 1, kill the kobolds, level 20, slay the red dragon. Levels 2-19, fart around. :)
 

I always liked those little guys. They seemed much more sympathetic than halflings or other small races - mainly because we just keep barging into their territory, taking their stuff, and claiming we're the good guys.

Whenever I can, I try to make any sapient creature much less of a monster, and much more of a person. Kobolds are perfect candidates for that. Instead of fighting, they'd rather run or throw rocks around the invaders, telling them to leave. If "adventurers" decide to attack those reptiles, despite them behaving fully like a person would in a house, I strike a little mark towards evil alignment in everyone who doesn't question attacking these people.

I've been going in the opposite direction lately: trying to make nonhuman races/species weirder and more alien.

I'm not a fan of most monster ecology type articles. Monsters are supposed to be inscrutable and mysterious--that's what makes them fantastical.

I'd like to see what they look like, what they do, their basic personality, and then leave the rest to the imagination.
 

I've been going in the opposite direction lately: trying to make nonhuman races/species weirder and more alien.

I'm not a fan of most monster ecology type articles. Monsters are supposed to be inscrutable and mysterious--that's what makes them fantastical.

I'd like to see what they look like, what they do, their basic personality, and then leave the rest to the imagination.

I just always found it unsettling that creatures with near-human intelligence, clearly capable of abstract thinking and implicitly free-willed are reduced to canon fodder. If it can talk to you in a reasonable way, and isn't bound to an alignment like a demon, it should never be made into a "monster". And for my personal needs, world full of people of all kinds of shapes and colours (and textures, I guess) felt perfect.

My monsters are either bestial (clearly animalistic, incapable of talking and at best possessing a bestial cunning but without the capacity to comprehend the morality of their actions), or just so incomprehensibly distant or alien that they think on completely different categories. Yeah, the players in my world would still fight kobolds, orcs and goblins, but they're equally likely to fight a human, gnome or goliath (who happens to be a member of an evil organisation).

Of course, that's just my approach due to my... fantastical humanism, so keep on going however you want. (Just don't make me fight an orc just because MM says "always chaotic evil")
 

I really like this take on the kobold as the embodiment of the dangers of the mines, and, by extension, the "Dungeons" of "Dungeons and Dragons." And thematically, as the personification of the smallness and pettiness of greedy people involved in extractive resource-hunting, kobolds make great foils for low-level PCs, who are essentially small, petty, greedy people involved in extractive resource-hunting. I like the tactics, and they make me think about how best to get this theme across in a gaming session. "Everything Has a Price," in particular, seems ripe for the picking in this regard.
 

I just always found it unsettling that creatures with near-human intelligence, clearly capable of abstract thinking and implicitly free-willed are reduced to canon fodder. If it can talk to you in a reasonable way, and isn't bound to an alignment like a demon, it should never be made into a "monster". And for my personal needs, world full of people of all kinds of shapes and colours (and textures, I guess) felt perfect.

My monsters are either bestial (clearly animalistic, incapable of talking and at best possessing a bestial cunning but without the capacity to comprehend the morality of their actions), or just so incomprehensibly distant or alien that they think on completely different categories. Yeah, the players in my world would still fight kobolds, orcs and goblins, but they're equally likely to fight a human, gnome or goliath (who happens to be a member of an evil organisation).

Of course, that's just my approach due to my... fantastical humanism, so keep on going however you want. (Just don't make me fight an orc just because MM says "always chaotic evil")
Well I'm not inclined to make monsters more alien and mysterious to make them easier to kill indiscriminately. I just find it more interesting.
 

For me, it's not so much the ecology as it is the play experience.

Kobolds should feel different in play from mind flayers and goblins and hobgoblins and centaurs.

If they're all just "horrible nightmare creatures," that's fine, but it can be kind of homogenizing. Monsters are monsters are monsters. I'm reminded of Inuyasha, and the countless demons rendered into dust by waves of power. They're pretty much only there to be destroyed, and their differences don't really matter.

It does make the world seem more humano-centric, which can be a good thing if that's the style. But I don't think it's incompatible with the idea that coming up against kobolds should feel different than coming up against devils, personally -- even if your monsters are just Bad Guys, it can be useful to know that you need to fight against a kobold infestation in the mines in a different way than you fight against a goblin invasion at midnight.
 

My previous post may have left some people thinking I have all my bad guys be some alien, devilish creatures. All my monsters yes, but not all bad guys. You don't have to be a monster to be a bad guy in my games. Quite the contrary: most of my bad guys are meant to be rather human. For example, in a recent game I had goliaths as bad guys for a dwarven country. Their leader was a cunning warlord who looked devious and firm in direct confrontations - but when one infiltrated his group to see him up close, you could see a lot of nuance to him and his commanders, including disagreements between him and his monstrous half-undead brother. You could see he's just doing what he believes is right to help his people, even if he has to trample a few dwarves on his way there. And his monster brother? Unrepentant, homicidal bastard with vampiric tendencies. Who loves his brother dearly.

Kobolds didn't really come up there, but if they were bad guys, I'd treat them similarly. They'd be in conflict of interests with the players, but not really evil - at best, their leader would be evil. But most likely, the little sneaky lizardy guys would be used as cannon fodder by a draconic big bad (who's doing evil out of boredom).
 

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