After the fiasco with Chemmie's unlabeled potions, Jordan moved in to the chemist's warren until the transformation wore off. The warren was friendly to an outside kobold, even to one so insistent that he was formerly a Luxray. Jordan almost found them too friendly, as their handsy curiosity resulted in many belly gropes. It was rare for a kobold to be so pudgy, as their physiology proved resilient to retaining fat. The clothing being limited to loincloths and accessories was also quite an adjustment to get used to!

The transformation did not, however, wear off. With time to spare and little better to do as a wandering adventurer, Jordan studied under Chemmie and the warren's sage in search of a cure. A quick learner and avid notetaker, Jordan's brewing went from volatile to versatile over the next few months, though the potential of a draft exploding was never out of the question. The obstinate insistence on verbal record keeping and habitual lack of labeling from the warren proved to be a challenge at first, but with each disaster potion came a new note for the book of 'bold brews. The sage had an impressive memory but a cluttered mind, so the philosophy of 'brew it small, then brew it right' saved Jordan from many nasty outcomes. After all, there's no way to prove what a potion does without drinking it, so it was best to brew with a short duration in mind.

"Konkoctions," as they were called, were a clever alternative school of potion crafting for kobolds. Where civilization would distill and boil, Konkoctions were brewed like soup. The imperfections, the excess, the unnecessary, it was all an opportunity to enhance your 'dish.' The tall folk would call it 'crude' or 'unfocused' or 'chaotic.' But could those alchemists brew a fabric-mending salve? Each ingredient, each little oddity, it was all slowly mapped out in Jordan's notes like a growing tree. Each branch was a possibility, each leaf a desirable outcome. Konkoctions didn't have to explode immediately, even the most volatile could accept their existence with the right touch!

Around 6 months later, Jordan hadn't kept count very well, he announced he was leaving the warren. With notes on every common ingredient and even a few rarer ones, there had been no cure discovered. He needed to leave his new home-away-from-home to seek new ingredients, new possibilities, and new ways to Konkoct. The warren had grown to depend on him and his talents for repairs, treatment, and advice, but Chemmie assured him they'd do fine. There were one-and-a-half chemists sticking around, after all. The sage would scoff in amused agreement, for "Chemmie was most certainly the half."

Preparing his old belt as a bandolier, and with crucial journeying staples brewed, Jordan set off! He already had a destination in mind: Rivershome. Located on the nexus of three major rivers, the city was a major trade center for the country and a perfect place to establish as a home base for his research. He needed that trade to stand a chance with gathering exotic ingredients, and to sell his brews to have the coin to buy them.

---

The culture shock with the tall folk was immediate. Terribly bold, or perhaps just oblivious, Jordan advanced down the road to Rivershome, into a local village... and right into a worn blade pointed at his head. The warren had a poor reputation for their thievery and mischief, and here he was running around like he was still a Luxray almost twice his height. Worse, he had only now recognized his newfound accent with the talk folk to juxtapose it. Yes-yes, the talk folk did not speak-articulate-utter words like this! Quick on his feet, the budding alchemist performed a demonstration on the threatening blade, repairing it with a metal salve pre-prepared for his trip. While it saved his life, he still held no trust with the locals and was forced to leave quickly.

Lesson learned, Jordan traveled more carefully to the next village. Alchemy was not all he learned with the warren, and he put his kobold cleverness to good use on the road. The ability to sleep uncomfortably made him uncomfortable in his waking hours; he did not like dancing so close to the edge of 'creature.' By the first sizable town the warren's reputation was no longer so local. By going from local threat to alien oddity, Jordan felt emboldened to peddle his trade with the townsfolk. While none were willing to buy ingestible brews from a strange kobold, he was able to scrap together coin for the inn by selling at a hideously large discount. The comfort was worth the price to ease his mind, though he resolved to be more cautious rationing his ingredients on the road.

This did not prove to be a pattern on his way to Rivershome. The further he traveled the more awestruck gawking he inspired, which began working in his favor peddling potions for fairer prices. It wasn't long before his pouch chinked as he walked. The real windfall came several towns later at a tavern, where a timely splash of sleeper's brew saved the barkeep from a nasty brawl with angry drunkards wielding axes. Jordan was half-expecting a free stay at the tavern for compensation, but a free dinner too was quite unexpected! The tall seats proved a minor challenge to reach his reward though.

Word began to spread through the town of a kobold alchemist solving problems, and the next morning Jordan was surprised to find eager locals asking for aid. Some understood healing potions and repair salves were in the wheelhouse of a traveling chemist, while others made bold declarations for love poisons and- ahem- 'enhancement' draughts! Not that enhancement draughts were beyond Jordan's abilities of course, but no one was finding horseroot around here. The crowd was largely disappointed by what requests he could manage to meet, though he kept it secret that he was trying to protect his limited supply. Trading for coin was a lovely thing but coin wouldn't save your life on the road.

---

Eventually, he had made it. Rivershome! ...And he was barred from entering. Jordan scowled at first, lamenting the same foolish oversight that had nearly killed him the first time, until he realized no one was allowed to enter Rivershome. A quarantine perhaps? Already his hand drifted to a health vial. Unfortunately, the guards were less than enthused with answering his questions. While the lasses found his tendency to alliterate adorable, the serious types found it to be... chastising, of all things. Jordan made another mental note to watch his speaking-tongue-habits as he was shooed away.

Still the attempts to gather information were not fruitless, as the squabble caught the attention of a cloaked human. His voice was younger than Jordan expected from one of the individual's height, though begrudgingly he reconciled that with how short a kobold is. "Hey. You wanna get into the city? Get me a healing potion, the good stuff not the cheap crap, and I can get you in."

The roguish individual may as well have been offering a golden ticket for free with a condition like that. It wasn't long before Jordan found himself in the dark underbelly of the city, pausing to craft a quick no-smell puff out of salt, tree leaves, and a vaporizing jolt through his hands. He was thankful he still had his electrical abilities in some capacity from his time as a Luxray, it enabled some specialized alchemy on-the-go. Anything to spare him the smell of the sewer.

Once inside, Jordan flashed a gold coin to bargain information from his uncanny tour guide. One coin for the local alchemist's shop and directions- Herbs & Spices, just north, built from red brick, can't miss it- and a second coin to identify the city's predicament. "Whole city's on lockdown, no one in or out. Eli- the governor's daughter was poisoned. Scumbag's still inside the city." A pause. A third coin. "Hm. You catch on quick. My 'group' has been guarding the discrete exits. He can't leave with us on watch, so the guards will find him soon enough." A fourth coin was offered, but instead the rogue continued. "She's... not going to make it in her condition. And the governor is distrustful of any healers right now. So thanks for the healing potion."

Targeted for a healing potion fee. Knowing the daughter by name. Strong distaste of the poisoner. Unaligned thieves assisting the guard. It all came together before the thanks was even uttered. The shrouded individual couldn't make it more than a step before Jordan rebutted. "Healing potion won't save-rescue-cure Eliana. You need stronger potion, antivenom. Yes-yes. We should visit potion shop, buy-stock-supply ingredients for antivenom."

The rogue froze. "Uh...! It won't? You'll... help anyway?"

"Yes-yes! That's my job."

"...Humph. Alright. And her name's Eliza, by the way. Good guess."

"...Blast."

---

Bastian was not expecting a thief and a kobold to barge into his quiet shop that day, but once gold was on the table his curiosity turned to fascination. They claimed to be brewing an antitoxin, oddly topical given the current geopolitical climate, but they were purchasing all the wrong ingredients! Nettlebane, cloud's cotton, and alchemist's salt? They'd sooner brew a poison than an antitoxin, if the magics even congealed in such an ugly mixture.

His advice, sadly, was ignored. In fact the kobold looked downright annoyed. The short fellow placed the ingredients inside a bottle of his own, poured water inside, and dropped the alchemist's salt in before corking the bottle. What, were the two trying to play pretend-alchemist to save the governor's daughter? The guards would dissuade that idea if the smell of this brew didn't, the city's best had already tried to help and failed to enter. Poor girl, she'd die to her father's own overprotection.

The bottle's interior fizzed as the blue-scaled fellow shook the bottle, and right when Bastian felt compelled to hide behind the counter for a certain explosion it was placed over a live burner. The bubbling absurdly dissipated. What on Ogma's green globe? The kobold gently waved the bottles over the fire for a few seconds, before pulling it away. With a wave goodbye, the duo exited as abruptly as they entered and Bastian was left dumbstruck.

Who? What? How did... Bastian would swear he was high on spilled aroma-therapeutics if he didn't have the gold to prove his visitors' existence. He buried his head in his hands, rubbing his temple. What sort of mad sorcery was in that bottle? And could he replicate it? ...But first, a headache medication.

---

It was a happy ending for all parties involved. Eliza miraculously recovered over the next couple days, baffling the local healers until the antitoxin in her system was discovered by the now-permitted visitors. While the governor was initially pissed, his daughter's survival smoothed over his anger at the breach in security. They never found the secret door the secret boyfriend was using to slip in and out.

The identified saboteur was mysteriously discovered tied up at the door of the guard's barracks in the morning, permitting open travel in and out of the city again.

The rogue, meanwhile, had vanished. Jordan never learned his name. Yet every so often, a note would appear slipped under the door. Potion requests, and drop-off locations. Then, dead dropped gold or ingredient payments. Shady perhaps, but surprisingly rewarding. And Jordan knew where the potions were going anyway. What a suspicious amount of healing and repair salve requests to be dead dropped in the poor quarter! Rookie mistake. Jordan would have to write a note reminding him to mix it up a little.

While Jordan anticipated growing friendly with a local alchemist, he did not anticipate being offered a place to stay in exchange for "showing me how you brewed whatever the hell you did yesterday to save Eliza." Within a couple months their arrangement of curiosity became a joint venture of learning, profit, and exploration. Bastian's delicate countenance kept him firmly inside the city's walls, but Jordan's rugged form made him well-equipped for expeditions and mercenary work. A merchant to trade for exotics at home, an adventurer to seek rarities afar. Truly a mutually beneficial relationship, even if it was with a kobold.

The tales of the adventuring kobold alchemist are quiet for now, but word will surely spread in the future. They say he used to be a Luxray, you know. Even he finds that hard to believe sometimes! The cure was no longer urgent, reduced to a side gig curiosity. It wasn't so bad, y'know, being a kobold. Perhaps he found a different cure to a different problem~

---

I love the look of my kobold form, and I felt he needed a story/context to fit. What you may- or may not- have read above is an abridged version of the story I had in mind. But it was far too long and tedious for what I wanted to achieve, so I've settled for this version instead of the half-written hell the first draft is stuck in. I hope it's still enjoyable! Not really meant to be a professional best or anything, my big goal was capturing the idea. I've noticed I have a mysterious habit of writing kobold lore late into ungodly hours of the night (tonight being no exception), which hopefully hasn't interfered with the quality.

And yes, this is a sequel of sorts to this old TF sequence (link)! Only took me 5 years, haha. Worth the wait, you think!

Artist:   Kyrio
Original post: none
Original date: 4/17/2023