Shin Quickmouth strums lazily at his lute. The melody is a melancholy one. He's spent a week now in the company of Tinker, an aged and wizened artificer and Andry, a middle aged halfling with the Mark of Hospitality. Difficult to pass up such comforts, especially this far from the nearest city. It has been a week of being warm, well feed, and treated with respect, something he doesn't often experience in his travels. The life of a Kobold bard is not exactly an easy one, which is why he mostly sticks to comedy to earn his way; somehow laughter is more easily accepted from a two foot one inch tall lizard creature than epic verse and history (lizard isn't fair, there are many who believe the Kobold hail from the progeniture dragons themselves). Shin makes a mental note to be less hard on himself, but in his time here he has grown more and more pessimistic about his chosen passion and himself. More and more doubtful that he will ever find what he sought when he'd set out from his home tunnels beneath Fairhaven.

Shin is a historian at heart and in particular he is a study of the ancient Dhakaani Empire that once ruled over the whole of Khorvaire. He has attempted to restore the glory of this bygone empire through tale and song, but few if any care. Even the goblinoids he has come across have little interest, too focused on the present to care for their rich and glorious history. Perhaps that is why they are mostly thugs, living lives from hand to mouth, sword to coin. That or Ghaal'har, living mostly in Droamm and battling each other for scraps of the power they once had.

Sighing to himself, Shin looks up from his lute and catches sight of Coco in the distance. The strange halfling is not alone and it doesn't take long for Shin to recognize the familiar shape and stature of a goblin. But this is no thug or Ghaal'har tribesman. This is something different. From the medallion around his neck, catching the dappled light through the trees to the strange white robes, this is definitely something different. Pessimism is nearly instantly replaced by the optimism that so often drove his mother to shake her head. It may be ridiculous, but there could even be a chance that this is exactly what Shin has been looking for. After all, the Dhakaani once ruled the whole of the world, why couldn't there be a true descendent here, in Aundair, walking right into his life. Destiny is a funny thing. How could Shin have ever despaired?

Shin puts down his lute and steps forward, bracing himself for the vigorous hug that is soon to come. He hears Coco shout a greeting and feels the arms of the halfling envelope him.

"Shin, you won't believe the adventure we had. Do you know my new friend?" Coco says excitedly, breaking the embrace. He gestures to the goblin.

With a reluctant, but noble expression, the goblin steps forward and to Shin's surprise, also embraces him. Stepping back, the goblin bows.

"I am Cricket Stonespur, a monk of the Hundred Stones, emissary of the High Muckmuck Gargis the Wise and servant of my people. Well met."

A massive smile plays across Shin's face, exposing his sharp, pointed teeth. He tries to reign in his excitement.

"I'm Shin, Shin Quickmouth. I can not tell you how long I have waited to meet you. I have so many questions. It's an honor." The words tumble out of his mouth in a rush, but he can't help it.

Cricket seems confused, or perhaps just taken aback, it's hard to tell. The goblin clears his throat.

"Coco offered me the hospitality of your home. I don't wish to intrude, but I've been at the mercy of the sea for some time and…"

"Oh, say no more. Say no more. Come in. Andry will fix you right up. She loves visitors, even ones far below your significance. She'll be delighted. Come, come." Shin gestures with large sweeping hand motions and opens the door to the cottage. "Andry, we have one more for dinner."

Shin shouldn't have been surprised. Having something to do with Andry's Mark of Hospitality, she has set the large wooden table in the center of the main room for six, were yesterday it had been set for five. Laid out is an assortment of breads, cheeses, fall vegetables from the garden out back, and a roasted duck or goose—Shin isn't exactly a connoisseur of poultry and fowl, it all tastes like chicken to him. The plump halfling woman appears from Tinker's workshop in the back of the cottage, shaking her head dismissively, something she often does after speaking with Tinker. She makes her way straight to Cricket.

"Oh, my. Look at you dear. You look as if you haven't eaten in days. Sit, sit. I'll get you some water. No need to wait, not for you. Poor dear." Her head shaking only increases as she forcefully guides Cricket to a chair at the table.

"Thank you, Mistress," Cricket says, bowing his head.

"Mistress, what nonsense. You call me Andry, like everyone else."

Cricket bows again, curtly. "I am Cricket Stonespur, a monk of the Hundred Stones, emissary of the High Muckmuck Gargis the Wise and servant of my people."

"Now I hope you don't expect me to say all that every time I call you to table," Andry says with a laugh. "I can manage Cricket or Mr. Stonespur, as you like."

"Is Andry your given name?"

"Aye."

"Then Cricket, if it pleases you."

Andry smiles. "Eat up then Cricket. Don't be shy." She turns to Shin and Coco. "Sit down so he doesn't feel like a fish in a bowl. Eat up. You know Tinker is going to take his time."

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As if on cue, the door to the workshop swings open and a tall, thin older man appears in the room, with wispy white hair combed back over his pate and an ill kept grey beard that looks as if it couldn't be bothered to grow out properly. He shuffles to the head of the table and sits down gingerly.

"I can hear you babbling about me. The door isn't that thick," he says, his voice deep and rumbling, rolling over his r's. "If I remember correctly, this is my cottage."

"If I remember correctly, I told you I would be happy to leave and let it fall apart if you continue to show up late to dinner."

Tinker scoffs, but he turns his attention to the food. "It smells good. Wheat or barely in the bread?"

Andry doesn't answer him, instead resuming her head shaking.

Shin waits for a everyone to get situated and for Cricket to get at least a few mouthfuls in before he starts asking his questions. Waiting ten minutes seems fair enough. Besides, he can't possibly contain his excitement any longer.

"Master Stonespur, please, tell me. Your home, is that where the empire settled after it fell—although fell is perhaps not exactly correct. You suffered a defeat, for sure, well, not for sure. I'm sure if the Gatekeepers had not come you would have still won the war against the Daelkyr, but I am right in assuming that you merely retreated to this Stonespur Island? Where is it by the way?"

"By the Host, little bard. Give the pour fellow some time to breath. Can't you see he's been through the ringer." Tinker rubs at his temples. "You have a knack for song and joke, but you can't appreciate peace and quiet on your life. Perhaps with a bit of quiet reflection you could learn a few of the whiskey songs I mentioned." Pouring himself several fingers of dark liquid from a flask, he turns to Coco. "You rclothes are all disheveled again. Have you been out by the shore?"

Coco frowns. "That's were the best beans are."

"I know that. Which is why I said you could go, but not without Gore."

Heavy foot steps fall against the stone floor as the figure of Gore appears at the bottom of the stairs. "He didn't tell me he was leaving," the deep, mechanical voice intones, his hinged metal jaw working in an approximation of human speech patterns.

Gore stands nearly half way to seven feet. His armored body is rust worn with the exception of his right arm which shines with a golden hue very different than the rest of his body. The sinews of organic metal visible in the joints between his armor are a deep violet, almost black. This is the Warforged Tinker rebuilt, saving him from death.

"I'm sorry Gore, but I didn't want to bother you again," Coco says.

"You don't bother me. It is my job to keep you safe."

Coco turns his eyes back down to his food. Then, as if noticing his mug for the first time, he asks: "Is this tea?"

"Yes," Andry admits. "Coffee is for after dinner, Coco."

"It's good that you have a guard for young Coco," Cricket offers. "It seems that there are ruffians in the woods who would do him harm."

This gets Tinker's attention and Shin readies himself for the tirade that is soon to follow from the old man. Tinker takes a large swill of whiskey and sets his glass down on the table with a thump.

"Gerald's men again?"

Coco shakes his head. "Don't know."

Tinker looks to Cricket. "Of course you wouldn't know. Gerald the Brown. A local bandit leader. Seems to think I have something of value. Something he can ransom by taking Coco hostage."

"Which is why this is no place for him. We are out in the middle of nowhere and they are just highwaymen without a highway," Andry states flatly.

Tinker's brows narrow. There is something more than he is letting on. In fact, and Shin had been thinking this for a while.

"Humph. Enough of the Brown. Coco, no more. You must go with Gore if you plan to venture out. I won't have this discussion again. And I won't be coming after you if he gets you. I'm much too odd for such nonsense."

Andry slaps the old man on the arm. "You will certainly go after him."

Tinker ignores her. "Cricket, may I ask. What part did you play in the war? This island you mention. Did your tribe take a side?"

Cricket looks confused. "What war do you speak of? My people have lived in peace for generations beyond even my great great-grandfather's time. Our dedication to the art of war, The Hundred Stones, and one another has kept any invaders from our shores."

It is everyone else's turn to look confused, although a smile again returns to Shin's face. If Cricket doesn't even know about the Last War, then he doesn't even know about the Five Nations. About Mournlands. The Treaty of Thronehold. This is even better than he hoped. A true connection to the old empire. A true goblin of Dhakaani.

Tinker clears his throat. "Surely you don't mean that your people don't even know of the war?"

"My apologies, Tinker, sir. I do not. If anyone does, it would be the High Muckmuck and I spoke to him personally, my honor it was, before coming to your shores. He did not mention a war."

"Fascinating." Tinker scratches his beard. "I didn't think any part of Khorvaire had been spared."

The conversation continues, with Andry telling the goblin of her time in Gatherhold as a member of House Ghallanda. How she cared for Tinker after his service in the war and has been caring for him ever since. They came upon Coco by chance and added him to their small makeshift family, although with his obvious gifts, Andry believes that Vedkyar is a better place for the young halfling. In her humble opinion, he belongs with House Jorasco where his gifts will be common place and less likely something to be exploited or taken advantage of, but Tinker scoffs.

"Karrnath is a decrepit, evil place. What kind of king would raise undead to fight for him. The people of Aundair would have never stooped so low. It is an abomination. If the Sovereign Host truly plays a part in our lives, then punishment will come for the citizens of Karrnath. Luckily for them, I have my doubts. But still, the dead should be left alone. Life is to be created. Either the normal way or with wit and skill. It should not be resurrected into servitude."

Attention seems to be drawn to Gore, whose expression is unreadable.

"The war was hard on Aundair, Cricket. Our land annexed away. We lost Thaliost to Thrane. The Eldeen Reaches abandoned us, succeeding half-way through the war. In my time at Arcanix, as a young man, studying, learning the ways of artificy, I would have never thought such a thing possible. But here we are. So better away from the cities I say. Better away from all of it." Tinker finishes his glass of whiskey, his words beginning to slur. "You stay as long as you like. Nothing out there but crap and more crap."

Andry goes over to Tinker and helps him to his feet. Gore comes to his side to steady him.

"Come on you old fool. Time for bed," Andry says, her voice doing a decent impression of sounding exasperated, but Shin can hear the tenderness behind the façade.

They aren't gone long. Rather than take the old Artificer up the steps, Gore and Andry take him to his workshop where a cot it kept for just this occasion. Shin doesn’t have time to pepper Cricket with another series of questions and when Andry returns, she quickly sets to getting Cricket settled in a room to rest and recoup from his ordeals.

The tune Shin plays while he drinks his coffee on the stoop beside Coco is a much more upbeat and hopeful one. He has found his muse—although research subject might be the better word. No, he thinks, muse is better. Surely this monk is destined to do great things and in that moment, sitting on the stoop, Shin decides he will be there to spread word of his greatness. To record his deeds and in turn, show everyone that his faith in the Dhakaani Empire was not misplaced. It is alive and well.

He settles in to sleep with a wide toothy smile. It might take a while for the goblin to recover fully, but soon, their adventure will begin. Sleep comes and the world fades away.

Shin is in a tavern, telling his tales of Dhakaani's renaissance to rousing applause, cheers from all corners when a sharp crack snaps him awake. His room is dark. This is no tavern. The building shakes. A rumble and a groan of wood and stone precedes the screams, high pitched and desperate. He rushes from his room, more from curiosity than bravery. The floor to Andry's room has caved in along with part of the interior wall. Shin can see no sign of her.

The air is filled with a strange scent. A mixture of chemicals and magic that burns at Shin's snout. He can hear the deep desperate curses of Gore, full of emotion he's never heard from the Warforged before. Shiv sees Cricket rush from his room and without a moment's hesitation, turn and yell. "Watch over the little one before rushing down the stairs.

The Goblin must mean Coco, who is also out of his room, his expression terrified, on the verge of tears. Shiv runs over to him. He is unharmed. But what if Tinker or Andry are less lucky. Coco might be needed.

"Come, Coco. Stay with me," Shiv says, hoping the tremor in his voice isn't too noticeable.

They make their way downstairs. Gore is trapped beneath the rubble from the workshop where the interior walls look to have been blown out. Everything in the room is pushed to the edges, broken or shattered to some degree or another. Two bodies Shin doesn't recognize are splattered against the wall nearest the door. Inside the ruined workshop is the unmistakable figure of Tinker, his body mangled and motionless.