It was a normal day in Shallybrook. The hin were out and about, farming, fishing, swimming, picnicking, slinging, some even magicking.
A cool summer breeze rolled down the mountain side, leaves moving in a slow dance with a mesmerizing sound.
From the Hin Fist Monastary, a short elderly halfling man slowly made his way out of the monastery’s shadow. With hands clasped behind his back, he gazed across the grave and burrows… briefly settling on the table outside of the Goldenmaiden Inn. “Hee-hee-hee…”
Quickly making her way out of Mystra’s Grove… an elderly wisp of a hin woman shuffled with great expediency with bags of scrolls and magical trinkets in tow. She would occasionally double back to pick up scrolls that fell.
Just outside of town, through the underpass in the snow… a rather tall and well armored halfling rested her foot on the corpse of a frost giant as she pulled her short sword out of its ankle. The warrior grunted as she gazed up towards the pass that led to Shallybrook. She removed her plumed helm and let her long grey hair catch the wind.
Who were these elderly hin… and what were they planning?
The town Sheriff would catch sight of the old hin by the Monastary… then sighed to himself as he smacked his forehead.