Dianozia had another Dirty Kobold to settle her stomach. The airship was causing her motion sickness with every turn. She’d never gotten motion sickness before; but, then again, she’d been a monk until a few days earlier. Now she was just another drow refugee of Xendrik, except she had the money to go home.

“You okay, D?” asked the half-elf bard she’d befriended waiting to board. He was nice enough, and knew a fair share of dirty songs and halfling insults, some even Dia didn’t know. She’s always enjoyed upsetting the novice monks by singing a ditty about the giantess and the shivering halfling.

“I’ll be fine,” she grimaced. Maybe she shouldn’t have broken the code of the temple, but curse her innate sense of right and wrong. She’d done the right thing, but her master taught the virtue of neutrality, and said she’d been right, but not in the eyes of the temple. Too bad the only thing Dia hated more than halflings was slavery, even if the slavery was technically legal.

So a kalashtar had zapped her mind so she actually couldn’t be a monk anymore. It had made her a bit smarter, oddly, and no longer having to uphold a strict code of conduct meant she was more charming. She was going home, too, to maybe become one of the lorechanters of her tribe. Or just to tell dirty jokes and sing. She was good with either.

Above deck there was a sudden clatter of action, and someone yelled “Dragon!”

Then the airship cracked apart, and Dia’s world went black.

“Hey, you there!” Dia heard the voice, and the soft sound of surf. “You ain’t undead, are you?”

She opened her eyes to see a damn halfling. She looked down to find herself lying face-down, naked, on a beach among the flotsam of the airship.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mumbled, “Naked with a halfling? This is a joke, right?”

She sat up. “Stop staring,” she snapped at the halfling, “Never seen a naked drow before?”

“It’s not an unpleasant view,” he said, with a grin that faded as he saw the look on Dia’s face. He cleared his throat, “You’ll need, um, a weapon. I’ve got a sword for you up the - a real sword, I’m not trying - oh, kobold balls.”

Dia sighed, “Look, all I want to do is get back to Xendrik. Can you help me with that?”

“Yes, yes. Ol’ Jeets can help you any way you - I should stop talking now, shouldn’t I?”

“Give me the damn sword.”

“I thought you’d never, oh,” and ran up the hill, dodging Dia’s attempt to punt him. And that’s when it hit her - she wasn’t a monk anymore. She should’ve been able to hit the dirty halfling. She found a dry piece of sail and tied it into a makeshift dress and followed Jeets up.

“I found a few weapons that washed up, take your pick.”

Dia settled on a rapier - she knew how to use one, if badly. Jeets - she supposed the halfling deserved a name - shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes?” she asked, slightly more exasperated than she meant.

“Since I helped you out, could you do me a favor - not that kind! My friend Celimas is waiting in the cave ahead, could you go up there and let her know Talbron,” He indicated a warforged standing nearby “And me will be there, quick as a cat?”

“I can’t imagine why she’d have gone ahead and missed your charming company.”

“Neither can I, but no accounting for taste,” Jeets smiled as the warforged cast a gaze at him, “Ah, Talbron, that was sarcasm wasn’t it?” The warforged nodded.

“I’ll lead you to the cave. What is your name?”

“Dianozia. Pleasure to meet you.”

“It refreshes me to see someone accepting of warforged.”

Dia shrugged, “You’re not a damn halfling.”

Something like the image of a smile passed over the warforged’s expression, even if it didn’t change itself. “Come, Celimas awaits.”