Krindle was not your typical goblin. Most of his tribe were gnarly, gruff creatures, happy to wallow in the dank cave they called home. Their days were a cycle of scavenging for scraps, squabbling amongst themselves, and the occasional raid on the nearby squirrel village - a rowdy, predictable existence. But Krindle had a curious mind, forever peering out at the world with squinty, mismatched eyes. He wasn't built for battle, small and scrawny compared to even the lowliest grunt. Instead, Krindle had a knack for finding things - an interesting mushroom, a beetle with peculiar markings, a chipped arrowhead glinting in the mud. His pouch was a jumble of trinkets, dismissed as rubbish by others, but treasures to him.