To fully appreciate the "accomplishments" of the Companions, one must first understand the nature of their quest.  In the earliest days of the campaign, the PCs had come across a long-forgotten underground complex belonging to the Mikskek, an ancient race of beatific spirit and arcane majesty. Nearly eleven centuries past, however, the entire race departed their homeland of Miren and sailed westward into the vast expanse of the Othrovel Ocean, never to return. Why this great Migration took place, or what ultimate fate befell the Mikskek, no living being could say.

     The party finds evidence that there was a frantic search for a single clan of this race, which vanished only months prior to the Migration. The Clan of Kauron was never found, and eventually all memory of the clan and the failed search for them was consumed by the centuries.  But lo!—the Companions learn from a Mikskek beyond the grave that not only is the Clan still alive, but they are still in need of rescue!

    Word of the discovery finds its way to the furry ears of the Rats, the beings created by the House of Light to fill the void left by the Mikskek. One of the Rats, going by the unlikely moniker of Malcolm Quickskitter, asks in his capacity of Serenity of the Scroll (!) if the Companions would be willing to take on this great task, which holds so much promise for the people of Miren yet so little chance of success. Understanding what's at stake, the Companions agree.

     There would be many who would oppose this quest, the Serenity warns...not only the serpentine Vauldraani, the Mikskeks' ancient enemies, but also the mortal legions who serve the House of Darkness. If the mission has any chance at all, Malcolm explains, it will hinge on how well the Companions can keep their big mouths shut—about the quest, about their furry sponsors, about everything.

     And therein lies the rub.

     Taken as a whole, the Troublesome Companions couldn't keep their mouths shut if someone smeared their lips with sovereign glue and clamped their jaws between the beefy mitts of a storm giant. That they succeeded at all is a testament to the power of serendipity, blind luck, and their own magnificent ineptitude...

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