Regardless of whether or not you live in Whiterush, you have received correspondence from Zolin Quinn regarding an "orc problem" that he has been having. He requested that you all meet outside the Custom House at 3pm.
The building is newly erected. Its fresh red paint, expensive lattice-work, and hanging white sign reading “Customs House” all mark it as out of place among its run-down neighbors.
Upon entering, you see that the interior of this large offi ce is dim and cluttered. A wide desk cuts the room in half. Beyond the desk, cubbyholes line the walls and from each cubby a sheaf of rolled parchment pokes out. A handsome man with emerald green eyes, a well groomed moustache and goatee, and dressed in a finely cut gentleman’s cape and rich royal blue tunic leans across the desk on clenched fi sts glittering with rings. One of the rings is made from a large ruby with a “Q” cut into it. The man is in the middle of berating an old, ink-stained halfling whose large crooked nose supports a wine-bottle thick pair of glass spectacles. Listen Leglow, sighs the richly dressed man, obviously exasperated, I don’t care what it used to be, now it’s— He breaks off as he spots you in the doorway. Oh. Hello there. Do come in! I hope you’re enjoying our little town by the river? I can’t thank you enough for coming so quickly. He gestures to the halfling without deigning to look at him: Leglow, we’ll finish this later, I have important guests…
Now, my esteemed guests, my name is Zolin Quinn. I'm sure you recognize me as the man who offered you a job. You see, we have a bit of a problem in town with orcs. They've been ransacking my caravans and, quite frankly, destroying the economy of this fine town. Now, I know I'm a little new here, but I consider myself part of Whiterush, especially sinc emy daughter is marrying the baron's son. Now, I am willing to pay each of you 500gp to help me take care of the orcs. I need you to accompany a dummy caravan out of town with my men, and when the orcs attack - and this is important - chase them back to wherever they're coming from and deal with the problem at the root. I thank you in advance.
Abdul made a slight bow to their host. For this meeting he had dressed in his full martial regalia - armor and weapons.
"I am Sir Al'Yemeni of the Shield. It is my pleasure to serve the Baron Eszterhazy, and it is at his esteemed mother's request that I offer my service to you for it is her great desire that nothing impede the upcoming wedding."
Abdul knew full well that the old lady was motivated less by romance and more by the desire to see Lord Breldin, a trusted ally of the Eszterhazys, on a more secure financial footing. Evidently marriage to this commoner's daughter was the means to this end.
"You're offer of pay is generous, but it is unnecessary in my case. I offer you my sword freely, as a token of the Eszterhazy's esteem."
Nor would I stain my honor by letting myself be seen as an errand-boy of a common merchant. No matter the wealth you flaunt like a vulgar doxy. He was careful to keep these thoughts from his expression as he offered a slight bow again to indicate he was done speaking.
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A man dressed in Clean clothes, not the fine kind of clothes you would see normally at fancy parties, Definitely not the type who would normally hob nob with richer folks walks in, carring what looks to be a strange looking doll in his pocket.
Greetings Mr Quinn, Its a pleasure to finally meet you face to face. Its nice nice to meet a man moving up in the town. My name is Garvin. I am happy to help you out. Extending his hand to shake hands with Zolin.
Looking at Abdul Greetings Sir al..in..mei, right? Pleased to meet your acquaintance.
Looking back at Zolin Orcs you say, pests they are, I'd be happy to help you rid of them.
"Greetings Sir al..in..mei, right? Pleased to meet your acquaintance."
Abdul didn't bother to correct the pronunciation, he was used to it, and returned the greeting with a polite nod. As the man spoke on, the cavalier sized him up. He was taller than Abdul (almost all these northerners were). Well-dressed and well-spoken. Clearly not under arms with nothing but a dagger on his person. Quinn must have hired him for other reasons than to wield a weapon, and the merchant, money-grubber that he was, was no fool. Whatever skills this Mr. Garvin was bringing to the table, they would be doubtless potent.
Following the Whiterush River up from the south Vermathus comes into town from River Road.. Preferring to keep to himself he is almost immediately approached by an errand boy claiming Zolin Quinn wished to hire him for his blade and tracking services.. He is asked to come to the Customs House by 3pm.. "Quinn.. What an Ass Hat.. Oh well he pays well so ill at least see what this is all about.." "Run along boy and tell your man ill be there.." After doing some quick shopping Vermathus makes his way over to the meeting spot..
As the door opens you notice an elf enter.. Wearing dark green and browns, his chain shirt dyed black, the elf is obviously some sort of woodies ranger type.. "Afternoon gents.. Heard a rumor you needed a good blade and a tracker.. Whats the job details?" After hearing the details you all see the elfs mood darken.. "Ill help you track and slay the Orcs.. To the last one they'll die.. I want 750 though.. Tieing up with one or two isn't an issue, wiping out a whole clan is.. 750 or you can find a different tracker.."
He looks to the other two humans.. "I suppose he's hired you all as well for this little swaray.. Names Vermathus Silverleaf, well met.."
Names Vermathus Silverleaf, well met..
"Abdul Al'Yemeni." he responded to the elf with the slightest of nods. Unruly, impulsive, and undisciplined. Good qualities for a companion for a night's revels, but not so desirable in a fighting man. Still, he looked every inch the tracker he purported to be. Al'Yemeni decided to withhold his judgement until he saw the elf in action.
"Master Quinn, as I have said I seek no recompense for my service. Perhaps you could divide the money among my comrades. I should hate that even one be less compensated than the others and feel his or her efforts undervalued."
Whoa! You want 150% of my original offer? And Abdul, so generous! What an eclectic mix of adventurers. Hmmm. A cunning negotiator, you are, Vermathus. Very well, I have no other choice. Those filthy brutes must go. 750 a piece, it is. As for you, Abdul, your money is still on the table, although I can't make you take it.
Quinn pulls a small, ceremonial dagger from his sleeve and nicks his palm with it, saying Where I come from, this is how we "seal the deal." The idea is that the dagger will come for the rest of you if you go back on your promise. Of course, the empty purses will probably call you back, too.
He hold out the dagger to Abdul. My esteemed Sir, would you do me the honor of drawing a drop of blood?
Abdul hesitated a moment. As a knight, he should be offended that his word was not being taken as his bond; but customs differ, this he knew well-enough, and in the end he too traced a thin line across his palm. He passed the dagger to the elf and said to Quinn, "As for the money, please good sir, distribute it to the widows and orphans of any that have fallen in these orc attacks. Is it possible to speak to the survivors? It would be good to know our enemy's tactics."
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Master Quinn can you tell us any more about these attacks? How many can we expect, do they attack, and kill everyone or just rob and leave? Any Information on who their leader might be? Or on why all off a sudden these attacks have begun? sorry for so many questions but the military spirits i talk to...I mean men usually enforce the idea of getting most knowledge in advance as possible Says Garvin
Turning towards Vermathus extending his hand Garvin here.
A brawny dwarf, whose rune-covered armor peeks out behind her worn leather apron, seizes the dagger roughly when it is passed to her and jabs her horny palm forcefully with it. "Agna Toragsdottir am I. Kill those gods-damned dwarf-foes, I certainly will. So swear I by Torag and by Kaglemros, his hammer."
Vermathus eyes the dwarf as she enters the tent.. "Should have known a stunted one would be coming along.." Taking the dagger from Abdul he will knick his palm, giving his oath.. "Young races and their rituals.. I'll never understand them.." "I am ready as well.."
Who knows why they've decided to start attacking us now? Probably just some brutish new leader who feels the need to compensate for something, if you know what I mean. Quinn starts to wink at Abdul, thinks better of it, and directs his gesture to Agna instead. The look on his face tells you that he hadn't thought that joke through before blurting it out. As for tactics, the orcs favor ambush, but that's all I know. Ask around town if you want to know more. When you join my fake caravan, my Captain will fill you in on the details.
"Ill just be waiting at the caravan if yall wish to ask questions.. The townsfolk don't like me to well around here.. No idea why.." With that he headsout towards the fake caravan..
He announces himself with a flourish.
I'm Cireth Aldwulf, sorcerer extraordinaire at your service He sounds very sure of himself and makes a couple of harmless sparks appear from his hands . I'd be more then happy to assist with this orc problem. If coin happens to come by way then who am I to refuse such a generous offer.
You also seem to have another matter on your mind Mr. Quinn. Perhaps you would care to share and we can solve two problems at the same time? Efficiency Yes? Oh, and do not worry, I will not shake you down for more money like our Elfish friend over there. Do not let it be said that Cireth is not generous as well.
Another matter? Well, other than the natural stress of a wedding coming up, I should say this is the one thing on my mind. Of course, with my caravans being shaken down so often, I'm not sure I'll be able to pay off the dowry and the bills. Please, those wretched orcs have to be stopped! My precious daughter's heart is at stake.
Agna snorts. It is obvious Quinn can expect little sympathy from her. "The job I'll do, but not for your sob-story reasons."
Dwarves and Elves, who can understand such folk - pay them no mind. So you a daughter getting married. Ah, that's enough to make one man worry for a lifetime. I will help you Mr. Quinn. I just hope that the companions that you have gathered are less rough in the field then they are at conversation.
After the conversation ends Cireth will then try to find out as much about the Orcs from the locals as he can. Probably going to the local tavern unless Cireth knows of a better place in the area. He will buy drinks for people, if he believes it will loosen tongues.
Cireth manages to rustle up some gossip at the Bargeman’s Back Inn & Saloon. A portly barmaid offers up some information in exchange for a generous tip.
That engagement done gone by way to fast. Hardly 4 months into now, ain't we? Well, I guess that’s young love for you. All that courting must tire the young master out. Brant used to take night rides into the forest, but he stopped shortly after the Quinns arrived. That saucy Jacklyn keeps him busy no doubt! I remember when I was young and beautiful too. All them boys from the river boats were chasin' after me. Oh, I remember one fine summer night, one o' them with just the right amount of breeze flowin' and fine flower smells in the air - you know the ones - well, I had just finished cleaning off my last table...
She rambles on for a solid 5 minutes before wandering off and chatting with some locals.
Abdul went down to the staging area for the caravan, bringing his own mount with him. Hostlers, he knew, were always ready to talk about horses and as time wore on, he sent over to the nearest tavern for a couple bottles of wine...
Garvin makes his way down to the docks and stops by the bargeman's guild. The headmaster, Bart Portman, is is angry with Zolin Quinn, because Zolin will not pay guild rates. First the guy scares off whoever won’t pay him a ‘toll’, and now he refuses to pay a Bargeman’s fair wage! Does
old Lord Fart-Greaves do anything? Sure he does! He marries the rat into the family, that’s what he does!
Abdul finds himself chatting with a fine young woman by the name of Elsa as he makes his way towards the staging area. He finds that she's the proprietor of Elsa's Fine Hunting Apparel. Gambling, that’s how he got ‘em. Lord Greaves couldn't keep a copper if it was nailed to his head…not that I’m suggesting anyone should…gah! What I mean is, he used to make purchases here often, now he just window shops…I may have to close down now that I've lost me best customer. But you're a dear, aren't you? Maybe you'll come by after the wedding? I wouldn't mind seeing you again, especially if you were lookin' to buy. Elsa sends Abdul on his way with a playful wink.
Blood welling on his palm Alwrick grasps Quinn's hand tightly and smiles.
"Don't worry Quinn, we'll get to the bottom of this and make sure everything turns out as it should".
A keen observer would note that the smile didn't quite manage to warm the man's eyes.
With the words said, and the pouch of gold pocketed Alwrick strides out of the room to follow Cireth.
He half listens to the barmaid prattle on all the whilst thinking.
There's something not quite right about that Quinn. No matter. For now we should try and find out what Lord Greaves son used to do in the forest.
In a hushed tone that will not carry beyond the table Alrwick says "Cireth, does it not seem a little odd to you that the Orc lived in peace for many years and shortly after our employer arrives in town they start making trouble?
I think the Baron's son stopping riding may be related somehow. But did he stop riding because something happened, or is something happening because he stopped riding?
Either way I think we should try and speak to the young lords stable man. Maybe he knows where the boy used to ride out to.
What do you think?"
Arriving at the false caravan Vermathus will wait till everyone esle asembles.. He looks to the captain.. "SO Quinn tells me you have some more infomation about our task?"
Cireth nods and thinks it over.
I'm not sure I'd never trust a full-blooded orc to be peaceful, but the timing of the matter is certainly suspicious. Talking to a trustworthy stable-hand would be a good idea. Besides, apart from scouts who knows more about what goes on in the countryside than one who takes care of the horses.
Cireth and Alwrick quickly determine that everyone knows about Brant Greaves' excursions, which used to happen about 3 times a week, but no one, not even the stable hand can tell you where he went. Most folks assume it was just a pleasant time to get away from town.
Vermathus is met by a wiry, straight-backed man who appears to be in charge of Quinn's combat forces. He's obviously not pleased with the adventurers' arrival in his domain. Im only going to explain the plan once, so I'll wait until your friends show up, but know this: you weren't hired because I can't do the job. I have to be present for the wedding to ensure the safety of the lady Quinn and her fiancé, so that's why you've been hired to chase after the orcs. Don't get any ideas that you're better than me.
If Cireth has the time and the opportunity he would like to know the stable hands opinion of Zolin Quinn.
Otherwise he will meet up with the others at the false caravan.
"... I wouldn't mind seeing you again, especially if you were lookin' to buy."
"And I, my good woman, look forward to viewing your wares."
Abdul took his leave with a bow and continued on to the staging area. He asked for the man in charge and was pointed to the one already with Vermathus. As he strode over, the knight caught the tail end of the conversation.
"...so that's why you've been hired to chase after the orcs. Don't get any ideas that you're better than me."
"Heavens forfend we should entertain such an idea, Master.. .?", he cocked an inquisitive eye at the man.
The stablehand says Well, quite frankly, I don't know a thing about the man himself. But I feel like I know everything there is about his daughter. Brant won't shut up about her. He's dumbstruck. It's almost funny how obsessed he is with her. But as for Zolin, all I know is that he's changing things around here. They don't pay me to ask questions, though.
The wiry soldier narrows his eyes at Abdul, seemingly taken aback by the level of formality . You may call me "Captain." That is what the other men in my command address me by. Now, my boys are saying that we're ready. As soon as the rest of you adventurers show up, we'll leave.
Vermathus takes in the captain with a slight sneer on his face.. "Do not worry yourself human.. I am here to slay Orcs and make a bit of gold, not become a permenant fixture in Quinn's pocket.. Nor would i dream of comparing myself to you.. It is beneath me.."
Agna buys some gear in town and tries to find out when the orcs first showed up and what direction the orc tribe immigrated from.
She walks up to the false caravan just in time to hear Vermathus say, "It is beneath me...". She places her hand on her warhammer, glares up at him, and growls, "Choose your words more carefully next time, pointed-ears." Her eyes sweep the assembled group as she asks, "Everyone is here?"
Watching the dwarf approach.. "Just stating the obvious, no offense Miss Agna.. Now whens this show getting underway.." Looking to Agna.. "Perhaps we should find ourselves a drink while we wait.. Hmm?"
Just as the last of the party arrives, Zolin bounds over to the staging grounds. Perfect! I'm glad you've all made it - and well-stocked I hope. The wares would be better if not for those orcs. Any way, Zolin pauses at the back of the third of three wagons, its freight hold open. In here, please. No time to waste. It’ll be a bit stuffy, but not for long! Zolin steps aside as a Quinn retainer clambers up and vanishes into the shadowy interior.
The Captain marches up to the front wagon and jumps on.
Vermathus steps up into the wagon and takes a seat..
What a stuffy wagon
Cireth murmers a quick spell Prestidigitation - and cleans the area where he will sit and uses it to chill the air to make it slightly more bearable.
The nasty, flatulent reek of half digested eggs floods the cloying container. A particularly fat henchman pulls his wet finger from his nose, flicks it at the wall, and glares at Cireth. What? Too good to sit on some dirt? He mutters under his breath Prissy, good for nothing hired help.
Cireth is insulted. And you reek so much that your stench alone will draw in the orcs. Do not forget that we were brought here to do what you apparently can not
Cireth, while he is fairly sure he could incinerate the man on the spot will do a couple more Prestidigitation tricks - a small spark of fire in his hands, remove the foul odor and turn the man's hair pink. The odor and color change will only last an hour, but a temporary relief is better then none. The hair color change won't be mentioned so unless someone points it out to him or he looks into a mirror he shouldn't know precisely what was done.
The fat goon scoots away from Cireth and shuts up. I ain't lookin' for trouble. The other henchman in the cart, who happens to be comically thin, snickers at the new hairdo, but deems it prudent to stay quiet for now.
Alwric looks distinctly uncomfortable cooped up in the back of the wagon. He barely even cracks a smile at Cireth's antics.
Several times he looks as if he's going to speak, eventually he growls "How much longer?"
Looking around Vermathus scowls at the smelly henchmen.. "Do you think it possible to keep your bodily gases under control for the trip?" Looking to Alwrick.. "I don't think we've left yet so i would guess we're not there yet.." He leans back against the wagon and lets a deep sigh.. "City folk.. Oh how they annoy me.."
Abdul peered into the back of the wagon at his new companions. "Is it wise for you to all be in there? I should think the sharp eyes of Master Silverleaf best serve us riding up with the driver to spot signs of trouble."
"And I fight best from the saddle. I will trail the caravan by a short distance. At the first sound of trouble I can move up and ambush our ambushers, as it were."
With those words, he leapt into the saddle of his waiting mount.
"Anything sounds better than sitting in here.. Great idea! Ill ride upfront.."
Cireth lets out a sigh
I believe the idea is that the caravan looks as undefended as possible. Lets not have too many people outside. Still a few additional sets of eyes might be a good idea.
"If Master Silverleaf keeps his weapons out of sight, he appears to be just another drover. I'll stay out of sight as best I can." Abdul reached into his saddlebag and drew out a signal horn. He offered it to Cireth, "Use this if need be."
The Captain nods with a frown. Very well. You two shall sit out. Elf, you can sit with the driver atop the last wagon with your friends in it. I will take the first seat. Just make sure your weapons are hidden. I don't need you hired help ruining this.
Vermathus will store his blade and bow/arrows within short reach, underneath the drivers seat.. "Just a question, but we are to let some Orcs run correct? So that we can track them to their lair? Or do you wish to slay them all and follow the tracks made back to the lair.. The scond plan might get us the jump on the lair, but could make it more difficult to track.. Not as fresh of tracks and all, ntm they'll be running.. That makes a deeper, more defined footprint.."