Sidonia Jort al'Kur

4'11 ½", 36 yrs, 92 lbs.

We wake up, enjoy the B&B experience, and go down to the common room.

A half-orc and an elf are sitting together (imagine!), and some other people, including a guy all in black. We introduced ourselves to the half-orc (named Krog) and the elf (named Stibsmith Silverthorn).

The man in black looks sinister and threatening, so Boink and Krog go over to see him. The man calls Krog a half-breed, technically true but insulting nonetheless. There is a brief moment of tension, then the man gets up and tells them that tonight at Gilmont and Flore there’ll be a religious event, and to be careful if we go.

Some other people come in - 5 armed fellows, one in platemail who call for some A.M. ale. Demand roast and other goodies NOW. They’re bandaged, unkempt and irascible.

I go talk to Platemail, to find out if they’ve been to this religious event. I slather on the old Sidonia charm. He’s pretty impervious to the charm alas… Declaims loudly instead that they’ve wiped out a whole orc scouting party. Posturing and chest-beating imminent. I say “don’t think it was a scouting party”, but I don’t think he’s listening; he invites the rest of our group over.

Right off, he insults Krog. Krog insults him back, and they go at each other outside, a fist fight only (lucky Krog, he’d have been spattered all over the floor else). Stib, shady and slippery fellow, bets on Krog. Then Krog goes down, as the man Stib had been betting with eyes Stib suspiciously. Looks like Stib gambled without having any money to pay if he lost. Oops.

At this point Trax and Boink sidle off. I’m willing to give Stib money to help him out – for now (I’m sure he can get it back somehow in the future, he’s just that kind of guy), but he spends so much time hesitating I too abandon him to his fate.

In the end, all is well, Platemail is all geniality as we gather back inside the inn, said they’d been out looking for action the previous night, and heard about a bunch of orcs. So they headed out of the city on the trail of the orcs.

Trax interjects brightly, “Oh Boink and I can speak Orcish.” Platemail smirks, “Oh Rangers…” Stib mutters “One can always follow the stench…”

Not deterred by our witty commentary, Platemail goes on to tell they found 20 orcs apparently looking for something. These 5 guys killed the 20. Hmm, I wonder, but wisely say nothing.

Boink muses: what were they looking for? Krog wonders what the orcs colours were, apparently they carried shields showing a flaming brand, a mountain clan of orcs. Platemail insists that these orcs are likely scouts for an army, thought the city guard, when they’d returned, was dismissive.

Switching to another topic entirely, we find out that the mage fight we saw yesterday when we arrived at the inn was indeed a competition. That black guy who mentioned the religious event tonight is apparently an experienced mage and hand been staying here for the past 2 Mage’s Day. Always alone.

I ask the innkeeper what he thinks of the event the mage recommended to us – but the innkeeper shrugs, says that it’s Varish’s group, a multi-level religious cult.

So many action options, what’s a group of neophyte adventurers to do?

We decide to pursue the item lost job posting, located at 437 Gaphor Blvd. As we head over to Gaphor, we see all kinds of people out on the streets – adventurers, mages, street vendors, nobles and commoners, fireaters and more (of course we do, it’s a big city).

At 437 Gaphor – home of someone obviously very wealthy – Trax suggests I speak for the group. (That Sidonia charm again. Or a convenient way of putting me in the front line of danger.) Once again the charm is useless; our potential employer has a strongly administrative bent, and gives us an appointment for 1:00.

We’re left with three hours to hang about, and decide to go look at another job board, here in the north end of the city. Exactly the same jobs posted here as the one yesterday: item lost, caravan job.

1:00 we return for our appointment and are shown in to a comfortable, luxurious office. The only curious thing about the office is the impressive array of statuettes of carved gods. Otherwise, the walls are lined with encyclopedias, caravan books, etc.

A portly guy comes in, name of Balcon. He’s the wealthy owner of the house, and a major trademaster. It turns out that his lucky Elucidor statue was stolen, in the middle of the night, about a week ago.

“It’s only worth 50 gold pieces,” he says. But it’s terribly important to him, since while he had it, he’s never lost a caravan, made a tremendous profit… since then he has lost caravans, deals have gone sour…

He is willing to pay the incredible sum to each member of a group of adventurers who find it (I think one group has 20 adventurers. We’re far cheaper, I’m sure he’d rather we found it).

Balcon does provide a name of some of his competitors who might benefit from his loss of good fortune. Trax notes the name of Theodor Silverleaf, with whom 2 deals recently went sour. Only two weeks ago, Theodor was royally screwed over a mithril shipment (Theodor’s contact office is 1432 Evergreen Terrace.

We also find out that Zalhag, a fanatical elf artisan, made the Elucidor statuette; he’s a local elf, and Balcan also provides his address.

Stib, our thieving elf, decides to check out the house, to see how the robber got in to the 2nd story bedroom.

After our meeting with Balcon, the group splits up. Me, Boink and Krog head over to Theodor’s address to see if we can brazen our way in by getting a job or charming (me again!) Theodor. We knock, the door opens a mere crack, we’re asked our business, and sent on our way.

The others take off to see the manic elf Zalhag, who proves similarly unhelpful, though at least shows them around the shop…

Thus we decide to go to Gilmont and Flore to check out the religious event (I really hoped there was more to this than just a cult). There’s a speaking platform, torches, all sorts of people, elves and humans milling about. Krog asks someone what’s going – indeed, but a multi-level religious cult.

I still think, but hey, there might be more than meets the eye.

A well-dressed eager faced young man comes up and says, “Do you have a chaperone?” We quickly sidle away. And then the show begins. A luxuriously dressed man ostentatiously dripping with wealth – ah the leather boots! the glorious silks and satins – steps up on the platform. He tells the crowd how our current society doesn’t allow us to fulfill our potential, and that he has the solution…

We don’t stay to hear much more. It’s now dark, mid-evening, a day of promise come to naught. Krog and Boink are keen to follow Platemail and Co.’s example, and head out and find us some orcs. To myself I sigh, thinking, adventure during the day is fun! But at night I’d really much rather hang out and party.

But, off we go, to the east gate, the guards let us through. I’m not reassured by what sounds like a slightly mocking, “Good luck” from them.

On the road for two hours, we then strike out into the fields. An hour later, a smell of rot (could it be Orcs?) guides us to a small road heading south… right to the local dump. Two elves huddle by a fire near the dump. Great job, I’m sure, but I hope adventuring pays off before I find out if true.

The rangers go down to talk to the dumpster guards – one of them, Glak, claims that he saw an orc heading east. Since Glak is dead drunk, who knows what he saw. Krog suggests we go east for an hour just to see.

The rangers – who are ahead – come across a blood-dipped feather, the blood old and dried. It’s an orc ornament.

Guided by the rangers, we follow some tracks, and before you know it, straight east, we come to a rise and over the rise are 5 orcs huddled together 25 feet away. They carry the flaming brand shields.

The rangers kill two of the orcs – a beheading and a de-entrailing. Krog kills another. Two to go, I gird my loins, but lo, the rangers dispose of them too. I loot an orc (figuring Krog got an extra one anyway) but have to split the 5 gps with Krog. Only fair, he DID kill the creature.

Trax – the beheader – decides to take the head to Glack the dumpster guard, to prove his point to the other guy. A nice gesture. Trax also tells them we’re at the Prancing Pony (I don’t know…).

We return to town, it’s almost dawn. At the gates, Trax asks for the head guard, the gate sergeant comes out. She shows the shield with the flaming brand, but the guard takes the shield, and is quite nonchalant about it all – even though it’s rare to see orcs so near. Trax insists that the orc issue be looked into. Guard agrees (we doubt it).

Back to the pub we go. Off to bed, bath, so forth, to rise again at noon.