On this nearly freezing mist-rain grey morning, the merchant ship Southern Girl anchored itself near the coastal ruined city of Troutbeck. The Captain insisted that a handful of passengers and crew were to go ashore using the ship’s dinghies, to scout a proper location to dock.
Two small groups of people eager to set for on dry land were formed: In the first boat was the halfling ranger Darrana Howlcrusher, her dog Grumpus, a swashbuckling elf Ruari Athir, and the bizarre gnome Gazu Zilzu of Jorpip (or ‘Sandy’ as he instructs everyone to refer to him). In the second dinghy was the human 1st mate of the Southern Girl, Em Morkuz, and a tattoo’d half-orc wearing a slave-collar who went by the name, Brubar.
Coming Ashore:
The two boats paddled towards the docks, where they were being spied on by a well-armed human druid and his Honey Badger hiding inside a rotting wooden structure at the docks, peeking through the broken wooden slits in the walls. Quietly behind him, a simply-garbed half-elf monk crept up to notice him. Unafraid, they greeted one another as friends, and watched the nautical parties, together.
The two boats came ashore within earshot of the monk and Druid. Noticing a dog among the passengers, Alaric put his trust in that the animal could only be honest with him, and cast a spell to speak with the riding dog named Grumpus.
Alaric asked the dog politely through the wall, “Are your companions to be trusted?”
Grumpus, who couldn’t remember a person ever speaking to him before, and in surprise perked his ears up and could only grumble out, to the Druid’s ears, “Hey! Whozzat?”
Abruptly interrupting the druid’s conversation with Darrana’s dog, Brubar the half-orc let out a long scream that the nearby recognized was Orcish. He repeated this shouting guttural phrase for several minutes, captivating his audience.
The half-orc’s chant was surely heard throughout half the ruins of Troutbeck. The noise caught the ear of a nearby gnome cleric and his pony, who came closer to investigate. From a separate path, four orcs in leather armor wielding falchions approached the call.
The four orcs seemed to recognize Brubar in some capacity. They weren’t acting overtly hostile, even though there were elves, halflings, and gnomes present. The leader of the four approached Brubar and began what seemed to be a negotiation.
Em Morkuz began whispering to Brubar, and Brubar would only speak Orcish to the orcs in return. There was a dispute over the value in the negotiation, and Brubar seemed visibly upset about it. He pointed at his eyes and in his orcish repeated the name, “Xig”.
Finally the negotiation ended, and suddenly the orc in charge of negotiating grabbed Brubar by the throat and pulled a rope through a ring in his slave-collar. The orcs started walking away, dragging Brubar screaming behind them closely. The poor fool Brubar didn’t understand that the negotiation for the terms of his own sale would not be a pleasant exchange.
Em Markuz quickly walked back to the docks, and began tying one dinghy to the other to take them both back to the Southern Girl.
Watching in dismay, Ya’an Ollis, the monk, shouted to the orc, “I’m afraid I can’t let this happen.”
“Ha! Afraid, YES! You should be!” replied the Orc. The orcs turned their back on their audience, dragging Brubar down the path the Orcs originally came from.
Ya’an quickly walked up behind the orcs, and roundhouse-kicked the smart-mouthed orc to the back of his head. The momentum flipped the orc from his feet; his head smashed the earth with the speed of Ya’ans kick. Blood drained from his ears and he was motionless save for the choking on the blood pooling in his throat.
Brubar, seeing the orc’s hand holding his leash go limp, abruptly stopped his moans of agony, and ran directly towards and past the party, to the docks where he began a new yelp, this time for help from the Southern Girl and Em, rowing away.
The orcs turned on the diverse group of humanoids, and readied their blades while the party prepared their ranged weapons.
The swashbuckler kept his distance, firing two arrows past the orcs, certainly scaring them.
The monk punched another orc in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Darrana slung a bullet into the pig-nose of the same orc. Blood sprayed backwards into his eyes from the impact, and he fell backwards into the wet sand-ridden path.
The gnome cleric, Orvyn SIlvershaper, who had yet to have a conversation with the party, felt it may be Istus’ fate to join this group and aid them in the destruction of these vile Orcs and their desires, readied a bolt in his crossbow, and fired it directly through the lungs of an orc, killing him within seconds.
The druid Alaric, fired an arrow into the shoulder of an orc, then Darrana slung a bullet into his chest, and with a crunching sound caved it in, knocking the air from the orc’s lungs, and he slumped to the ground.
Within seconds, the battle was swiftly decided, and a party of adventurers had worked together to defeat a group of foes.
Brubar was freed, and Ya’an informed him of such. With the promise of regular meals, Brubar was convinced. He rummaged through the corpses and began stripping the horrendous-smelling bloody studded leather from one of the bodies. Ya’an tried to convince Brubar to was the leather in the ocean before donning it, to rid it of its stench. Brubar was absolutely not convinced, and believed that the stench was part of its appeal! Brubar was now wielding a falchion and wearing orc-blood-drenched studded leather armor. If it weren’t for the party hearing his screaming in terror for the past few minutes, he would probably appear intimidating.
The group searched the bodies for answers: what was in store for Brubar? Who is Xig and why was he mentioned in the negotiation? What happened to Ruari’s father and his home city of Troutbeck? What did Istus have in store for Orvyn with these adventurers?
All that was found on the bodies were two gems, which were identified by the group as amethyst and garnet. Alaric did speak to Brubar, though, and asked him about Xig, and what he has to do with any of this.
Brubar replied that it was his Xig bloodline “Mother Father – Father Father!” that allows him to resist the daylight more than orcs are generally willing to bear. He squinted a bit, which may be a bit suspect, but he didn’t seem to be lying.
Something was amiss, the Ruari noticed; the sandy-footed gnome cleric of Fharlanghn, Gazu Zilzu of Jorpip, was no-where to be seen.
Tracks were seen in two directions. Small footprints that were most likely Sandy’s, and those of the dead orcs.
The newly-formed group of adventurers must decide on their next path…
