"Calm yourself tiefling, I was merely wondering if there had been any local reports or rumours of anything..out of the ordinary that is all?"

"A dragonborns gold is as good as anyones, and being paid to potentially unearth arcane secrets.... Well, that's music to my ears"

“Forgotten knowledge, that’s all I need. When do we leave ? Do you have horses ?”

"No, not yet, but we might be able to... get some," Zaphael says, standing, a wicked grin on his face.

"I told you, Zaphael, blackmail is illegal here," Suuroth replies, sighing a bit as he clenches his snout (as though trying to relieve pressure).

"Wasn't thinking about that," Zaphael says, walking toward the other side of the room and promptly turning, "I just remembered there was a small orc encampment in the woods outside of town, and I'm pretty sure there was a horse or two with them. If we could kill the orcs, we can score a couple of horses, and if we bring the heads, we can get a reward, and then we can have a happy little life gallivanting through the big wide world!"

As he finishes off his explanation, he stretches his arms out and spreads them open, as though opening a door to a grand new realm.

Theldain's face suddenly hardens at the mention of the orcs.

"Where abouts is this encampment you speak of? Is it far? We should purge the filth and recover those obviously stolen horses for our own lawful use..."

"No, it isn't," Zaphael raises an eyebrow, his grin seeming a tad bit malicious now, "I can take you to it if need be."

Travyn meticulously checks his pockets and his bag.  Once that he confirmed that everything is in order, he replies to Zaphael: "I think I am ready to go, show us the way. Adventure, here I come !"
He jumps up from his chair, readjusts his cloak and shows his open palm to the dragonborn: " I will take the 5gp now if you don't mind."

Theldain picks up his worn metal shield, straps it to his arm and stands ready to move.

"You have your guards Suuroth. Now let's go kill some Orc!"

He turns to leave the room, then turns his head to Travyn whilst pulling his woollen hood up over his head.

"Grab mine too gnome, I'll meet you downstairs"

With that, he walks out of the door and disappears down the stairs.

Suuroth, with a subtle motion of his hand, manifests three small pouches of coins in his hand. He hands one to each of the three of you and begins to walk toward the door, Zaphael stepping ahead and holding open the door. As you walk out the rain seems to have stopped, and the sun glints coldly through the clouds on the obsidian shards lining the town. Zaphael, a spring in his step, prances onward down the street.

Winter, following closely, looks around at their surroundings with an expression of excitement. They try to take everything in at once, their eager anticipation of the adventure ahead evident on their face.

As they do so, they keep their distance from Zaphael.

Theldain falls into step next to winter, pulling his hood down so he can feel the sun on his face.

He nods his head towards Zaphael.

"Well, he seems to be happy seeing as we might be heading to our deaths...."

"Death there may be, but it sure won't be me! Or you, I guess I should say," Zaphael says, listening in on your conversation.

"Hmmm I like your thinking Zaphael, how far out is this camp of orc scum?"

Theldain's hands reflexively move towards the pair of handaxes on his belt when he mentions the word orc...

Zaphael sees you do this, and shrugs. "It's a little ways off the edge of town," he says, tilting and twirling about whimsically. "You'll know it when you see, smell, hear, or maybe, if you're into that sort of thing, taste it."

Suuroth is trudging along behind the group, obviously not interested in the current prospect.

A smile creeps across Theldain's face.

"Your a strange fellow Zaphael... But lead on to this encampment and maybe I'll forgive you..."

"I guess," he says tilting his head back far enough that he can see you. You continue walking for some time until you get to the encampment. It's a filthy place, and Zaphael was right about being able to perceive it in other ways before seeing it. A foul miasma seems to drift through the camp, and the sound of orcs yelling and chanting creates a second, subtler fume. You come closer, just hiding within the foliage, to find the sickening blight of the orcs gathered around in the waning light of the afternoon, fighting for sport and roaring with delight as they play their bloody games.

"Very well, what's the plan?"

OOC: How many Orcs can we see ? Do you have a kinda of a map ? :)

"I thought you were doing that," Zaphael whispers. He turns to face you and leans back into one of the trees.

On the matter of a map, the camp is simple enough that it really doesn't need one. It's a circle of tents with a pit in the middle (acts as a fire pit and small arena). There are three orcs outside right now, but they're unarmed and beating each other up for the fun of it (they're pretty bloodied up, too).

(Oops)

 (So how far away is the camp compared to where we are?)

Travyn whispers: "Well, we have the advantage of surprise. We should use it. Are you ready ?"
He checks one more time that his shield is correctly donned, place his other hand on his alchemist's satchel and ready himself to cast Acid Splash