"Bah, looks like I'll be meeting up with the halfling and the warlock after all, then"

Grindal heads to the Townmaster's Hall.

Trombin waves at Grindal as he joins them outside the hall and gestures to enter together. 

"Any word on Gundren, Grindal?" He asks as they enter the hall.

The townmasters hall is rustically elegant, with thick, dark red carpeting and a polished wooden desk, behind which sits a tiny bespectacled man. Tapestries line the walls, depicting valiant heroes and regal wizards fighting orcs and dragons. 

"How may I assist you?" Inquires the short clerk.

"Excuse me!" He squeaks again. "Are you looking for something in particular?"

"*Ahem* sorry my good man, I was admiring your fine desk! We've heard you have an orc problem? For the right fee my friends and I would like to help you with that."

Trombin smiles and runs his hand along the elegant desk he's been admiring for, admittedly, far too long.

"Only that Gundren ain't here," Grindal explains to the halfling before walking in.

"Bah, I ain't complainin' about killin' no orcs, mind ye, but there's a dwarf missing and I'm duty bound to find him!" he grumbles.

"Well, as to the Gundren fellow, I cannot help, but I can see if the townmaster is free for an audience." 

He bustles up a flight of wooden stairs to the second level. After a minute or two, he returns. 

"You are in luck, my friends. The townmaster is currently free. You will find him in the second office to the left." He nods curtly to you and resumes his work.

Behind the desk in the indicated room sits a rather fat man with a pale, sweaty face. "Welcome my friends! I hear you are interested in making some money?" He slides toward you a yellowed piece of parchment. It reads: Orcs in Wyvern Tor! Those with a mind to face the orc mence should inquire within. Reward 100 gold pieces.

The bell tower situated behind the towmasters hall begins to toll 9:00 in the morning.

"Come now Grindal, you're not wrong my friend. Perhaps I've been surveying the situation poorly." Trombin says before they head upstairs. "I could agree to forgo this job and go searching for Gundren but why don't we hear the town-master out first? Maybe we can get two birds with one stone?"

He follows the secretaries directions and listens to the sweaty townmasters job description. He pulls Grindal aside.

"What do you think? That's a lot of gold! Let's take the job and we can look for Gundren at the same time. We line our pockets along the way. Hmmm? Do you agree?" He smiles widely, obviously charmed by the reward offered.

Grindal crosses his arms and angrily taps his foot, staring hard at the halfling for a moment.

"Iffen we pass by these orcs I'll kill the lot o' them, don't ye doubt, but a dwarf's life is worth more than 100 gold, ye durned halfling."

He then looks in the direction of the townmaster, asking "Oy, fatty! Where is this Wyvern Tor from here?"

"Ex-excuse me? I am the townmaster!" He stutters. "Watch yourself, dwarf!" He attempts to look intimidating, but at a single glance from Grindal, he falters.

"Well, anyway" He says, attempting to regain his composure, "Fifty or so miles northeast of here," He mutters meekly. "Its a prominent crag, looks like a- a crag of death, I suppose." He hurriedly pushes the poster over to you. "I'm a busy man. No reward unless you bring back the heads. I wish you luck"

OOC: Where does that sit in relation to the spot we were ambushed?

"By heads you mean just the skin and skull, right? I hear orc eyes make quite a powerful polymorph potion. And about the reward, it may come in use if Gundren was captured and we need to pay ransom."

The goblin ambush was about ten miles northwest, so sixty miles east of that spot and you find Wyvern Tor.

"Er, lets not get gruesome." Says the man, looking uncomfortable. I simply need a token to prove that you defeated the orcs. Do whatever you see fit, but please, nothing messy."

Grindal slams his fists on the desk and glares at the townmaster.

"Ye think there's a clean way ta kill an orc, fatty?"

He grabs the poster, slightly crumpling it in the process, and storms out of the room.

"We save the dwarf first, halfling. We make sure he's safe and then we'll kill yer orcs and get yer gold."

"Sounds good to me! Pipes Trombin, trotting after him. I'll follow your lead, where to first?"

He manages to grab the poster from Grindal and fold it neatly before tucking it into his pack.

"Bah, I'm a soldier not a thinker! But I figure that part o' the trail we were ambushed is a good start. Those durned goblins came from somewhere."

Trying to figure out something resembling a plan, I ask "What does a crag of death look like, anyway?"

Your wanderings and musings soon bring you back to where you started, the Stonehill Inn. Most of your fellow lodgers are up by this time, and enjoying a hearty breakfast in the common room. The smell of coffee, bacon, and eggs wafts towards you through the windows, thrown open wide to allow in the fresh morning air. People talk, laugh, and argue over their meal, lending a homely air to the scene.

The inn looks pleasant at this hour, but I yearn for the open road and the scorched smell of goblins after an eldritch bolt, so I gather my belongings as fast a possible and prepare to set out.