Alugahn: the City of Butchers. Not the nicest name this small town has. Resting just beyond the forests of Aijur where the orc Il'Tak once lived before his home was enslaved, Alugahn is considered one of the numerous frontier cities of the small continent of Granse. By some definition, it's also the last place for people to safely live; beyond its walls lie the long mountains, planes, and wastes of Granse's unofficially-named Northern Wilds at the northeast corner of the continent. It's a wilderness of adventure with long-lost civilizations that rose and fell.

This wilderness is, some say, where the immortal troll made his mark. His name seldom known while his tales of battle and destruction more famed among historians and seers. No one knows what became of him since the fall of the slave kingdom of Fau'cast; all people believe is that he's still alive somewhere, looking evermore for battles and challenges.

To find the troll is like to trying to find a bogeyman. But Il'Tak needs two things to save his people: power and help. The Northern Wilds can provide both.

The first and hopefully only stop to Alugahn is a thankfully peaceful one. In contrast to its small size, Alugahn's walls are bordered with hardened brick and mortar. Small platforms lie at the top with an octet of guards watching the city up top. The front gate itself, made of hardened wood, is guarded by two soldiers wearing the city's iron breastplates and green cloaks. They only pause you briefly to look at your furs of foxes, rabbits, and the wolf one that makes your hood. Their human faces beneath their half-helms are a mix of curiosity and slight wariness. "Been awhile since we seen an orc from the forest," the left one comments with slight hastiness, not wanting to get into an argument with the hunter. "Head right in, just mind the laws... Oh, and the tavern. Place has been bustlin' with adventurers if you're looking' for a party."

With that, the two let the orc hunter in and the town's fame for butchers become clear. The smell of animal meat and blood almost immediately seeps into his nose with the distant sound of chopping and cutting. The small town is set up with numerous food stores and butchers going about their day selling meat, vegetables, fruits... but mostly meat. Specks of dust and dirt breeze past Il'Tak from the pathways of hardened mud and sand. Plants and flowers are few and far between, matching the slightly barren hills between Aijur and Alugahn.

The city should have a few leads to discover. While Il'Tak may have no stomach to travel with others, the adventurers in the tavern may know some tall tales or stories of the immortal troll or of points of interest to start out. Or, should be care not for talking, he can look for a billboard if Aulgahn happens to have one. Humans supposedly put up papers of gossip and requests all the time. Or, if Il'Tak is in need of supplies, he can check any of the shops for supplies and a potentially talkative shopkeeper that might have talked with a few adventurers in the past.

Il'tak scans the town walls as he approaches Alugahn, making note of the guards and their weaponry. From their vantage point, tracking the movements of a foreigner… or shooting one with a crossbow… would be simplicity itself. The moment that those humans choose to bear their fangs, Il'tak would be trapped and exposed.

Even so, there is no time to scour a vast wilderness in search of myths and heroes.

Il'tak scrutinizes the soldiers as they return the favor, his gaze lingering on their cloaks. What on earth would humans use to produce that shade of green dye? Vegetation out here is sparse and dire maggot blood reeks of death. For that matter, why use green at all? Why not use the browns and golds of the surrounding… Blarsket, they said something.

"Yes..." Il'tak responds, thankful for knowing a smidgen of common, "…Thank you"

Il'tak walks beyond the guards and their gate to find… what the Blarsk is this? This human settlement looks nothing like the open expanses Il'tak's tribe calls home. After staring for several seconds, it dawns upon him that the wall ahead of him is in fact at the wall ahead of him is in fact a tightly packed collection of monstrously large human homes. Where orcs treasured the freedom and mobility granted by their tents, cabins, and caves, humans apparently favor a maze of walls within walls.

On the bright side, this winding layout could help someone hide with ease…

Seeking tales of the immortal troll, it makes sense to seek a feasting hall or similar space. To that end, Il'tak selects a random road and begins winding his way through the town at random, guided only by his sense of smell. All that remains is to plan what he should ask the local skjalds. How does one say "immortal" in common, anyway?

"Where is always-is troll?" Il'tak tests, muttering to himself, "You know no-die troll?"

Something in the pit of Il'tak's stomach tells him that entering the city was a giant mistake...

It is perhaps of... no surprise that Il'Tak receives some awkward looks as he walks down the road; his shoe and sandal-less feet gather dirt under the hard crust of the ground path. Thankfully, they seem to largely mind his own business around him; no screams of terror and no mad dash to the authorities as one would expect. Even if it only late morning now, an orc would be unhappy to spend more than a few hours here.

The orc's sense of smell leads him twisting around several corners with the delicious smell of raw meat from every direction. The slight tint of fresh fruit, however, catches his nose enough to lead him to a large, open marketplace. It's... agonizingly busy; humans wander seemingly senselessly around the open area, chatting amongst themselves and the stallkeepers who have their food and fruits up for sell. How do humans live in such clusterphobic areas covered with dirt roads and dusty winds?

He thankfully need not look within the crowd itself for information. Just over to his left is the knocking of a hammer-on-wood as a human in carpenter gear finishes putting up a piece of paper on a thick, vertical board. Ah, so this is what they call a 'billboard.' What an awkward name. Il'Tak has only heard the word in common, as if it needed a different definition from a board.

The parchment on the board varies in wear and color; plenty of older ones look bent and aged to a dark yellow while others are clear and in yellow color as bright as the sun. Many of them are... quite pointless gossip. The latest goods coming in, some controversy of a butcher stealing meat from their competition, humans relationships recently formed. THIS is how information gets around?

Fortunately, there's two papers which quickly catch the orc's eye.

"Haunted castle?

A group of adventurers recently came by, talking up a storm about the Castle of Lorlim north of here. Apparently the place's been occupied lately. But this ain't like bandits or critters. It's ghosts. GODSDAMN UNDEAD! That one halfling talked up a storm about how all are coming back since the castle fell. A freak o' nature apparently took on the whole place by 'imself eons back an tore it down. Can you believe that?"

"GOBLIN THIEVERY! The grand library in the eastern corner of the Wilds just reported a break in. A group of goblins and animals attacked the place, stealing a large shelving's worth of books and supplies. The Lorekeeper requests that adventurers find time to seek out and return these back to the library. The goblins last reported heading westward.

P.S. I know a shelving's just a drop in an ocean for the library. They got everything about Granse from the last three centuries. But this is still an injustice that must be corrected!"

Both of these papers are clearly written by different people; the first of these seem so poorly-done that it's almost unreadable. But they're both recent based on their unwrinkled and unbent parchment. The castle of Lorlim sounds awfully like a place that once fell to the immortal troll. Perhaps there may be clues, or even a way to communicate with ghosts, if Il'Tak wants to search out the place.

And while goblins are beneath his interest, a grand library storing an untold amount of information sounds fantastically appealing to seek out. It is, however, a devestatingly long journey; Il'Tak will be going across the entire southern area of the Wilds to reach it. The goblins, if they are traveling west, means they can be found significantly quicker. Who knows? They may have stolen a book or two related to the immortal troll. And if not, their stolen goods would make for a painless way of entering the library.

"Excuse me?"

The voice behind Il'Tak is unmistakingly in the Orcish tongue. And yet it's disturbingly soft. Behind him is a young human woman, dressed with a thick green cloak slightly reminiscient of those used by Alugahn's soldiers. Beneath it is a quilted leather armor vest and at her hip is a thin wooden stick almost double the length of her hand... Is that a wand? Is she a sorcerer, wearing armor?

Oh, this must be one of those so-called adventurers who arrived earlier. The woman gives a small smile. "Sorry, first time seeing an orc. I didn't know any ever visited this town." Her voice is quite fluent in the orcish tongue, though a little quiet among the rabbling voices of the marketplace. "My name's Selene. I arrived here just last night. May I ask for your name?" She turns her head slightly, eyeing the wooden board that the orc eyed earlier.

Il'tak can feel his skin crawl as the humans around him watch… not that he'd ever show it. The humans don't deserve that form of satisfaction. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the familiar skies… the only thing familiar in this maze… as his feet shuffle along the road.

When he arrives at the Marketplace, however, Il'tak is forced to mind the crowd as the town switches from abandoned backroads to a veritable sea of people. At least the scent of fresh meat is familiar… mostly. Il'tak can't help but scrunch his nose at the burning scent of salt in the air. What sane being would willingly salt their meat like that, destroying the natural taste and odor?

Barbaric… that's what it is.

Taking a look at a nearby billboard… Il'tak doesn't quite know what to make of it. A couple of posters catch his eye in a heartbeat, if only for the small pictures drawn upon them. A small goblin carrying a few books… and a couple ghosts flying next to a castle. Taking a closer look, Il'tak catches a few select phrases, "ghosts", "godsdamn", "storm", "north", "library", "animals", "east"… enough to pick a direction and kill whatever rests at the end of the path.

Let's think for a moment…

If he finds a ghost, Il'tak would be in a bit of trouble. Goblins are a more manageable—not to mention familiar—threat. Plus, a library would probably hold a good deal of information. To find a legend as soon as possible, Il'tak was willing to turn to books… though he might need a bit of help reading them.

At the sound of another orcish speaker, Il'tak spins around to find… another human.

"I will not be here long" Il'tak assures the stranger. The stranger who speaks good orcish without knowing orcs… "Name is… uh, Tak'il. Tak'il the goblin hunter. I plan to hunt down this gobbling and get back those books. That's… that's what the poster says, right?"

The human wizard doesn't try to challenge the alias and role Il'Tak names himself, but she gives a small expression of amusement while responding in orcish. "Goblin hunter? That's not a common job." She walks forward to the billboard, looking at the paper about the goblin thieves. "Hmm, I read about that. Wish we had time to intercept but we're not going anywhere in that direction." She gives a frown. It's clear that she feels a small ounce of regret for not taking the task. Her eyes then look over at another paper on he billboard, one of the ones Il'Tak passed over. The paper is written in hard common writing, as if the writer pressed hard against the parchment.

Journey to meet the Grand Scholar!

The proclaimed grand scholar of Granse, Erudeen, has arrived at the settlement of Varmuda in the center of the Northern Wilds. Erudeen's knowledge of the Kingdoms of Amarria and Underwuldt are beyond compare! Anyone who wishes to meet with him is free to travel with a wizard and knight from Amarria. Please leave your name here and meet here tomorrow!

The paper does not have any additional names listed, prompting Selene's look of disappointment. While Erudeen is an unknown name, the united human and elven kingdom of Amarria and the dwarven kingdom of Underwuldt make up the majority of the continent besides the Northern Wilds and Granse's forests. Not that they're of any apparent relevance to Il'Tak. The orcish stories about the two kingdoms are more material, of the orcs waging skirmishes and negotiations. If there are stories of the immortal troll within those two kingdoms, no one has yet to tell any.

A human male voice in common speaks from behind the two. "Has anyone signed up?" The figure is a man in chainmail armor with leather guards overtop. His helm, slightly dent from wear and tear, is held at his side. The man himself is a middle-aged person of short blonde hair and wrinkled skin. His lack of facial hair reveals his uneasy expression. His eyes only briefly look at Il'Tak before turning toward the wizard. "No Farhan, no one," Selene responds with a sigh. "We'll have to go on our own." The knight shakes his head in unsurprised disappointment. "Varmuda is a small place in the middle of nowhere. No one would want to go."

Another figure walks out from the building behind them. This time it's a dwarf. His haggard, rough grey beard slumps from under his chin; a bulky steel helmet covers his head without any sign of hair. The dwarf somehow manages to wear full plate armor without any sign of being uncomfortable. How DO such blasted creatures get around in such wear? And most notably, under the helmet, the dwarf wears a bandanna covering the upper left part of his face, including the eye. The dwarf takes one look at the orc hunter and gives him an unnerving, long-yet-stoic look before turning and walking north.

Both Selene and Farhan may no mind to the dwarf as they gather their bearings. "Alright, guess we should be off," Selene says to perk herself up. "Afternoon will be here soon and we don't want to travel at night." She heaves a pack of fear