Orun trudged up the path leading to Griffonwatch Keep, each step of his accompanied by the rhythmic clinking of armour. He shifted his considerable weight to the morningstar in his right hand so that each clink was accompanied by a heavy thud as well. The sun was shining and the sky was clear, but he kept the hood of his grey robes up, not wishing to attract any unnecessary attention. Up ahead, he could see the gates of the keep, as well as the defenders in their polished armour questioning a man, a traveller by the looks of him. 

Behind the man, a colourful wagon was pulling up with a squeak; another traveller, perhaps? Nay, not travellers, they had to be adventurers. Why else would they come at such a time? The Harmach, the title the local ruler fancied, had been clear – on the seventh day after his summons, he would await adventurers at noon within his castle. That is what had brought Orun to this town and by the looks of it, he wasn't the only one. Whatever the case, he would find out soon enough.
 
A few minutes later, Orun found himself before the gates and the contingent of guards set to watch over them. He strode up to them with confidence and pulled back his hood, revealing his orcish features. What followed next was expected, but there was no way to avoid it, especially not in these towns that were constantly under threat from his bestial cousins. 

As if by an unheard command, all the guards reached for their swords, narrowing their eyes at him. On the walls, he could see the crossbowmen taking aim. Whatever else their leader had been preoccupied with before his arrival was quickly brushed aside. With his hand still on the hilt of his sword, he approached Orun.

“What fell business brought you here, beast? Speak quickly, before I order my men to cut you down!” 

Orun looked down at the small human, who held his ground with the confidence of someone who had seen many a battle. His reaction mirrored the ones of the locals back in Hulburg. Orcs were deeply hated here and for good reason, Orun couldn’t fault these people. Of course, that meant that despite his generous offering to the innkeeper he had only managed to secure a dirty stall in the stables for himself. Still, better that than a cell in the dungeons or worse…

The orc tapped his breastplate, where Kelemvor’s scales were engraved for all to see. When he spoke there was no hesitation or fear in his voice. If he was to die here, then so be it, but he knew that his God would not let it come to pass. 

“I have come to answer your lord’s summons.” He declared in a deep, gruff voice. “Do not seek to bar my way, for I come here on The Great Guide’s behalf.”