Iron’s end was one of the largest towns in the Plains, lying close relatively close to its centre. It sat on one of the widest stretches of the Nua River, from which it harvest much of its energy. Surrounding the town were pasture farms and opencast mines in equal quantity. The town itself had a high stone wall surrounding it, with steel gates and steel tipped parapets. The innermost sections of the town housed large domiciles owned by the rich landowners, miners and the few other merchants and upperclass people that lived in the town. Many of these were dwarves, experts in the crafts of mining and metal casting. The town also housed a large orc and human population that seemed to intermingle rather well.
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The group of traveller’s reached the gates of Iron’s End just as night fell on the second day of their journey. Some had spoken much on the day’s travel and others had spoken very little. Shankee, always at the head of the party, leading them to the town he had spoken of, kept his cheery resolve and continued to speak aloud to the others, but mostly to himself.

“Who’s that there?” came an uneducated bellow from above the town’s main gate.

The Farrg stopped in his tracks and shouted back, “Just a group of weary traveller’s friend.”

There was a long pause while the man who passed for a guard thought about what to do. 

“Alri.” He shouted after a while, “No funny business ya ‘ear.”

Within another few moments, the steel cast gates made a great roar of their own before swinging out towards the party. The path immediately beyond was filled with a dozen guards armed with knives and spears, eying the visitors suspiciously. Clearly the town had had its back reared by the recent spat of raids and violence.

The part of town they entered was rather dank. The houses were small, and some were in a state of dire disrepair. It wasn’t exactly a slum but it was for from pleasant. Men and Orcs bustled around on the streets, presumably heading home from the day’s work or to the tavern for more than a scoop of ale. 

“Right. I have business to attend deeper within the city. Get fed, watered and as much as you’ll need to keep yourself going for a fortnight. We’ll meet back here again on the rooster’s call. I’ll have organised mounts for us all by then.
Without further word the old Farrg slipped into the crowd and out of sight.

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As Bawzel awaited the message carrier to return, Mizat and Celabrin appeared of their own accord. They had popped into being in the room with him much to his amusement. ‘They’ve been having fun’ he mused to himself. Then, a few seconds after, the messenger showed up and began splurting a few syllables before he saw Mizat and Celabrin had already arrived. The next thing the elf remembered was being flung back through the door he had just entered.
“Well.” Declared Bawzel to his two aides. “How was it with the orc?”