Refugees

The two Qualian's depended on the Orc for protection when things got dicey. Graymahlkyn was fearless, intimidating and always at the front of any fight. Either he or his horse had a problem though. That light cursed stench. Everytime he mounted it would permeate the air for a league. It drew the disgust of the ladies, Hemorrhage and Nahyr, but more importantly, it drew every enemy within a mile. Now don't misunderstand, they wanted him to attract the monsters, just not when he was on his horse.

They had hinted, tried to guide him through the river, cast minor cantrips, nothing seemed to get through to the Orc. He was a warrior after all, not the brightest torch in the village. Nahyr suggested getting him to Ahgram. She new that there, they would be able to buy perfume and cleansing powders. Most importantly though they could meet up with Grimbil. The goblin would be able to use his mind powers to make the Orc take a bath and take his horse to the livery.

That was later. Now they had to get out of this fire blasted forest and through the Infineum Plateau. Then they would be able to rest after their week long sojourn at Evendusk.

They were within shouting distance of Donovan's Roost, or so it seemed, after the long trek. They had finished their evening repast of dried meat and and fig like aukfruit. They had decide to push on to Donovan's, They had their provisions packed, Nahyr took point, using invisibility to scout, Gray was in the middle and Hemo brought up the rear, also with invisibility on. They were proceeding into the canyon toward's Donovan's, when an elemental whirlwind detected Nahyr and began to chase. Nahyr mounted and called to make the run to Donovan's. As Gray mounted that awful smell asualted their senses and scorpions and jackels came running to investigate. Hemo screamed, "Run for Donovan's." Even the whirlwind had turned on the reaking Orc. The guards from Donovan's ran to assist and the fight was short and brutal.

Graymahlkyn wiped his sword on his tunic and lead his horse and his comrades the rest of the way into Donovan's. As the guards chatted with the group, one asked, "What was that light cursed stench? It smells like a mix between rotten cheese and wet worg hair"? Hemo and Nahyr looked at each other, smirked and answered in unison, "The smell of an Orc."

You have got to love horse aggro!

Now to level up Sharptooth until I get Wet Dog I at level 18.

Saunters off to find his quill and parchment...