Seems we’ve been upsetting some powerful people – we met a pretty tough assassin on our way out of Sharn to see the woodsy folk. However, he still went down to a few arrows (and pecks from a bloody great bluetit Foreststrider called outa nowhere). Serves him right fer takin’ on the lot of us by hisself without any armour on him.
But then, when we teleported out t’the woods with a few mercs in tow, expecting no more than a party and maybe the hope of some assistance, we find things’ve got all political. Some seer lady claims doomy doom will come if we take this schema off the Orcs, her exact words being something like: “The brutal ones will invade the sacred place; the brutal ones will defile the sacred place; the brutal ones will save the world”. Loada hogswash if ya ask me, but she seems serious about it, an’ the woodsy council took it in kind. Even with all m’friends fancy talkin’, there was no help to be had. Still, I had a cheerful dance with a pretty lady, and that mead they had wasn’ too bad either. An’ if they ain’ helpin’ us, they don’ get a share o’ whatever loot these orcs’ve got, which suits me fine.