Spike sighs and makes sure Narolin knows by his look that the Druid is tired of talking with the Ranger already. "Hey moustache, you want to talk to me, at least look at me. The coat is warm, fuzzy and none of your business. The rotund wizard back there trying to eat me is already too much." He cocks his head, pointing to Aregano.

"Ah, terribly sorry about that, old chap. I just assumed you were a bear, dontcha know. Honest mistake, wot." He passes a wink to the wizard which he hopes clearly states, "If you do, save me the coat," and not, "So, do you come here often?"

Aregano sputters a bit exasperated...whether that's from being accused of wanting to eat Spike, or from the failure of either of his most recent bolts to hit their targets is hard to say "I only asked if your tail would grow back if you were a lizard...and it fell off. And there's no reason to waste possible food. I'd hardly call that 'trying to eat' you."

Algotin was still whirling his blade, hoping if at least he couldn't make contact with it, he could deter a hit or two from himself. "Well, I doubt all this talk of women, coats, and edible parts is helping us take these things out... Or helping me avoid unwanted mental images," Algotin said. "Either way I would appreciate another strike I didn't see," He said refering to his actual moment of blindness, and not just neglectful battle awareness.

"Swinging your sword like a madman with a big stick is not going to help either, Algotin." Says Spike before a chuckle.

Amidst all this banter is lose the sound of the elemental's soul-shrieaking esteem being wounded as Lucian's snark hits its mark.

Aregano gauges the danger in getting closer to the fray to bring one of his other powers to bear, but decides it looks a bit too bloody up there for his taste. True, he doesn't mind a rare steak, but a "rare" battle seemed a bit much. A blood pudding on the other hand might be nice...maybe there would be enough left over when this was all done. He slurps a bit of drool at the corner of his mouth as he instead fires off another bolt of lightning.

SNAP CRACKLE POP!

Aregano makes the air around the elemental sizzle. Not the elemental, mind you. The air.

The orcs, however, bravely gang up on the elemental!

In a flurry--or blizzard--or avalanche of violence, the orcs have hacked the lonesome elemental to pieces. Many of them are severely injured, and they survey the damage, the frozen eviscerated corpses of their former comrades, and the dwarves sheepishly scurrying away with a world-weariness uncommon among (what you imagine) orcish kind. Silently, they begin putting the camp back together, with a few of them attending tents and fires, a few more piling up their friends' corpses, and the remaining few dragging the orcs back to camp.

Their leader approaches Lucian, and nods, "You mercs fight good. Many more of us die if you not here."

Narolin strides forward. "I say, you, Orc chappy, what's this all about? Bloomin' Revenge of the Iced Treats, eh, wot? Fella can't go 'bout his morning run from bloodhoun-that is, morning stroll without bumpin' into bloomin polaroid bears, evil snowmen, and bloomin' Dwarf-Orc parades, wot!"

Algotin wonders how serious the orcs are about the statement given to Lucian. For the most part though, it is true. Lucian and the new fellow with the 'stache and rapier provided some help. "This was better than the boat ride over here at least..." He did more damage their though, to both enemy and ally alike.

The orc nods at Narolin, though his eyes glitter with suspicion. "We travel back to caves so this man can talk with leader," the orc nods to Lucian. "Dwarves are ours now, we hold for ransom because they take what is ours." He gestures to the piles of slush surrounding the camp. "Elementals attack us because........" he seems to take a long time to piece this thought together. "......because sometimes on your way to dragon gold you step in dragon poo?"

Aregano collects a sample of the "piles of slush" in a vial and puts it in his bag. Whether this is for research, or for a snack later, he doesn't say.

He longingly eyes the bodies of the fallen orcs, imagining the fine jerky they would make, but ultimately decides that the other orcs seem a bit too concerned with burial rites to risk even asking about harvesting a few steaks, or some juicy tenderloins.

He shakes his head sighing. Then a grin breaks across his face. His purple hand appears and dives into his satchel. It pops back out with a book and quickly flips through it to a particular section, which it then holds up for Aregano to read. And so begins Aregano's first research into creating a spell to reduce the sentimentality attached to a given non-living item...like an unfortunate fallen comrade who might be very tasty with a light lemon glaze and some thyme sprinkled over him...if only no one cared about him being eaten.

"I say, jolly good metaphor for an Orc, eh? Perhaps he means that these are lesser versions of what you lot-we plan on facin', eh? Perhaps a frost giant... maybe a white dragon. Or a cryomancer. Gelugon? Flippin primordial..." He trails off, still muttering various ice-themed creatures under his breath, including polar bear. "So, chaps. What are we doing now?"

"Yes, it happens," Algotin replied to the Orc's last line. Then turning to Narolin and his red hair, "Currently trying to do some negotiations with these orcs, and their leaders. And I'm still not sure Lucian, the leader of this group, has the same plans as I do... Or the bear, pug, seel... Or the hungry wizard,"

He almost continued about the half-orc, who had left, and the priest who jumped ship, but refrained. The first was on account of barely knowing the former, and the second was due to it leaving a bad image on the deity his followed, depending on the persons view of course. And having never met their human assassin...

The party takes a long enough rest to get ready, and then begins heading towards the mountains again. The addition of the roguish new member goes unmarked, but maybe that speaks more to the collective oddity of these mercenaries than anything else. Eventually, the mountains loom overhead, and the party passes a small sign announcing they've arrived at the Coastal Spa and Warm Springs. The orcs follow a winding path--not narrow, though; it's wide enough for multiple parties to pass through.

In fact, everything looks kinda spiffy.

The path winds up and into a mountain cave that overlooks a small saltwater grotto. Orcs, dressed in skimpy leathers, frolick in the waters with what look like some younger shushis--like fathers playing in the ocean with their kids, if their kids were a mixed breed of orc and sea monster. The band of orcs disperse, and you follow the lead orc and one of his lackies further into the cave, where you see natural springs and salt baths, well-tended, but empty.

Finally, you reach a small summit and a dais. The orc turns to you and scowls, muttering, "Quiet until I introduce you. Must deal with dwarves first."

He steps forward, and coughs low.

"My lord," the raider orc says. "I brought dwarf prisoners. Here." He jangles the chains binding the dwarves.

What you thought was a boulder on the dais turns out to be the largest, fattest orc you've ever seen. His tusks are tipped in emerald, and a garish rouge cakes his face. His manboobs dangle, and a skirt made of well-tooled leathers dangles well past his knees.

"WHY GRUNTRUDE, WHAT FINE GIFTS YOU HAVE BROUGHT ME-----BUT PUH-LEASE, ARE THE CHAINS NECESSARY?"

Gruntrude, the orcish raider, scowls and nods, removing the chains from the dwarves. They rub their chaffed ribs, and look around. "Whazzit going on," one of them says.

"WELCOME TO MY HUMBLE HOME," the fat orc says. "PLEASE, LET'S NOT RUSH INTO CONFERENCE. GO FORTH, REST, TAKE A BATH. LORD KNOWS YOU DWARVES NEED IT."

The fat orc shoohs them away, and Gruntrude leads them deeper into the cave.

"NOW," the large orc says, addressing the party. He falls back and lands into a chair-boulder. "IT'S RARE TO HAVE GUESTS HERE. DID YOU GET MY PAMPHLETS? ARE YOU HERE FOR THE BATHS?"

The large orc stares at the party and blinks.

Aregano, ever eager to try new sensations, figuratively jumps in ... since physically jumping in would be quite taxing ... "I, for one, would love a bath. Do they come with any snacks or refreshments?"

Seeing yet another opportunity to flex his preferred muscles Lucian steps forwards, giving a overly long bow towards the corpulent orc. As he begins to speak his fingers dance a subtle tune across the strings of his instrument. "I am afraid we are not here to inspect your facilities. Or at least that is not our primary objective - if such a opportunity were to present itself I wouldn't be opposed to such a notion. I'm afraid we're here bearing somewhat more troubling news your... eminence? I'm sorry I am unfamiliar with the term one would use when addressing a man of your position."

The tiefling pauses to allow the orc to answer his question and to allow the lingering threat of 'troubling news' to hang in the air for a moment for dramatic effect before continuing. "You see myself and my companions..." he half turns and extends an arm towards the others before his eyes meet Narolin. "...and this vagabond are here hired originally to kill you on behalf of... some filth-ridden town by the river whose name I have already forgotten. Now you needn't worry - we have no intention of killing you. Such barbarism is beneath men of our standing yes? You see we..." he pauses again glancing over his shoulder to the others. "...or I should I say I believe that this entire situation can be resolved amicably. There is no need for bloodshed after all when we are simply here trying to make the best of the situation we find ourselves in. Wouldn't you agree?"