The Sorcerer-King's Quarries

Tharizek eyes the screeching kobold warrior before flashing him a grin. "There shall be plenty of coin for all. Your first payment shall be given once we reach the throne room for your audience with the Sorcerer-King. After that, you may hear him out and potentially take on whatever work he has for you for far greater rewards than a bag of gold." He looks around and, noticing that there are no further questions, speaks once more to the group. "Worry not, I know the palace inside and out. No harm shall befall any of you while you are under my watch. Come now, the Sorcerer-King awaits." Tharizek heads to the large obsidian double doors that make up the entrance to the palace and, as he approaches, they are pushed open by a squad of muscled orcs who, by the look of their garb and faces, are slaves of the dwarven royalty.

Erimeade remained silent but listened to the others respond. As they moved towards the throne room he stayed at the rear of the group. Diplomacy was not hia strong suite. He was content to follow. The dwarf didn't seem like he was being dangerously dishonest amd Erimeade trusted his instincts.

Your group follows Tharizek deep into the heart of the labyrinthine dwarven palace. He leads you through numerous twists and turns, all the while you can hear various demented cries echoing and reverberating throughout the halls. After what feels like an eternity, you arrive before a set of beautifully carved doors made from black wood and encrusted with onyx gems. A pair of guards nod to Tharizek and open the doors on his command. Peering into the room, you all can see a lavish throne as well as the Sorcerer-King himself. The old dwarven lord, whose limbs have been long lost to the curse that ravages the sorcerers of Khazat-Hal, is inside of his so-called Adamantine Frame. The Frame is a large adamantine battle suit, about seven feet tall, which has been magically enchanted to be moved as its user wills. Each of the 'arms' of the Frame ends in a large hammer. "Welcome," The Sorcerer-King's deep voice echoes through the room. "Enter my throne room, adventurers, for I have words that I wish to exchange with you. I am Zharakh Daemonhammer, the Sorcerer-King of Khazat-Hal. And, of course, I know who you all are..." His voice trails off for a moment before he raises one of his Frame's hammers. The hammer swings down, slamming into the leg of the Frame, letting out an exceptionally loud clanging noise that hangs about the air for a few moments. Suddenly, five orcs rush into the room in an orderly line from a door off to the right. As they approach, you can see that they each carry a hefty coin purse. One orc approaches each of you and, wordlessly, extends the coin purse towards you. "Your coin as promised. Hopefully that is enough to engage that thirst for coin you adventuring types always have. Now that you have your coin, will you listen to the job that I would like to offer to you?" The Sorcerer-King takes a few stomping steps towards you all, his Adamantine Frame making a number of buzzing and whirring noises as it works its magic.

Zharakh, seeing that you’ve decided to hear his offer, begins to speak once more. "My people are industrious. We invent, create, and build. Our bloodline gives us some aptitude for the magical arts that isn’t shared with the rest of dwarfkind. The combination of industry and magic that we hold dominion over has led to a number of new breakthroughs in magical experiments. My alchemists and biomancers toil to create all manner of creatures and artifacts to give us an edge over others. However, not all endeavours are successful, and some of these unsuccessful creations manage to escape before being disposed of. My job for you all is to eliminate these failed and escaped experiments. There are three that require erasure from this world. You will be rewarded for each successful slaying. The first of these experiments that must be put down is an orc. Gisharn Illblooded is his name. He was a slave who served as a test subject for some battlefield technology that my alchemists brewed up. In essence, he is equipped with a suit that feeds a magical substance directly into his veins which increases his aggression and strength. According to the words of the guard that survived Gisharn’s escape, he fled to the East towards the Ice-Crowned Peaks, perhaps to subjugate a tribe or horde of orcs within the mountains. Kill him and bring back his head and equipment and you shall each be given an upgrade for your gear. Be it new arms, armor, or an enchantment upon an item of your choice, it shall be done. Do you have any questions about your task?" The Sorcerer-King looks at you all, eagerly awaiting what comes next.

"No, the orc is not magical himself. However, as long as the tank on the back of his suit is active his strength will be augmented. Asides from that he is a mighty specimen of an orc. He stands at perhaps 12 feet tall and is bound in thick muscle - which my alchemists boasted was ‘as strong as any steel’ - and he has much experience in combat. Adventurers of your calibre should have little trouble against him alone, though if he’s reached the mountains he may have been able to gather some followers which may prove to be a problem depending on exactly what he’s managed to conquer."

Erimeade did not bother opening the sack of gold. He grimaced at the thought of carrying it. He grimaced more at the thought of a 12 foot tall orc...something like that could do alot of damage. He wondered if it was one of these failed experiments that invaded his home forest.. He also did not like the idea of this oversized metal dwarf and his followers tampering with nature...but he held his tongue and kept his face blank. Tracking something that big would not be difficult....killing it was a different matter. Moving in a large group would be cumbersome but advantageous when they caught up with it...and that thought led him to finally speak up and ask,"When did this...orc...escape?"

Zharakh looks at Sabrina and begins to answer her question first. "We do not know exactly where the orc is, but it is likely that he went to the mountains as the mountain orcs are split into dozens upon dozens of different clans and tribes thus he would have ample opportunities to gain status and power amongst his ilk. If you require a guide in the mountains to seek out the hiding places of these brutes then I'd suggest stopping off at Khar-Garom. The dwarves there have frequent clashes with the orcs. Also, if it helps, Gisharn was from a tribe known as the 'Mountain Cleavers.' Hopefully that is enough to give you an extra lead on him."
The Sorcerer-King then glances over to Erimeade. "The orc escaped approximately one week ago so he'll have covered a decent amount of ground by now. It's likely that he may already be at the mountains if that is indeed where he fled to.