** Please read the above authors note**

I come to some time later. The party has thrown together something similar to what I did for Wizard. It looks like midday now. I can’t get a good, angle to turn and look around. They also propped my neck up at an awkward angle, so it’s sore now. I go to speak but my throat is dry so I just make a hoarse grunting noise.

A green head pokes just from out of my range of view over me. Two large bottom incisors poke out of her bottom lip. Her hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail with both sides shaved down to the greenskin underneath. I can see the top of a long tattoo on her neck.

“OI,”

She shouts in a strong voice, that reverbs in my chest.

“Dragon slayer over here is up.”

Her head disappears again, and I hear the shuffling of feet. Guessing she was an orc, but what the fuck is an orc doing here? I see Cleric come into view first. She has a hand sized bruise on the side of her face. Wow I didn’t realize I hit her so hard. She frowns, and gives me an angry glare before storming off. Rogue bends down and unties some ropes. I push off the blanket and sit up. A cool breeze blows onto my midriff the wolves destroyed the front of my clothes. I stand up, and wizard waves her hand. A magical force of energy washes over me, removing dirt, grime, and blood from myself and my clothing. Then she says something in some language I don’t understand, I assume it’s Elven. My clothes knit together, good as new.

I look around. The party seemed to have picked up another group of misfits. The orc woman stands at the front, she is taller than me so maybe six foot. She wears a leather bodice, and leather gauntlets that go all the way up to the shoulder. The gauntlets are a rusty colour, and sinister looking, studded with sharp pieces of metal on the knuckles. They fasten into something almost like a short leather shawl that goes over her head and protects her upper back, and neck. She’s well toned, and her muscles are very defined. Not like Fighter, or any of the guards. More like one of those sports illustrated photos. A number of different rings rest on her finger. They are mostly plain bands made of different materials and with different designs. Over the gauntlets on her wrists are two sets of bracers. Made with teeth that look like orc tusks.

Behind the woman stands a group of orcs, five men and three women. The women all have that sam kind of shawl that the woman in front does, but all the men except one are bare chested. The last guy much shorter than the others standing at just barely main orc ladies height. While the other guys are almost seven feet tall. Even the orc women are taller at around six and a half feet. All the orcs except the short orc male, and the woman in front are missing their right tusk.

I walk up to the orc woman in front, and stick my hand out for a handshake. The other orcs tense up, and the woman raises her eyebrows. She takes it in stride and grins. She shakes my hand firmly.

“I’m Jonathan Johnson. It seems that I need to learn more about how to interact with people. I meant no offense.”

She smiles, but keeps a steady hold on my hand.

“I am Thelia. I am a representative sent by the clans to talk to the Dragon slayer.”

She bends slightly, and pulls me close to her chest. She whispers into my ear.

“Rotten tusks between the dwarves and the orcs. Punching the other shoulder is an orc greeting.”

She pulls back her fist and with a devilish glint in her eye slams it into my shoulder. This motherfucker. I pull back my own fist, and wail her in the shoulder. Her eyes light up.

“This one's got the orc touch.”

She lets out a hardy laugh, and slaps me on the shoulder with more force than she needed to. I noticing something now though. Only Thelia and the shorter male orc have five fingers, the others have four. Not like they’ve been cut off, just they have no pinky finger. The fingers they do have are thicker than normal. Thelia wraps an arm around my shoulder.

“So Dragonslayer, I’ve met your friends, come meet my escort. She points out the largest of the Orcs,

“This is Ralak, Yotire, Grun, Kal,”

She lists the males off in order of height, then moves onto the the females.

“Relic, Farley, Sentusa, and finally Thog. He’s still a kid, but the clan wanted him to see the world a little.”

She points out the short Orc last.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.”

I get some grunts in response, my type of people.

“You’ve met my students, but I will introduce them again.

This is Fighter, Rogue, Cleric, and Wizard.”

Thelia gives me an odd look.

“Why the strange nicknames?”

She asks. I smile,

“It represents their abilities, a classification of how they fight, cast spells, or function in combat. From a mechanics perspective. Like calling a soldier by rank.”

She nods.

“It seems useful, are there more of these classifications?”

I nod,

“Yes, plenty.”

I grab my Handy Haversack, thinking of one of the character sheets. I reach in, and lift the piece of paper sitting on top of the other gear. I smile, that smile you give when you’ve successfully convinced a friends to watch a show, or play a game.

“Here, this is what is known as a stat sheet, or character sheet. You fill out information on yourself, or others into the relevant spots. Good to keep track of yourself, and your abilities.”

She looks at the sheet, reading it intently.

“What an interesting idea, I will bring this idea to the clan.”

I wave a hand,

“Feel free to keep the sheet. We can discuss this more as we walk.”

We begin the final leg of the journey. We might need to camp out for one more night, but I’m not bothered. I explain the various points on the character sheet to Thelia.

“Hmmmm, so how would I know what classification I am.”

I scratch my stubble for a moment.

“Well you can technically have an infinite amount of classification, each one uniquely tailored to the individual. Noting down the subtle differences, gets complex and can come to personality, or how they favor certain actions. So we generalize.

A fighter can use a bow, a sword and shield, two scimitars, a whip, a spear, etc. Clerics are gifted powers, through devotion, from their deity. The powers favor healing though. Rogues are often thieves, and assassins. They are nimble and possess a wide variety of skills. Wizards gain magical power through study, and careful implementation of key words, gestures, and components.”

Thelia nods along.

“So I would be a fighter then?”

She asks.

“Well there are more, so tell me a bit about how you fight. Do you sing to empower your allies? Do you channel the magic of your ancestors to cast spells? Do you carefully temper mind, and body through meditation? Does your vision go red, and your temper boil over as you destroy your opponents?”

I ask her. She nods for a moment.

“The last one I guess, many orcs are like that in the clan.”

I nod.

“Well then you are most likely a Barbarian. Warriors who savage their enemies with their unceasing rage. They channel their endless fury to become a force of nature. They possess a sixth sense for danger.”

I pause for a moment as we walk.

“You don’t strike me as a Barbarian however, while clearly you are strong, you carry yourself differently.”

I gesture behind myself.

“Your companions they… lumber for lack of a better term, they would be hard pressed to sneak up on a person. You seem more like a Brawler, carefully tempered fighting style that focuses on close combat fighting, and flowing with the battle.”

She cocks an eyebrow.

“Why do you say that?”

She asks. I point to her feet.

“You’ve barely made a sound as we walk. And what sounds you have made have been at nearly the same time someone else has made a sound. Your shoes also have barely any mud on them, and your cestus are well used.”

She gives me another once over, as if her initial appraisal of me was wrong.

“If you excuse me however I have something to discuss with my compatriots.”

I bow out of the conversation, and slow my pace to fall in line with Wizard, and Cleric, who still hasn’t spoken to me.

“Well Wizard give me your initial appraisal, what do you think of the group?”

She glances around, and cups a hand to my ear.

“Their arrival was strange like they knew where we were. They also made a show of walking down the road towards us, but I noticed that there were some footsteps along the road coming from the forest, out of sight from the camp. And my teacher worked with some orcs some tribes are known to breed worgs.”

“So you think the fight was a setup?”

She shakes her head.

“To early to say, but it would be a good idea to keep watch of them.”

“Thank you Wizard. And Cleric watch your step.”

I kick a foot out, and trip Wizard into a large mud puddle in the road she wasn’t paying attention to as we talked. She lets out a defeated groan as she gets on all fours dripping with mud. She wipes the mud from her eyes, and stands. I see a smile on Clerics face which she quickly turns into a frown when she catches me looking at her. I have no idea what has her so twisted probably something to do with the fight.

We walk hurriedly along, and actually make fairly good time despite the road. I talk with Thelia, and she agrees that it would be better to walk the extra hour after dark, to get to an inn instead of spending the night outside the city. Very few people are ambling about, so we draw attention.

Light shines through the windows of the Dragons Lair. I push open the tavern door, and inhale the smell of stew and Ale. It feels good to be home.