Now, back to Barrowden!

You smile, looking down at the grisly object you held in your hand. You held the orcish head by the small ponytail that it used to wear, great globs of blood falling down to the earth. This, you knew, would be quite the statement to the mayor, and the population of Barrowden. Maybe you'd start to gain a reputation, and guards wouldn't pester you each time you entered the town, and maybe other towns would follow suit if rumours spread of you. With that happy thought in mind, you walked towards Barrowden, keeping a tight hold on the head with one hand, the other swinging merrily by your side. The constant drip of blood was a macabre source of comfort for you. The comfort of a job well done, and hopefully, more to come.

It only took you 10 minutes to return to Barrowden. There were two guards that stood at the gate, ones that you recognised. Kesten and Matteau. You see a glint in their eyes as you approach, and Kesten opens his mouth to speak, a despicable leer in her eyes, while Matteau stares at you with cold fury, but the moment you raise the orc chieftain's head up to eye-level, they shrink away from you, as if confronted with how despicable they really were. The two let you in without a word, hurriedly moving their spears away from the open gates.

You stride in confidently. The location of the manor, where you had been told the mayor lived, was obvious. It was, simply the largest building in the town, towering over the rest. Walking towards it, you looked up to the sky. Hmm. It was night time. And the stars were out. That might be a problem. The mayor might not be around to accept the trophy. Shrugging slightly, you forge onward. For something like this, you reckon it's worth waking some stuffy noble from his beauty sleep.

Eventually you reach the large manor. You leave a prodigious trail of dark red blood on the street behind you, as if leaving a violent and disgusting breadcrumb trail for Hannzzel the daemon and Gri'Tel the succubus to follow. You rapped loudly on the large double doors. And waited. Frowning, you rap again with your free hand, this time louder. And then you wait. Scowling at being **** to stand on ceremony, you raise your hand to rap loudly once again, but suddenly, the door opens, and a rather angry, bald head of a man pushes its way out. The wrinkled, aging old coot with his strange way of introducing himself reminds you of a tortoise's head emerging from its shell. The man, however, is not as kind and easygoing as those noble animals.

"What do you want?!" He hisses angrily, clearly trying to keep his voice down but also wanting to raise it due to his fury. "Don't you know the time? You'll wake Mayor Krenvich!" You do not speak, but raise up the snarling orc head right up to his face. His eyes go wide as saucers and the tortoise suddenly disappeared back into his shell. The sound of breaking china rings out from inside, and you barely stifle a laugh. You hear a hissing from inside the house. "I will... Wake the mayor and show him the trophy. But do not expect an audience!" The doorman speaks through the crack in the door, not showing his face now. Suddenly, you are presented with a sack. With a shrug, you dump the head inside, and it is swiftly taken away. You lean against the door for about 15 minutes, humming softly and taking a few looks over the town. It's oddly peaceful, and the stars twinkle in the night sky.

Finally, the tortoise pokes his head out again. This time, he is wearing a look of obviously **** courtesy. "T-The Mayor is very happy with the trophy. Here is the gold." And a large purse is offered, which you swiftly take, a smile breaking over your soft features. You are about to turn to go, but the doorman stops you. "H-He also..." You can tell the old coot is struggling to say this, the look of **** courtesy twisting over his face. "T-That is, Mayor Krenvich would like to invite you to tea. Tomorrow, midday. Here. He wishes to meet the saviour of Barrowden." He after saying this, the doorman seems to relax, but his grimace of **** courtesy still twists his face in an ugly way.

You blink in surprise. The mayor himself wishes to see you? Well... You suppose you'd better, right? Better not insult the mayor of a town you want to stay in. With a shrug, you nod. "I'll take the invitation. Expect me." The old tortoise nods quickly, and slams the door in an instant, leaving you standing alone in the street. Turning, you raise your eyebrows again. A dinner with the mayor? Well, you'll look the part with your armour at least.

Now, you need a place to stay the night. And you are thirsty.