Jorg’s brow furrowed, he was finding it more and more difficult to maintain his boorish persona around his new companions. His infiltration of The Broken Crown had been easy, keeping up the act in the company of orcs and goblins required him to simply mirror their crass behaviour back at them. The Heroes of Woodcrest were less easy to fool.
At times he wanted to drop the act entirely, having a normal conversation for the first time in months would lift a huge weight. At other times he knew he couldn’t allow himself that luxury, not until this business with the cult was over. Then Jorg Grønnfjell could be put to rest and he could go back to his old life, his old name, and his family.
As the group trudged through the mountain landscape Jorg’s mind snapped back to the task at hand. Aligning himself with Fo’zek didn’t sit well, but it was a necessary compromise of his values – a greater evil must be vanquished and the favour of an ancient dragon would be useful. Killing a red dragon, while a slight detour, would at least bring him closer to Kord.
They must be getting close now. Jorg cast his more worldly thoughts aside and smoothed his brow. As he walked he began to commune with his god, he’d need all of the strength that Kord could offer in the coming battle.