Orcsama Sensei was meditating by a fountain, channeling his inner spark, when his sword got his attention. This is not to say it got caught on something, gleamed in the sunlight, or clattered to the ground. Orcsama's sword was more- much more- than hammered steel.
It was an ancient weapon, forged by a terrible dark wizard as a prison for Me'Lark, a powerful Monk. As punishment for sabotaging the wizard's evil plan, Me'Lark is forever trapped in the blade, unable to interact with the outside world except by a telepathic connection to those who touch his cage.
And it was through that connection that Me'Lark suggested, rather aggressively, that Orcsama find a place to hide and sleep. Whatever business brought them to this town was not yet on, and Orcsama would need to be well rested if there was to be a siege at dawn.
"Buh! Who would fight at dawn? Too early. Orcs never fight before noon."
"But it may not be Orcs we must face, student of mine."
"Then what's the problem? I can tear any pinkskin in half, even without help from a smart blade like you."
"Yes, you are strong, Orcsama, but what if there are fifty pinkskins? Or a hundred? What if the bells are calling to us to stop a fierce dragon?"
Orcsama grumbled because, as usual, his sword was right. Orcsama worried that maybe such a smart sword would always be more right than him, but having the smart sword made him stronger, so he listened to it prattle on.
"The road to mastery is one of discipline, and part of that discipline is to make preparation for your sleep before you get tired. Without any gold, we'll have to make camp illicitly, and preferably in a place that's well hidden."
Orcsama found a nice perch atop a red brick building. The roofing was in need of some repair, but that meant the Orc could see into the dwellings below. He found a patch of loose thatch that appeared to be above an unoccupied room. Me'Lark's plan for stealthy sleeping, however, was short sighted, as the great big frame of a 300 pound, 7 foot wall of muscle tends to snore quite loudly, not to mention produce an AWFUL lot of drool. To make matters worse, Orcsama began rolling around in his sleep. Eventually, Orcsama and his sword fell off the short rooftop and landed at the foot of the Town Herald, who let off a great shriek.
"You see! I knew you had a greater voice, waiting to escape you." The speaker was a squinty eyed, sky blue skinned water genie named Marissa. At six feet tall, she towered over the Herald, a mere mouse of a man. She carried with her all the gear an adventurer might be expected to have: A studded leather vest, gleaming bronze pauldrons protecting her shoulders with leather straps that crisscrossed over her blouse to attach to the plate metal battle skirt hanging over her knees. Her footwear might have seemed impractical to the uninitiated, though. Being a water elemental, Marissa opted for stringy sandals with thin leather soles- convenient when your legs can transmute into water.
Wagging a finger at Marissa, the Herald squeaked "Listen, lady, before you showed up I'd never SEEN a blue person before, now I got them FALLING FROM THE SKY!"
He may have looked mousey, but his livelihood was his voice and he was ready to let this genie have it. The Herald had been tasked with summoning any and all able bodied would-be heroes to the square, so that they might train for tomorrow's climactic battle. But what he had not been asked to do is put up with all these sketchy characters!
"You there, Orc, have you a name?" snapped the Herald.
Clearly embarrassed, the blue-black leather skinned man jumped to his feet, then fell to a knee. "I am called Orcsama Sensei, and I am pledged to protect the-"
"Good enough!" Interrupted the Herald. "Join the gaggle of fools behind us and try to keep up."
Reaching the square, Marissa grouped together her new trainees to begin learning the art of combat. By summoning fiercer and fiercer apparitions, Marissa was able to train her new, motley crew in the very basics. She also worked with them to introduce the simpler aspects of spellcasting.