Orcs are inherently chaotic creatures, but they are also extremely militant, and out of the goblinoids I've heard about only the Orogs, a close cousin of the Orc, are supposed to be more disciplined of fighters.

I approach the encampment without issue, but am stopped at the entrance to a sally port and asked where I am from. Heart hammering, I remember that I must answer. I point to some of the unrepaired cuts on the back of my Studded leather, and I tell them that I am returning from a patrol and the rest of the patrol was lost.

The Orc that stopped me tells me to report to the War chief. No password or anything?! Seriously?! Is it really this easy, or is this a trap? Orcs are more than intelligent enough to lay a trap at this level as a method of preventing intrusion, but they are also dumb enough that this might be their policy.

I am not the best at reading Orcish facial expressions and I am not completely confident in being undiscovered, but at this point I am committed so I walk into the camp as confidently as I can. I head directly towards the largest tent (hopefully the correct one) until the guards who let me in are out of sight, after which I work my way to the side and slow down, trying not to be noticed by the grunting, smelly creatures. I receive a lot of glances, but as far as I can tell none of them seem to be lingering.

Infiltration is not a strong point for me, at no point in either of my lives have I been a professional spy. I've done night raids and so on, and I know and follow some of the basics such as strapping down anything that might rattle or jingle at an inappropriate time, but I'm nowhere near the level of someone who has specialized in it.

Additionally although I've learned about many cultures over the years, the lessons were always about operating within the culture in a respectful and appropriate fashion, not trying to pretend that it's my native culture. I can tell lies, anyone can, but it's not one of my strong points either.

All bluster aside, I only have a vague idea as to how I am supposed to do this. I meander closer and closer towards the big tent, passing dozens of Orcs along the way, there are hundreds of them in this encampment. As I pass I listen closely to see if I can happen to glean any relevant information as I go. When I finally reach the side of the big tent, I hear a voice calling out from inside, “Wuglat,” the guttural voice exclaims, “Tell War Chief Bagamul about todays divination. We must move. The divination does not provide direction, but it is pressing.”

Holy shit… Not only did I get the name, but there is also already a report that I can try and overhear?! This is exactly what I came in here hoping to observe, and in not even 5 minutes a chance throws itself at me! Pleased that learning the language while growing up here ended up being useful, I try to move closer to the front so that I can follow whoever it is that leaves.

About 30 seconds later, a skinny (for an Orc, he is still much thicker than I am), hunched Orc exits, and walks briskly to the next tent over. So, the war chief is not in the biggest tent, but in the second largest. Perhaps the big tent is where the Shamans stay?

Wuglat enters the second tent, but I do not hear anything right away. I sit there for about 3 minutes before the tent flap next moves. I have not heard a single sound from within. Some sort of barrier to prevent conversations from being overheard, perhaps?

It is Wuglat again, and he walks directly past me but does not seem to have found my loitering particularly suspicious, because he barely glances at me along the way, only checking to make sure he wouldn’t bump into me on his current path.

I really, really wish I could have heard how a proper report is made, but with a barrier in place it seems that is completely off the table as an option unless I try and follow someone into the tent. It will not give me much time to try and figure out how I will try and lure the leader to Regina, but it would at least not ruin my shot the second I open my mouth.

I double check my schematics, which I have capped with metal and attached together in the style of a key ring, to ensure that I can quickly and correctly select both the suggestion and the invisibility schematics when they are needed. And then I wait.

There are no guards directly in front of the tent I am stalking, but the next person to enter is likely to notice me loitering around, so I try and make my angle of observation less obvious, positioning myself to be able to try and follow someone into the tent.

There is only so much “less obvious” you can do when you are trying to stand still and discretely observe while in the middle of a yurt township, but I can at least get a tent between me and what I am guessing is the direction someone is most likely to come from. Once positioned, I activate my Magic Scroll imbuement on the suggestion schematic. Its duration should be amply sufficient now that I am close to the target.

Although it feels like an eternity when you're surrounded by people that would love to decapitate you, I only have to wait another 3 minutes or so before I see someone crossing my field of view, walking towards the hut. I step out about 5 meters behind him and follow at a brisk pace similar to his own. He walks into the tent without hesitation, so when I reach the tent flap I enter without hesitation as well.

My ears pop as I enter, bright light piercing into the dim tent in a quickly receding flood of light. I ensure that the tent flap closes and turn around, trying to calm my racing heart and observe my predecessors action as best as I can. The level of adrenaline involved in an infiltration is absurd, and I can only hope that my nervousness won't give me away or otherwise draw suspicion.

“War Chief, we discovered a body from a missing Wolf patrol that was intended for local reconnaissance. Our estimate is that it likely happened about 2 days ago, about 20 kilometers southeast of camp. We should investigate more closely, whoever did that is near.”

A monster of an Orc, nearly 2.5 meters tall and probably weighing 150 kilos and maybe a little more, is sitting on a leather covered… Not quite a throne, but large and clearly expensive chair, covered by fresh and supple looking leather, probably deerskin. To his side an older Orc, missing an eye but large and burly, nearly as large as the chief, turns to him and says “This is probably related to the Shamans divination. We should listen to him and leave.”

The orc on the other side of the fancy chair, ancient by orc standards, chimes in and says “I agree. We have been in one place far too long, local creatures are bound to show up in force. We are merely here to scout. We should move yesterday. It will be hard to lose their scent now that they have found blood. We should set up traps and an ambush, that they know the might of our people while we extend our scouting.”

Finally, the big Orc says “This is probably I do not care, we will pack today. Leave tomorrow. More meat.”

What? I think to myself. What did he mean “This is probably I do not care”? That entire response is downright garbled and nonsensical. Did he misspeak, or is this abomination of language conventions something this Orc leader believes to be meaningful? Do the bigger muscles somehow force out the brains, getting rid of excess brain power to be able to fit more muscle?

At that point, I realize that my previous calculations were grossly flawed, and my effort to capture the war chief would consequently bear no fruit. This man they call war chief is almost certainly the leader of this expedition, but he simply lacks the capacity to understand anything beyond basic concepts. He might be the easiest of their leadership to hit with an enchantment effect, but despite his position and informational access, he is a horrible candidate to kidnap for intel.

I need one of the shamans, or possibly that one eyed veteran, they seem to be competent at more than hitting things. As they dismiss the scout in front of me, I approach next, aiming for the same point in the tent as the last person to appear, and mimic the same cursory bow and fist-to-chest salute my predecessor executed.

“War chief,” I say, “we find strange rune near camp. It glows but we cannot understand. Please have Shaman come with me, let know bad or good.” I intone in their guttural tongue, doing my best rendition of a simple orc, inspired by the very man I am now speaking to.

As I dropped my fist salute and began to say "War Chief", I reached into my pocket and selected the readied suggestion schematic, which I previously enhanced with my magical scroll imbuement so that it does not require a vocal component while casting it.

I feel like my maneuver was as swift and smooth as could possibly be hoped for. The One eyed fellow and the Ancient Orc both appear to be keen eyed and alert, but unless they have the ability to see magical effects passively, even they should not have seen anything terribly suspicious.

The war chief does not wait for his advisors this time. He merely looks at the Ancient Orc and says “Shaman stuff. Go.”

“Yes, War Chief” the Shaman sighs and replies in a dry and croaking voice. “I will dispatch a shaman and some guards and have them head over now.” He directs his attention to me and says, “Go tell Hoknuk of the War Chiefs order, you can guide him there.”

Hoknuk? I am expected to know who that is? And I am expected to be to one to fetch him? I feel like I wasted my suggestion spell to end with a result like this, even a visit to the chief was unnecessary if this were to be the result. If I were to have been this easily satisfied, I could have just pretended I was acting under the War Chiefs orders in the first place. Who could have known it would be so ridiculously easy to fool these people? A sobering thought when you realize that on average they are every bit as intelligent as the members of my own race.

So, was this good enough? It is obvious that a shaman would be the best target, they are certainly more knowledgeable and capable than the chief, but… Would Hoknuk be the best Shaman to interrogate? I already used my suggestion spell, dispatching *a* shaman is what I asked for after all, but would they dispatch the best shaman for interrogation? I suspect that Hoknuk is probably one of their lowest ranking and least knowledgeable shamans, and probably a poor candidate for a kidnapping.

The attention of the War Chief and his two advisors has already shifted away from me, but even though I know that being greedy makes an already dangerous operation even more dangerous, walking out with a shaman who doesn't know anything meaningful would be just as big of a failure as returning with no one at all.

I can’t walk out with such an unsatisfactory result. I don’t want some random shaman, I want someone who knows what is going on. I pitch the best idea I can come up with in the moment to try and bring the highest ranking shaman I can.

“Hoknuk? Rune make me feel funny, but good. Might not work long, not so bright after touch. Thought War Chief might want go, or you go. Hoknuk?”

The ancient Orc turns to face me once more. “What do you mean, funny but good?”

“Hard say. Like… Sun falls on forest. Dreamy. Felt good. Open. Like… I paint with colors of wind.”

“What? What's this about painting with wind? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Like say, hard 'splain. Feel funny, but good. Close to nature? Not natural, but natural? Seem maybe good for shaman?”

“And you say the rune dimmed after you touched it?”

“Yeah, not so bright. Like maybe only work some few times.”

“Interesting. War Chief, may I attend to this after all? This might be more important than I was expecting. This might even be an opportunity for yourself, or some of my other higher-ranking shamans, or even the blessed. I’ll investigate first and let you know the results.”

The war chief grunts disinterestedly, halfheartedly waving to show how little he cares, and says “Shaman stuff.”

“Let’s go, we can grab a few guards on the way.” The ancient one says, laboriously pulling himself up from his plain wooden chair, picking up a frog from the arm of the chair that had stayed so still I hadn't noticed it before.

I'm very, very glad I buffed my bluff skill before I came here; and thank god or luck or whatever that they took the bait. If in doubt, an appeal to greed is always a great negotiation tool, I think to myself.

I exit along with the ancient one, having failed to note the suspicion which appeared on the face of the One-Eyed Veteran when I stuck around to deliver a follow up pitch.