“While mages were a relatively common thing, those who rose into greater heights than most were often called archmages, and generally proved easily how they deserved their title. Amongst the tribal society of the Western Isles and Northern Alcidea, people we’d normally term an archmage would usually serve as either the chieftain or some of the celebrated warriors should their magic be particularly useful for combat, or as shamans otherwise.

Shamans were generally considered respected teachers and advisors, who were looked up to by the rest of their tribe. Healers and other less combative sorts of archmages used their skills and wisdom to aid their tribes from this position of respect, and often taught or passed down their skills to the younger generation.” - Excerpt from “The Tribal Life” by Fergus Harrington the IIIrd, sociologist and researcher of tribal society from Caroma, circa 403 FP.

To say that the orcs were impressed was an understatement of the century. They basically devolved into surprised shouting and questioning as they crowded around the young orc who had his missing digits healed back. The young orc himself seemed flustered by all the attention he attracted, and was more nervous than anything, while Aideen sat back down and stirred the stew in the pot a few more times.

The resulting pleasant smell that wafted through the area caught the attention of the orcs, and more than one belly grumbled at the appetizing scent. Aideen herself acted nonchalant for a moment, before she brought out several more bowls and loaves of bread from her storage, then poured a measure of stew into each before she plunked down a loaf of bread into the bowl as well.

“You’re at my hearth, so only fitting that I offer you some warmth,” she said in orcish as she offered a bowl of stew and bread to the orcish woman who first greeted them. Celia watched the whole exchange in wonderment from the side, her half-eaten bowl of stew almost forgotten, though she couldn’t really understand anything being spoken between them.

“Your offer of warmth is welcome and accepted, gratitude,” said the orcish woman as she gave Aideen a slight bow with her arms crossed over her chest. Then she accepted her bowl of stew, and passed it down the line to the rest of the orcs, as Aideen passed her the rest of the stew she already portioned out. Before too long, an odd scene took place at the prairie that evening, where the group of orcs sat down and peacefully enjoyed their meal alongside two humans.

“We offer gratitude for the offering of warmth, pale one,” said the orcish woman after everyone finished eating. By then none of the orcs showed any hostility to Aideen or Celia, and she even recalled that some of them gave what sounded like praises to her cooking during the meal, which proved to be an effective way to get close with these nomadic tribals. “And in turn we would invite you to our hearth to share the fire, and to meet the honored shaman. Do you accept?”

“It would be our honor,” replied Aideen with a smile and a nod.

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An hour or so later, Aideen saw the orcish encampment, a collection of conical and cylindrical tents made out of pelts and fabrics, which looked lightweight to her eyes. It made sense, since if the tribe was indeed nomadic they would move around on a regular basis, and as such their tents would be the sort that could be easily packed up and carried along with them.

As she and Celia rode behind the orcish matron - whose name she learned to be Orica - and Dagna, respectively, none of the sentries around the encampment halted them, though looks of obvious curiosity were thrown their way by the many younger orcs. Orica seemed to have a rather high position in the camp, though, as she simply drove her rhinoceros mount towards the center of the encampment, where one particularly large circular tent stood.

Aideen dismounted as Orica had, while Celia and Dagna behind them followed suit. The burly orcish matron brought them into the tent, while the younger orc bid them goodbye, as he was apparently not of high enough station to enter the tent and meet the shaman directly. The scent of incense wafted out the moment the tent flap was lifted, and inside, both Aideen and Celia saw the richly decorated interior of the tent.

The interior of the tent was carpeted with finely woven rugs in tribal patterns, many of which also hung from the walls, which gave the interior of the tent a warm, cozy feel together with the light of the lit braziers. The skull of great beasts hung as decorations in several places around the perimeter, while weapons and shields were placed between them, perfectly serviceable items rather than decorative ones.

In the center of the tent, rested on a bed of cushions, was an old orc who had grown decrepit with age, a sign that Aideen knew meant that the orc was within the final decade of their life, being cared for by a slightly younger one who also had their hair mostly gray. Both orcs perked up and looked at the entrance, and looked more intrigued than anything when they saw Aideen and Celia following behind Orica.

“I see… that the warchief had brought… new guests… unusual guests… for the horde…” said the old, decrepit orc with slow, quiet words. Despite his advanced age, the old orc seemed very calm, and still in possession of all his faculties, which was rather rare in orcs that had already reached their final years like him. “To what pleasure… does the Clan of Bloodfang… owe this visitation?”

“Honored shaman, we encountered these strangers on the prairie on this fine eve, and they were learned of the ways of the clans, even spoke the old speech with great fluency,” said Orica as she gave a deeper bow towards the old orc. “They claim to have contact with other clans, beyond the great oceans far to our south, and have offered healing for hearth, so I have brought them to your presence in search of answers, and in case they prove valuable for your ailings.”

“Most interesting…” said the old orc as he nodded, his now-scraggly beard slightly muffled up by the movement, before he beckoned at Aideen with one wrinkled hand. “Come closer, please… child of man… as these old eyes sadly no longer worked as well as they used to…”