With grey fingers, Vlor Ral'gene probed his head for where the stone struck and found scarlet blood dripping casually from his skull. This only made the Low Orc laugh aloud, catching the attention of both High and Low Orcs. This made Vlor very, very angry. Not angry enough to kill, but a good amount of furious.

Vlor took two steps before the Low Orc fled like a scared human child. Low Orcs were know to flee whenever a more impressive force presented itself. For conquerors and warlords, they usually turned out to have louder barks then bites. At that moment Vlor swore to beat that fool the next time he saw him, but now was not the time to lament on Low bastards.

He made his way towards the inner core of the Outcasts' camp. It felt like something close to a city compared to the derelict towns he'd passed in his travels. The Outcasts knew how to move from place to place better then any he'd seen before. Many nomads wandered the sand wastes, but few did it like these people. 

It also made up the strangest collection of life he'd ever seen. Vlor was not a hateful Orc by nature, but having so many different species of beings in one place felt concerning. Politics must of been hell for those who took the task. Vlor stayed with his people at the edge. Simple and reminiscent of home.

After a few minutes of wandering past tents and encampments, Vlor found himself at Blim's tent. They had not spoken often, but enough to create a work relationship. He stepped in, noting the large fancy tome he seemed to be reading faster then a man could run. He also saw one of the humans, a man named 'Samuel Darwin'. He paid Samuel little thought, for they were both probably there for the same reasons.

Vlor smacked a tight fist against his chest and gave the gnome a short nod, as tradition for the orcs when meeting with their cheiftain. Blim was probably the closest to thing the Outcast Orcs had.

"Blim, wise one," Vlor greeted, "our arrival here was swifter then the northern winds. The city onward looks ripe for a hunt, is it not?"