The summer was challenging and the winds speak of another cold winter, and yet the old Orc Shaman does not seem bothered.
Staring out into the rocky terrain of southern Tothwescom from the cavern he rested in last night he could see the camp down into the valley.The nights watch fires still smoldering, he could easily spot the human guards. The armor they worn relfecting the orange shine of the still rising sun afterall betraying their feeble attempts at subtlety. Vulkas, The Sky-Reaper (Spirit of the Storm) appeared before Orc in a dream soaring through the skies circling the camp overhead, it's sharp eyesight keeping a vigil watch as the camp operated. The Eagle obviously suspected something about this camp, but yet has not shared any of that information with the Shaman, but if the Eagle is watching the camp, the orc shall too. For as a Shaman it is his duty to be the eyes, ears, and voice of the great spirits in the mortal realm. When they act, so does he. For that is the way of the tribes.
He knew why the humans were here. It's the same reason humans always come to this valley. The tombs of the Old Kings are here, the long passed and buried with treasures of knowledge and history. Tombs that the old Shaman was tasked with protecting by Akor, The Iron Tusk (Spirit of the Earth). It was not these humans who bore the blood giving them the rights, The Bear told the Shaman so. And, yet the Shaman has not seen these humans leave the camp since they arrived here. Not even to forage.
Six days... The orc thought to himself
The camp has been here for six days, the first day they arrived the slaughtered their horses, the second what seemed like a group of prisoners, the past four days a group of robed figures stood in a circle surround a woman who was bound with a cloth sack over her head. The Shaman has been patiently waiting to find an opening so he could get closer to catch the voices of them men, but the watch of the armored guardsmen left no openings for him.
He knew nothing of the magics the humans practiced, only knowing that it was powerful much like the powers the spirits grant him. Whatever it was they were doing, was not good. At least that much was obvious to him. But he was alone, so all he could was watch. Thus watch he has chosen to do so. Waiting to see if he could find out at the very least what the camp was up to.
He tasked a small rabbit to contact Clan Frostwalker on the first day, but he knew that if they were to come they would still be another days travel still. So here he rests, and here he waits.
For that, is the way.