starter for @vicit-vim-virtus
The orc still did not know this world well, lingering in the shadows and looking for a clue as to why he had been sent here. With his green skin and white tusks, he didn't fit in here, that much he had already figured out. People didn't know someone like him. He towered over people in height and width. He covered his body with a brown poncho that covered him quite well, but that was all he could do. He could hunt here, which was why he didn't get too close to people, but he picked up rumors and things here and there that helped him along. The earth here was strange to him, but the elements still listened to him. That helped him get by here, but magic worked differently here. It was confusing for the shaman, but he accepted it. Somehow.
On one of the nights when he lit a small fire, on the edge of a mountain range to be at least partially protected (and a small cave at his back), he heard someone's footsteps before he saw the person. Even though he was a shaman, Thrall carried a sword. He grabbed it and watched the shadows. He could be recognized in the tongues of flame and it wasn't long before he spotted someone.
"If you want to sit by my fire and warm yourself, you can do so. Peacefully." Did the stranger understand him? His voice was deep and slightly rumbling, cloaked in a foreign accent.










