The study of the weakest of the tribes of the Orcs has dragged on. The more information I received about it, the more questions, often a few philosophical ones, arose in my head, like how much the desire to survive and adapt in the minds of reasonable people is able to move them up the "evolutionary" ladder. What do I mean? Well, the orcs of the Ravshayev tribe were very different from their "comrades" by the rudiments of some "discipline"... How much this concept can be applied to these creatures. I will say more, I have noticed signs of social solidarity and friendly support! However, nothing surprising - Ravshayev did not have his own goblins, except for the lucky ones, and most of the "draft" work had to be done by the orcs themselves, even females and cubs, but for adults as well - there was simply no time and energy for idle wobbling or clarification of relations, but I suspect that we wanted to eat.
Much more interesting things were with the shaman, thereby Rung. Besides Ravshayev, I secretly managed to sneak a peek at other tribes as well, so this representative of the sorcerers was very different from his colleagues. Other users of tambourines almost constantly pampered and glorified their patron, Gruumsh, but this orc... No, he also carried out all kinds of rituals, blessings, ritual gifts, etc., but the number of such rituals was not in any comparison with what was happening in the neighborhood. Besides, although I can be mistaken here, these rituals were performed by an old orc as if unwillingly as they had been annoyed with the routine for a long time, while the rest of his "colleagues" were burning with religious zeal. Very strange. But, as it turned out a little later, the strangeness of this just began.
Once again I watched the shaman's actions, that muttering some untranslatable wheel, throwing small bones around the camp, emitting an incomprehensible glow in the magical spectrum. Is that what spell weaving looks like? Even though it was very specific, but it was the first time that I could see the real execution of the witchcraft, which you might say was beautiful, but as soon as he finished, the orc turned exactly in my direction:
- Come out, stranger! I know you're here!
- The magical energy around the old man rocked and gently enveloped his body with something like a cocoon.
It was as if time had frozen. I was caught on an exhalation and could literally watch the tiny droplets of moisture still coming out of my lungs slowly settle on the surface of the stone I was hiding behind.
Fall back? Attack?
No, it's a bad idea. I need this sorcerer alive and ready to communicate, and it is not a fact that I can get to him. I may not have seen shamans fighting, but judging by the magical energy that has enveloped him, he will have something to meet me with, it is not a fact that acceleration will help me carefully disable him... or even carelessly. And attacking a magician on his territory without knowing the magic itself from the word "absolutely" is not a good idea. A retreat? You should be ready for it... Given the vampire's speed, I should have a chance to escape from a possible enemy, so... Why not really talk... From a safe distance.
Without making any sudden movements, I went to a relatively bright place, thoughtfully trying to stay away from the borders delineated by scattered bones.
- Hmm...
- Ork thoughtfully stroked his chin and squinting - there wasn't much light, though, - drow?
- No, just interested... reasonable, I tried to talk as streamlined as possible.
- Well, what do you want, "interested"? - sarcasm sounded in the voice of a shaman, and your hand clenched the shaft of a massive staff more tightly, - you've been spinning around our territory for the third day already, - heh, the discrepancy, I've been "spinning" here for a little less than a week now, I'm going out, or something has alerted my visa vie and he somehow put a more reliable "alarm system" three days ago, or he deliberately calls the wrong time for some reason. But it doesn't matter where the bigger question is, what does he have to answer? After a little reflection, I came to the conclusion that the best way to answer is, to tell the truth, or partial truth, but suddenly he has ways of knowing if there are any lies like this?
- I'm interested in the knowledge of magic. And I want to get it.
- Do I want to teach you?
- The orc chuckled and bared.
- And from what horn? You are not even an orc!
- Is it so important?
A simple question hangs in the air, causing a minute pause. The old man did not blink at me, almost silently, slowly breathing, but did not rush to answer. The magical background around him was at rest, if not to take into account the slightly winking cocoon. I didn't move either.