Grozz cleaned his falcatas on the tabard of one of the dead men and sheathed them, then went and retrieved his shortbow. He arrived at the living orc just a few seconds after Kevahl.

Grib knelt down looking at the armor of the ones with the odd symbol. What he was looking for was the quality of the armor. Armor that pieced together would mean a poor group, armor that's good but different for each person with no similarities would hint at mercenaries, if they were mostly the same style well then not just wealthy but strong group. Of course at the same time he was rummaging in pockets and bags.

"Ourselves, our families, our friends, and our tribe. Who did you fight for?" Kevahl cut strips from the clothing of the dead humans and bound the Orc's wounds. He didn't think it would help, in the long term, but it might buy time for answers...

Grib went over to Kevahl "The Derro all have matching armor well made, typical. Humans armor didn't match bet they were mercenaries the Orcs had standard tribal armor. Big thing is, who ever they are they have their own money." He held up one of the coins with the tree mark. Then he looked to the dying Orc "I figure you don't have enough blood in your head to think well. We killed the humans who were about to burn you, so we don't fight for them or with them. You don't recognize us nor do we have a clan symbol you know so we don't fight for you. We are our own." He looked to Grozz "Found human with a staff and this book. Bet it's magic stuff, hate magic but perhaps you can read the human writing."

Grib shrugged why did we help the Orc. He thought about it and only thing that came to his mind he blurted out. "We don't know who about, or what going on. To many questions to many problems. So we need answers, it's also smart to try to be friends with the Broken Fang then your Foes."

Grozz had excused himself just after the fight and gone to gather some herbs from the forest. He returned just before Mikmuk arrived. Hearing the trundling ogre long before he actually saw him, Grozz identified him by the particular snorting huff of his breathing. He continued working on the herbs as the ogre stomped up behind him.

He started by breaking open lashta berries and crushing dopsy pods, then mixing them together on a flat garrul mushroom. He smeared the mixture onto several folded cerdumon leaves, which he then bound with the stalk of a spined fern that had been stripped of its barbs. Taking the herbal bundle over to the orc, he instructed him to bite the bundle in half and swallow each half without chewing. If the orc did so, Grozz would then give him a small amount of water.

Kevahl left watching over the wounded Orc to Grozz, who was better with wounds, and reported what the Orc had said to Baruk. "Not sure yet why this one didn't want to join up, or why some of the Fang leaders got killed. My guess is same answer to both questions."

Grozz stood up and stepped over to Baruk. "No. His wounds are too severe. What I gave him will dull his pain and clear his head so that he can face Death as a warrior, not coughing up blood and mewling like a dying animal."

"You are WRONG." the voice of the orc commanded as he laboriously climbed to his feet. "I am not yet ready for my life to end. You will have to wait a bit longer, Death!" he yelled at the sky. Grozz stepped back over to the orc, who looked down at him. "Help me to bind my wounds, young one."

Grozz nodded and found enough relatively clean cloth to make bandages. He went back into the forest and emerged ten minutes later with two invi leaves, a large kingsnake that was busy wrapping around his forearm, several wild onion stalks, and a forla fruit.

He started by cleaning the garrul mushroom, then laid the wide and flat invi leaves down on it. He cut the head off the kingsnake and gutted it, then squeezed the blood out of its body onto the invi leaves. He sliced up the forla fruit and put a slice into the small pool of blood on each leaf. Lastly, he cut two chunks off the end of the garrul mushroom and mashed them, placing the mash on the forla fruit slices. He folded the invi leaves closed, then bound them with the wild onion stalks.

He placed the poultices over the orc's wounds, then wrapped the two areas tightly with the cloth he'd found. "They will itch and burn, but you will NOT scratch at them, understood?"

Kevahl laughed as the Orc was bandaged up by Grozz. "He's a stubborn one. That answers part of the question. I am Kevahl, of the Sheild and Spears tribe. What shall we call you, Orc who is to stubborn to die?"

The orc tried to draw himself up, but his side twinged and his breath caught. He spoke, a bit breathlessly. "Hail Baruk, my chief. I am Yzark, formerly of the Shield-biters and the Rotted Fang. I pledge my life to you and yours. What is your tribe's name, so that I may add it to my own once I have proven myself?"