“It’s a bit hard to put it into words, honestly. I mean… If a figure straight out from your legends were to come over and pay a visit, what else could you do but to offer the best welcome you could feasibly think of? We’re a nomadic clan, so the best we got was a feast. That’s exactly what we offered.” - Miro of Clan Bloodfang, great shaman and former shaman-chief of the clan, circa 470 VA.

“I heard the news, but had not dared to believe at the time, but it truly is you, isn’t it, Miss?” asked a middle-aged half-orc as he walked out of the clan’s encampment to welcome the group. The half-orc had a tall stature and wore a feathered headdress styled somewhat between a chieftain’s and a shaman’s, which was a rarity in itself. Such a headdress denoted someone who had once held both positions simultaneously in their lifetime.

Such a position was a rarity amongst the orcish clans, usually a temporary position where the shaman assumed the responsibility of both the chieftain as well as their own position while waiting for more suitable candidates to become a new chieftain to mature. It was a position assumed when the shaman was the only figure who could convince all the other orcs in the clan to follow their lead after the passing of a chieftain, usually under unexpected circumstances.

For an orc to become a candidate for the position of a clan’s chieftain, they needed to convince the majority of the clan of their power. When a chieftain passed away unexpectedly, it sometimes happened that there were no figures that were suitable to replace them amongst the clan’s populace at the time. The shaman, who were typically powerful mages themselves, would step in at such a time to stabilize the clan if that happened.

On the other hand, the title of great shaman was one reserved for a “retired” shaman who no longer held the official position, but used to do so at one time. Typically orcs in this position served as advisors and teachers for the younger generation, while also often consulted by the current shaman and chieftain. It was very common to see orcs who had some elven heritage from clan Greentusk’s lineage in such a position given their longevity.

They do not wish for the clan to stagnate by holding on to the position overlong, so they assumed a role in the background instead, to continue helping the clan out without taking its reins.

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Miro was one such case, as he was a quarter elf by blood, giving him a lifespan around three centuries long. When Aideen last saw him, he was a young boy of only about fourteen, and over a century had passed since then. At nearly a hundred and fifty, the boy had grown into a middle-aged man, but his features still shared plenty of similarity to the youth in Aideen’s memories.

“Miro,” said Aideen in recognition as she welcomed the middle-aged great shaman with a warm hug. “It is good to see a familiar face still kicking around here, even after so long,” she added.

Many of the faces amongst the orcs of clan Bloodfang bore resemblance to people Aideen knew during the decades she spent with the clan, but it was just that, familial resemblance that was most likely due to those orcs being descendants of the ones she knew. Out of the current clan Bloodfang, Miro was the one face that overlapped between the past and the present, his long lifespan allowing him to live through the years until her return.

“I did pass on some of your tales myself to the young ones, though now that’s done by my apprentice since she took over as shaman, just never imagined that we’d be graced by your presence again so soon,” said the orcish shaman happily. “This is a joyful day for clan Bloodfang, and you arrived at the perfect time, too! The feast is almost ready to be had!”

“That’s pretty serendipitous timing,” noted Celia as she and the rest of the group walked over to where Aideen was. Juuka and Uria also followed behind, the two still looking somewhat awed by how the group of six kept up with their mounts over the past day and night without any trouble whatsoever. “Also, hi again, Little Miro.”

“Miss Celia, a pleasure to see you again too!” said Miro cheerfully as he noticed her approach. Aideen and Celia left a lasting presence in the then young Miro’s mind since they taught him a lot of things during the years after his return to clan Bloodfang from the Greentusks where his mother married into. “And it’s just good timing. Larbo arrived and reported your arrival around noon earlier today, so we started preparing the feast just in case. I guessed right that you would arrive within the same day.”

“But where are my manners, please, come along and sit down!” added Miro as he looked over the rest of the group. “Clan Bloodfang celebrates today, and as the cause of the celebration, we humbly invite you to partake in our home and hearth for the night, and for as long as it pleases you in the future as well! Come, come! Let us have some refreshments while we wait for the feast to finish its preparation!”

Aideen and the rest of the group walked over at the invitation, to where several orcs were spreading cover over the grass to sit on. They unrolled layers of thin mats made from woven straw and other dried fibers as a base, then spread beautiful embroidered woven rugs over the mats, the mats keeping the woven rugs clean from the grass and soil.

Everyone removed their shoes before they seated themselves cross-legged on the soft rugs, while several orcish youths came over to offer milk, juices from various fruits, and some light, fruity, fermented liquor to wash away the thirst accumulated over the journey.