[Himaran]

Will Witfoot's post - Gortek

Gortek and Arasiniel made their way back to the campsite. Gortek's wrath had already been cooled by the appology of the man, but dwarfs by nature were a stubborn lot. Forgiving the ranger so soon seemed impossible somehow.
As they entered the clearing in which their common camp with the elf, Raendin, was situated, they found the elf already packing his things as if expecting to leave at any moment. Gortek himself felt a strange predicament nagging in the back of his head, and he had found these kind of impulses to be right on many an occasion, so he made ready his own things.

He had just got all of his few belongings packed and was just fumbling for his pipe, when he thought he caught the sound of something approaching. His senses, honed by years of living in the wild, instantly alerted him to any possible danger connected with the noise. He glanced at his companions and could tell that they had sensed it also, and three such persons so accustomed to the outdoors were highly unlikely to be mistaken on such a matter.
Now they all could definitely hear something approaching. Reaching a wordless agreement they dived into the cover of the trees like wraiths, even Gortek moving with a stealth that his short, stocky body seemed to dennie. Readying their weapons, the trio made ready for whatever was approaching.

They had only waited for a few minutes at the most when a group of creatures entered the small glade. Gortek squinted with his one good eye and mentally cursed his poor sight. The arivals were talking amidst themselves.

"Man, elf and dwarf tracks. Been here for some time."

The gruff voice and guttural accent drained some of the tension out of Gortek. At least they were dwarfs.

"Aye, a month or two at least. But why? The weather is fine, but what about shelter? They have none!"

Gortek was now completely relaxed, lulled into calm by the familiar sound of the strangers voices. He kept his sword ready though, just in case. You could not even be sure of your own kin at these times.
He saw one of the newcomers move over to their still warm fire pit and reach out with his hand, probing the ash.

"Warm. This wood was burning an hour ago."

Thwang! It seemed that the elf did not quite share Gortek's calm. The arrow he had loosed embedded itself into the ground scant inches away from the stranger's hand. It was met with a challenge from one of the newcomers.
Glancing at each other, the three travellers stepped into the clearing.

Gortek surveyed the newly arrived party from head to toe. Most of them were quite young by dwarfish standards.
He knuckled the eye patch that covered his left eye and grinned, atlast speaking into the silence.

"These ain't orcs by the looks of things, eh?" The statement was followed by a bout of jolly, if somewhat insane bout of laughter.

"Gortek, called sometimes 'the Mad-eye' at your service. Now who are you beardlings?".