[sblock=Todarr]
You walk with Tromolden past the drooping willows into a short stretch of empty, slightly muddy plain. About half an hour later, you reach a section of short, rolling hills. You crest the first hill, and as you do so, you can just make out a series of four or five tents in the distance.
"We are in luck - it looks as if Ruckzxxtz's camp is still here." It is difficult to say if he is pronouncing a name or merely clearing his throat, until he speaks the name again. "Ruckzxxtz leads one of Baradur's Circle's of Joining." Tromolden smiles, but does not elaborate further.
As you crest the last hill before the tents, you see that there are four orcs seated by the closest tent, munching on gods-know-what - it looks like the leg of something foul. They are attired very differently from the orcs you dispatched during the evening prior - these are similarly armed, but their leather armor has been colored black, with tar or pitch from what you can tell. There is a pattern on the back of each orc's outfit - what looks like a figure in the center of a solid white circle, with lots of smaller figures surrounding it.
Tromolden stops a fair ways off from the camp and shouts something out in a language that hurts your ears. The orcs nearly leap up from their meal, weapons at the ready, but as soon as they lay eyes on Tromolden, their stance softens, and they bow, not rising until Tromolden barks out again.
Several more orcs emerge from the other tents and draw near. As they come out, you notice something most disturbing - several of them seem to have traded their orc arms for something... else. One of them has a crab-like appendage, while another has a beasts mouth where one of its hands should be. A third has two normal orc legs, and two legs from some other unidentifiable creature, walking like some kind of orc-spider.
Your attention shifts from orc to orc, pausing on each unnatural fusing of orc and animal, until you realize that the orcs are coming uncomfortably close. "Rzzntl asdf fkjljkzzym!" shouts Tromolden. The nearest orcs grab you by the shoulders. You instinctively push them away, but more orcs pile on, taking you to the ground and holding you there.
"Ah, Todarr. It is time to end your little ruse. I could tell from the beginning of your supposed betrayal of your friends that your heart was not truly in it. But much of you will be 'in it' nevertheless - oh, very much so." He shouts out to the orcs again, and they grunt and whinny in what must be laughter. Tromolden grins, clearly pleased with himself "You have proven your strength as well as your foolishness, Todarr, in bringing me this far. Your body parts will be joined with brave soldiers such as these where they can be put to good use."
Tromolden speaks to a nearby orc, gesturing towards one of the tents, and they go in, only to emerge with a slab of stone, identical to the ones you found near Greensfen in the farms. It takes seven orcs to haul it out while the rest of them hold you fast. "This stone will soothe you to sleep while I prepare for your joining ceremony. Would you like to say anything before your little nap?"
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