Not as nimbly footed as D'Artagnan or capable of flight like Clotho, Torrens fell to the back rank of the scouting party, scurrying around boulders to try to keep up with the rabbitfolk warrior he had put in the front of the party. In vouching for D'Artagnan, Torrens realised that he had slighted Clotho, although he had no intent to apologise. Not yet, anyway. D'Artagnan had shown himself to be surprisingly capable during the raid on the dwarves, despite his diminutive stature, and Torrens saw potential in him.

Eventually, D'Artagnan rounded a large boulder, and when Torrens reached the corner and rounded it, he saw the orc tribe. Evidence of its presence had been littered throughout the narrow valley leading up to this point, but its appearance still took him slightly by surprise, since Torrens had been travelling quickly to keep pace. He reversed back behind the boulder as quickly as he had arrived. Then, carefully this time, he poked his head around the boulder to see more clearly. It looked like a typical orc tribe. Quite flammable. He also saw the small figure of D'Artagnan, a mere blotch of fur at this distance, sneaking into the camp.

Torrens smirked, and slipped back behind the boulder. Torrens was the kind of fighter to burst in and shoot everything with reckless abandon. However, he had enough tact to know when that was not appropriate, and until D'Artagnan or one of the others alerted the orc guards Torrens would lurk by the sidelines, waiting for the right time to strike. So he settled in to watch and observe from a gap between two boulders, a location he hoped would not be too revealing of him and his incandescence.