Faeles stopped upon spying Clotho as she darted towards him. [color=Orange]"I had thought to save the rabbit, but now it looks as if the fire demon is the one that might need saving,"[/color] he answered Clotho's sharp inquiry with an amused tone, as if this was some sort of game.

[color=Orange]"Do you suggest that we remain hidden and let the reckless fool get himself killed?"[/color] Though the strange demon spoke with words blunt as a millstone, almost to the point of sounding sarcastic, his tone and the devious look in his eyes meant that he was considering it. Truth be told, he only cared for keeping up appearances for so long as he stayed in this 'Horde'. The fate of Torrens and D'Artagne was of little concern to him.

[color=Orange]"Or do you hope to deescalate this disaster of a scouting foray and negotiate with the orcs? That would interesting, though we would have to move quickly to salvage this situation now."[/color] The Arch-Thief cackled at the idea, looking eagerly to Clotho for her response.

Meanwhile, the tumultuous brawl inside of the orcish village stopped as soon as it began. The sudden pyroblast launched by Torrens engulfed one of the tents immediately and immolated several nearby ones purely from the resulting heat and embers. In doing so it incinerated two or three orcs that had the poor fortune of being inside the tent or too close, and it singed a dozen more. Needless to say, a wave of panic swept through what were usually ferocious warriors. Undisciplined as the orcs were, the result was utter havoc. D'Artagne might be able to simple run through the village at this point without anyone caring; the orcs had greater threats to deal with than some sort of little rabbit-man in their village.

Most of the orcs rallied and moved to sally out and meet their attacker, but others were terrified to the point that they fought their way through the surging crowds to retreat deeper into the village. Upon setting sight upon the living inferno that was Torrens, the tide of orcs that were fleeing grew somewhat greater in numbers.

Torrens would find himself soon faced with about a dozen warriors charging at him in an attempt to defend their village, heroic to the point of stupidity. Countless others poured out as well (this was no small settlement, and it seemed that nearly every orc was a warrior of some sort) though they shied back a bit, too timid to approach a fire demon.

Meanwhile, atop a nearby bluff that overlooked the way up to the village, Captain Mog suddenly awakened to a pounding headache. His head throbbed; he looked down to his horn of grog and saw the thing dry as a desert. His fellow 'watchmen' were collapsed on the ground, slumbering for their mid-watch nap. As Mog peered down to see his village on fire, he blinked several times. His rather slow mind took several seconds to process the image shown by his eyes, though in all fairness his vision was glazed and his eyes tired.

With a start, he kicked the others awake. "Bad guys! Shoot them! Shoot them! I go get shaman!" The other guards stumbled to their feet, grabbed their warbows, and arranged themselves into a line to prepare firing on those below. By that time, Mog was already sprinting like a mountain goat down a narrow dirt path that led to Gormlag's hut; the ragtag mob might fall to the burning creature that was attacking the village, but the mighty shaman would not be easily bested. He even had the power to call the king! 

[center][img]http://orig01.deviantart.net/1483/f/2012/353/8/e/orc_archers_squad_by_daroz-d5oi7u9.jpg[/img][/center]

It would be about fifteen seconds after the warriors charged at Torrens that the archers would begin to shoot. In that time, if Clotho moved she might too be seen from above and catch the attention of the archers above.