For this group, the Old Orc knew he could be no leader. For an Orc warband maybe, but his time had passed long ago, he had let it go. That was why without as much as a question he simply upped and followed the wizard when he regained his senses suddenly and muttered something about their destination.

However when he told the group about seeking supplies in a nearby town called Iron End the Orc knew he would be unfit for the task. His refusal was a simple shake of his head. He was more than fit to carry out a long journey with his current equipment including the sword he sheathed, for it became apparent he wasn’t going to need it. However, the hulking Orc was unlikely to be greeted any better in town than he had with the party, likely far worse, which would do their party no favours to say the least. 

Still, it was a day’s march according to the strange thin man, which was likely in pitiful human terms but regardless, time for him to think on matters before any action was required. Unique to most Orcs, Norak relished some moments of tranquillity before battle was to be joined.