Inside the camp of their visitors, Ikrah was led to a tent where some of his tribesmen were being held at. There were orcs who wielded a unique type of equipment from the ones that he had seen near the gate. The orc warriors that are present surrounding the camp had large circular shields instead of the rectangular shaped ones he saw that most of their visitors wielded.

He could also make out the figure of an inward curved hacking sword on their waists and a smaller straight sword on the other side, which he suspects to be daggers. Looking down on his feet, he saw his poor legs all covered in dirt and mud unlike the warriors that stood like statues that he is seeing who wore something like an open boot on their legs which was held on their calves by leather straps which was then covered by armor on their shins.

While outside the tent, Ikrah could hear grunts of pain, which increased the nervousness that he was already feeling. His palms sweated and his heartbeat increased a notch higher as howls of pain were mixed with the grunts. The sounds he was hearing reminded him of an interrogation which they normally conduct against their foes.

Young as he might be, he has already taken part in many raids against the humans, goblins, trolls, ogres and sometimes even any other creature that they deemed a threat to their tribe like the huge arachnids of the sands to the south who once a year visits their lands. Those huge eight-legged crawlers, complete with armor, powerful pincers and a deadly sting, were just one of the many problems that they had to deal with.

Arkagarr who was guiding Ikrah around the camp, noticed his scared look and the subtle frowning of his face from the sounds that he was hearing. "Don't worry, the sounds that you are hearing are from your tribesmen whose wounds are being tended to." he assured Ikrah.

Along the harsh trainings that the warriors of Yohan were subjected to, they also learned how to treat their wounded to keep them alive and be brought back to their healers while still breathing. Raising the flaps of the tent, Ikrah saw fifteen warriors from his tribe which he easily identified as they are the only ones who are wearing a different type of clothing from the rest of those who are inside the tent.

The wounded orcs were laid down on beds covered in hay and overlayed with animal skins. Some of them are still bleeding and clutching on to their wounds while the others were now fast asleep and their wounds were covered in a piece of soft fabric, holding the medicinal paste that was applied to their wounds.

"Argh!" a Skalsser orc jolted in pain as the iron bolt that was on his abdomen was pulled out by the one tending to their wounds. "Can't you do it gently..." he complained and slowly laid back down on his back again while gritting his teeth to endure the pain.

The orc who pulled out the iron bolt glanced back at the complaining Skalsser orc and in his hands was the blood covered bolt. Smiling mischievously, he came closer to the complaining orc. "Sure... I can do that... Let me just put this back first then I will slowly and gently pull it out..." he uttered while smiling and bringing the bolt near the open wound of the complaining orc which was covered by the orc with the palm of his hands.

"Ugh... No thanks... I'll keep my mouth close now..." the Skalsser orc shook his head as he put both of his hands to cover his bleeding abdomen to block the path of the bolt less the one holding in truly inserts it back inside him. "Okay then... Glad you understand..." the orc went away and dropped the bolt inside a bowl where all the bolts that they took out from the wounded Skalsser orcs were put in.

"You want some?" the healer orc offered a bottle to the Skalsser orc. Grabbing the bottle of alcoholic drink, the wounded orc gulped down a few mouthfuls before returning it. Nodding his head, "Do it..." he muttered as he clenched his jaws to prepare for the pain.

The alcoholic drink was then poured over his wounds, which caused him to scrunch up his face in pain and a few groans escaped his lips as he endured the searing pain that was assaulting his senses.

Ikrah stared at the odd way of healing by the orcs and was about to ask Arkagarr about it when his guide beat him to it. "They are just cleaning the wound to make sure that infection in it will not happen. Don't ask me further about it, for my knowledge about this thing is only superficial." Arkagarr clarified. "And our highest ranking officer around is him. He is the one you want to talk to." he continued as he pointed a finger at the skinny orc who was applying medicine to the groaning orc.

Upon noticing Arkagarr and the one with him who was dressed the same way as the ones he was treating, Gur'kan glanced towards his assistants. "You folks takeover, I have to deal with something else." he muttered as he was fed up with the endless complaints of those who he was treating.

He truly regretted learning how to treat wounds throughly from their tribe chieftain. Of all those who showed an interest in learning it, he just had to be the one who excelled the most among his peers, which again added another responsibility to his shoulders. 

Gur'kan put his hands on an enormous pot of water to wash off all the blood that was on it. Grabbing a bottle of alcohol, he poured some of it on his hands then gulped what remains on the bottle. He wiped the corner of his lips with the back of his left hand before breathing out a tired sigh.

"Let's go somewhere else, I am fed up with the sound that these babies are making." he muttered as he walked away from the tent where the wounded orcs were being treated.