The crone smiles her senile smile and nods vigorously as the orc addresses her, "My master is kind to address old Nurse, this one is not worthy of the honor. Shaman, witch, seer, mystic, Nurse has worn all these hats, she has, but my Mistress now sees fit to have Nurse helping in the kitchens."
Stumbling and spilling her possessions everywhere, Nurse hunches down as she begins picking up her belongings. Looking about as though she is about to give away the secret routes to the treasure of a life time, she lowers her voice to a barely audible whisper, "As to this one's clan, Nurse does not no my Master. This one was separated from others of her kind as a child and sold from one Master to another time and time again. For longer than this one can recall I have been in service to one manner of being or another, and have been away from our people so long this one does not even speak the tongue any longer." As she tells this sad tale, her eyes begin to mist as the memories flood her senses. With a sniffle, she stacks the last of her gear back in place and strains to stand before giving a short cackle and continue her gait back to her hovel, "Listen to this one going on about the past like it makes a lick of difference now. Nurse has lived longer than most of her people, but if Gruumsh wills it, this one will not flee from his beckon call."