When boredom sets in, two things usually follow. One, the things that occurs most of the time, is nothing. Occasionally, it's Armageddon. This time, contrary to all expectations, it's just the beat of silent wings. What that foretells, Deresk does not know, but his prior quiet, complacent watch is interrupted, and now is the time for action.
In the tribe, the natural thing to do would be to yell and charge, and then hope the rest would follow. Unpopular watchmen usually found themselves fighting alone. Deresk has learned caution, however, so rather than go investigating, he'll first have to tread through another, less certain foe.
The humans in the tavern will be hostile, though whether it'll be cold shoulders or cold steel is matter for the spirits. Nonetheless, he finds himself with few alternatives, so with the little time he has, he makes himself as unthreatening as possible. He tightens the leather covering of his axe so it looks more like a staff, he raises his deer skull hood so more of his face shows, and walks with a less hunched manner, despite the damage that will invariably do to his spine. Thus prepared, he enters the heat of the inside, looking for his partners.
Walking with his axe staff, he finds L'lef and Corynn in the heat of the inn. The smell of meat and beer sends his stomach growling, and he can't help but grab an unattended leg of mutton and a stein of ale as he settles down. Such is his hunger he actually takes a bite and a swallow before beginning his tale.
"Alright, lads," he begins softly in his gruff orcish voice. "Our visitor from before has returned. The winged creature, bird or beast I can't tell. But his shadows fallen over the village. Best be prepared, I'd say."