Ahmalg's rivals already gave her a wide berth for superstitious reasons, when they mysteriously started dropping dead members of the tribe split between shunning and appeasing her. Sensing there was more potential for things to end badly for her than good as time went on, she packed a few things in her goat's saddlebags and left for greener pastures. She discovered a hitherto unsuspected enjoyment of near solitude. She is, after all, an orc, and foisting menial tasks on others is in her nature. Banding with easily swayed mercenaries has proven her soundest stratagem. Those who can look past working with a witch of her ilk are either unscrupulous, simple, or both. With such venal companions there's no arguing about whence the coin flows, and so it tends to flow readily. Money is far from the only means of assuring loyalty however, and Ahmalg is not above drugging her allies for further compliance, among other methods. Tends to sleep in her hammock tied high in the trees wherever possible.