"I... I can't believe it..." the lich palms his face in an analogue of weeping. "My descendants... all dead."
After a silent minute, the lich lifts his gaze to the orks.
"I have a question for you, orks. What would you do to the books and things you find?"
"Da chief sez to keep dem safe, so's once we can read 'em, we may find da secret o' magick."
"Why do your chief want to learn magic?"
"You know that us orks get food from hunts, right? Well, with da humies gone, dere's no hunt to be had, and we don't get dem farming thing. Our chief knew dat 'umie magickmen can make food with magick, so we's to look for da secret o' magick."
The lich then stroked his chin, as if there was a long, flowing beard there.
"Your tribe may have hope yet. How about this: You escort me to your chief, I'll make a deal with him."
"Wot's da deal?"
"I teach you orks magic, and other things, in return for the safety of my phylactery."
"Fillakt- fillka- wot?"
"My magic soul thingy! I can't live without it!"
"Oh, okies then."
The lich then spoke something, and the orcs now can move again.
"Now tell me, dear orcs, where is your village?"
"Uh, a bit east to the village, why ya ask-"
In a blip of light, the lich and the orcs, along with the entire tower, teleported out of view.