Durga didn't know this, but she was laying in none other than Motark's tent. Her blurry eyes and frazzled vision kept almost all of the details away from her, but the tent was extremely spacious. The whole thing was split in half, with one being Motark's private quarters, and the other half being his throne room. Both sides were separated by a wall of fabric, accessible via a slit.
Motark's private quarters were as lavishly furnished as a tribal orc could get. Countless trophies of war, various beast skulls, and masterfully crafted weapons all adorned the walls. Light came from a ball of illumination, floating at the very top and providing comfortable, even lighting in the room. The floor, including the section Durga was laid out on, was covered almost entirely in comfortable furs.
Fortunately, she just so happened to vomit in a clear spot.
Motark himself was seated in front of the fireplace, facing away from her. Once she stirred, though, he took notice.
"Oh, good. You're awake," he said in his shaky common.
"How's the head?"