The metallic resonance of Able's staff was simultaneous to his feet hitting the broken stone at the base the temple. The completion of his fancy walking stick hid in a sheath against his back, all but the handle covered by a large brown leather backpack. The he pet his ride's muzzle and spoke in a tongue that commanded her wait there, which she obliged and lay to rest. Out of one of her saddlebags, he pulled a wineskin attached to a bowl and set out water for her. He took long strides skipping steps with restless, travel-weary legs up to the top, only to halt at their climax and extend open, peaceful gloved hands. His staff fell and rested on his shoulder with habitual comfort.

"Eeso vahnee kunai es, gutallah" - "Salutations, strangers. Please, share this peaceful welcome."

His more eastern accent was diminished through much exposure to the world, but he held a deep voice that spoke fluently in the languages he had picked up in his travels. He wouldn't dare speak his own. Judging by these peoples' appearance, with skin much lighter than his own and their warrior appearance he spoke what he knew of the western cultures.

Next, He removed the thin veil of scarf covering his mouth and nose, letting it fall back over the shoulder of his long coat and exposing his face, the only part of him not marred with the dark ink-scars of his past. A leather cord gently looped his neck and kept his hat close as he removed that as well, exposing black hair in many small braids in a short ponytail.