[b][h2][centre]vashthishtra silent sands. “Vashra” [/centre][/h2][/b]

Vasha nodded his head, he had picked up the gesture off others, he had learned and copied off others. That was how Vashra had adapted and learned from, so many times he learned and adapted. That was the scale folk way. They learned to live in the Morgador, they learned to travel, they learned to widen and slithering deeper and further into the lands that few others wanted or dared to travel. That suited the Scale folk just fine, very few wanted to even travel into the lands. Those who did, were far more interesting and also more dangerous. 

“You see my people. When we want you to. If you traveled to Morgador, we saw you, tracked you, but not saw us. They approach when they want, or stray too close.” He said frankly. The scale folk were a reserved group and kept to themselves, it was only those who ignored the warnings, ignored the bones set of past invaders. They could choose, the Morgador was their home, a home few others could make. 

He was frank, honest and did not hide his people's nature. The Scale folk were odd,but honest. 

“Crop Smith, adventure better, crops important but adventure  …. Good.” Vashra said with a drink of his beer, resting more casually and lower on his muscular tail, he curled about and blended in…well as best as one could be able to bend into the place full of two shod on leather and metal covers, winged and few were of genuine beast folk. “I hold my word to the clan.” Vashra met his eyes with slit eyes set in scales and a hint of fangs, the Scale folk said. He could read people, it was an essential skill to survive. 

“We stay in our lands, we not always welcomed beyond the sands and rocks. Adventure, treasure to take home, clan wealth mean better for me. Clan rise, so will all.” He said not giving too much away about their culture but explaining the rough context. “We still find things in Morgador, many secrets. You should be careful if you seek us out, let scale come first, people slow welcome into hearth..” He said with a slight hiss, it was true even after generations they still found secrets and places hidden in the land they called home. The place had been home to those of great cunning who hid their secrets well and took those of great cunning to unlock them. 

The 6th figure came with a bottle, one who seemed to bring gifts and also seemed more comfortable…a two shod always was on land of stone valleys… Vashra was not, beast folk did not venture deep into such places without reason. Scented, dressed like a smart two shod and clean. He definitely smelt of something..  different than normally he smelt in towns or out in wide lands. 

He also had a faint.. very faint sense of dust, travel or something about him. Far to faint to make any use or detail. Vashra ignored it as some random fact or a rock in the path. This group was an odd mix, but no stranger than any other caravans or groups of adventurers who wanted to delve into the lands of Morgador. Not all welcomed their guides but also few were stupid enough to go without. Well the ones that returned. 

“I Vashra, I can guide, hunt and … “ he paused seeing the symbols but they made little sense to the scale folk, he was not skilled in this… clan had many skills, but this was not his. He had seen many runes and left overs of structures still in the ruins they called home, but understood  … no. “Runes, marks, in mountains ruins, sand and stone not eaten by mountains clear blood. Dead Stone masters carve and build many thjngs. Read no.” He said, if it was of the stone masters' works, they did like to carve and their works lasted a long time. The Scale folk still live in those, reinforced by their more simple stone and earth works used as wood and other materials were harder to get on mass. They were skilled at making the best of a place where there was not much to use and local materials helped them hide their works into the environment.