Near the shores, hiding in the bush and wold, were a company of Shadecloaks, the unseen, yet highly sung of, watchers of the frontiers. Of the twenty present, ten carried bows and arrows, their other weapons sheathed and ten carried their swords, spears, maces and axes. Two more companies were in the nearby area and they were all ready to strike, for it had not been long since the announcement of the death penalty for all foreigners landing outside the port of Ŋołtʿokeq, yet in them a doubt grew.
They would retreat slightly as the ship began to make landfall and talked, communicating to the nearby companies their decision. They had never seen the flag atop the mast nor the species that was now landing...perhaps it would be best to give a warning and let them move on, no second chances later on. Once it was all decided, the leader of the company blew a horn, announcing his choice to the nearby companies with melody and his presence with might to the foreigners, springing from the nearby foliage in a slow fashion.
Tall he was, almost two metres, and of swarthy brown skin, his armour a laminated vest with padded armour and normal clothing covering the rest, a netting helmet and his faced cloaked by the infamous cape, always of shifting hue, and a dark grey kerchief covering his mouth. He approached with no weapon in hand but his bow, his sabre sheathed and his arrows inside his quiver. At first he thought of speaking Solaren to the foreigners, but in recent times it had become clear that was not the language of choice, with several arrivals speaking "Prestorean", a language he himself had learned from observing the foreigners a few months back. He then spoke, kerchief still in place and yet with a clear voice, one of authority and yet of friendly tone; waving at the surveyors with his bow from a few dozen metres away..
???: "¡Haj foreigners! Your name be spoken and your life may stay blessed."
