|Nalcaros of Ebe|
Pak regards the Bard his body language difficult to read, he is a Kreen after all, "We appreciate your wise counsel in this".
The hard, black skin of the Lawkeeper's emissary glistens in the returning light of the heavens, the storm clouds having now faded and a tempered reflection of the crimson sun now returned its illumination to the late afternoon horizon.
He chuckles slightly in a highly unsettling, otherworldly register, Nalcaros' laugh resembling something like grating gravel,
"A thoroughly excellent analysis. Indeed, the intelligence which the bard has chosen to share with you conforms completely with the information I have gleaned from my own researches."
The emissary turns his head slowly to regard his present audience before continuing,
"Young brothers and sisters," he gestures expansively at the assembled company of House Vordon's representatives.
His supernatural coat of magma casts off an eerie light as its viscous surface ripples with an arresting cascade of mesmerizing, almost life-life, undulations in response to the squat creature's spreading of its hands in an ostensibly pacific gesture.
"I encourage you to make this one," he directs both hands forcibly at Slavathras, the index fingers facing one another like devil's horns rising from otherwise closed fists, "to serve as your scout and front-person in this expedition into the Riese. Perhaps he will gradually acquire a much needed measure of humility by the process of squatting low to guide you through the network of long-worked diamond veins that spiral, web like, from the factories, barracks, and storehouses of the Riese."