Debra
Nestled at the Eastern border of the Greenheart Forest, the town of Girian was no stranger to travelers; many folks rested and resupplied here before continuing their various journeys elsewhere. On this morning, however, the town was visited by a particularly unique individual: a member of the elusive dryads. She had emerged from the shadowy treeline during the grey hours of dawn; the bakers had already been up for a few hours, and the rest of the townsfolk were still asleep in their beds. No one took note of her presence until people were greeted with an unusual sight: the dryad, standing in the middle of town square while marveling at a decorative fountain.

Her appearance took after a sunflower, obvious by the distinctive yellow petals growing from her head, and the deep green leaves wrapped modestly along her slender body. Her skin, pale green and pliant, was eerily smooth to the touch - and her large yellow eyes absorbed everything they saw with glee. Pushing the petals away from her face was a leaf-woven headband, and small flowers were arranged along her shoulders as sweetly-scented decorations.

Still admiring the tiered fountain, the dryad seemed almost entranced by the clear water bubbling up the top, and how it overflowed and collected in the bottom basin. She dipped an experimental finger into the water, and giggled in delight at the silky sensation of it before her hand retreated. 

"*Nim'nim raki!*" She said with a smile, her Sylvan impeccable and voice melodic. All of her focus was trained on this construct of civilization, and she did not care about the stares she was receiving from the townspeople going about their lives.

Translation: || Weird rock! ||
Edward
*Apprehension by any other name, Nargul kept his eyes on a slow swivel under an unmoving hood. A stiff neck seemed poised for trouble as he moved through the streets, anticipating more problems. He needed some supplies before he tread into Gantrick, and here was the last stop; that it was that it was still the heart of enemy territory gave a sour humor to it all. The hulking figure was mostly hidden, though there was no shrinking Nargul's silhouette, nor the massive wolf at his side. Eyes were drawn to them in passing, and quickly diverted- but Nargul refused to raise tensions by returning the looks directly.*

*He looked around as subtly as ever, working to avoid the presence of the branch-heads he's heard so much about- mainly out of speculation that a conflict would turn to a catastrophe out of misplaced chivalry and a fatal misunderstanding. But then, Nargul and Lohmar saw something uncanny for this little etching of civilization. Beholding a bewildering spirit, Nargul actually paused, turning to peer at the Dryad. An outsider as well, though likely not so poorly received.*
Gary
*The wolf besides was a massive thing. A mane of orange, amber, and black furs with the small white stripes seemed like a portrait of fall in fur, or else a flag of Dasvaz. Another strike against the Orc by association in this place. It was sized similarly to a small horse, before it inclined its head at the spirit and rose it once more - a gesture of recognition, perhaps?*

*Otherwise, it wore a strange amulet, a symbol of a god for which the Dryad likely spares few thoughts: Anthron. But, it was made of wood, and carved exceptionally well, something the wolf surely didn't do itself. A whittling knife sat at the Orc's waist, if Nura so peered there once she noticed the odd duo looking her way.*
Edward
"How did you find yourself here, Spirit?" *The Orc spoke with a low, rumbling voice. It wasn't sharp in affect, almost appreciably soft.*
Debra
The plantlike being turned at his question, blinking owlishly; first at the towering orc, then at the great beast to his side. Then she leaned towards them slightly, tilting her head with a curious hum as she studied the duo. Her vibrant petals and verdant green clothes rustled with her movement; a pleasant, floral aroma wafting from her like that of a meadow.

"*Miv sa Nura, ji'entar! Kor'avi sashu ar jotogek - vivek wukan'ri, iresmi ahiri! Osetra, sa anim Sylvan chispora? Ku shuni'tenka gamdu iresmoni Common, miv sa japuko... Oh, aan ku pamo ino.*"

She spoke in a friendly, lilting tone, pointing at the massive Greenheart Forest just outside the city limits behind her. Then, she straightened her posture and made a slow sweeping gesture at the orc and his wolf - a polite, nonverbal *Your turn to speak*.

Translation: || "I'm Nura, greetings! You two are giant - reminiscent of wild, tall trees! Wait, do you speak Sylvan very well? I don't know much Common, I'm new at this... Oh, and I live there." ||
Edward
*He let out a blusterous guffaw through pursed lips at the perfectly spoken Sylvan. He couldn't understand a word- save for 'Common', but interpreted by intuition that the spirit didn't share a language with him. He didn't even want to try Orcish - not here, while eyes and ears wandered and waited for the smallest reason to have a problem with him. Returning to a more stony visage, he rolls his shoulders back, laying off the sword and pack from one side as he sets them aside, leaning against the fountain as he sat near the edge of it.*

*Pointing at himself, and Lohmar, he just speaks a handful of words.* "Common, Orcish. No Sylvan." *But otherwise - he was curious enough of the spirit to try and communicate with a more universal language. He took out a sizable sack from his side, well-kept and covered containers within each holding petrified knots of trees of various species. All, to the Sylvan's senses, having died naturally and been collected. Some of them were in the process of being carved, resembling figurines and interpretations of the gods and goddesses of this world. Some, even, may be familiar to Nura- at her interpretation.*

*Nargul holds out a pale knot of wood, likely a burl collected from one that died a long while ago. It was hardy and beautiful, whorls of decades held within, as Lohmar for the time being sat next to the Orc and peered about, keeping an eye for trouble.*

*He held it out to Nura, nodding.* "Show me. Shape like home. Your land. Your god. I will keep." *He tried, slowly, to enunciate meaning into terms she'd likely had heard before in Common, avoiding anything metaphorical as best as he could.*
Gary
*The great beast, however, seemed to gaze more curiously at the Dryad by the moment, before wincing one side of his muzzle and letting out a sneeze. Likely a new scent or something ticklish from her myriad of leaves and materials.*

*But, a single flap of his tail against the stone indicated he wasn't too displeased by her.*