Teryus let out a low whistle.<br/><br/>"Oh, aye. Th' accent, faer starters, though I'm wot is sometimes referred tae as a "filthy southron"," he explained with a chuckle. "Southern Gilneas, bit o' a different manner of speech. 'r a lazy mouth, depends on who yae ask. Nae sae lazy when it counts." He gave her a wink and a chuckle. "As faer wot sets us apart...well, I'm a damn big fella, if I dae say sae m'self. But tha's less tae dae wit' bein' a Gilly, an' more tha' I got th' best o' both sides o' th' family tree." Another chuckle as he settled back against th' rock.<br/><br/>"Years back, when th' Scourge was th' wors' thing on Azeroth, Gilneas wi'drew from th' Alliance faer some muckity-muck political bull shite. An' our king threw up a wall tae keep th' Scourge an' th' rest o' th' feckin' "freeloaders" out." He pulled out a medium-sized, rather worn looking journal and a pencil, and began sketching in it, looking up from time to time as he went on.<br/><br/>"This didnae sit well wi' a group o' folk an' lo an' be'old, we got ourselves a feckin' civil war. An' THAT was a right mess. Tha'....well, it didn't totally settle, but got forced down to a smoulder, an' th' next thing hit." He paused in his sketching. "Yae ever 'ear o' worgen, lass?" Perhaps it could be seen as disrespectful to call a woman who was likely near or past twice his own age "lass", but there was no derision or disrespect in his tone. And far be it for him to pass up a chance to flatter such an attractive and interesting woman.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>