Though Sbatarra would wake at the desired hour, the mists of dawn masking the sun as it first broke the horizon, it would not be from the desired internal alarm. Rather, she would suddenly hear a loud hiss and a rumbling growl, much like the sounds made by the crocodiles of the southern continents. Upon awakening, Sbatarra would find herself surrounded by lizardfolk, all of them quite heavily armed, but also looking to be quite weary. They did not make eye contact with her either; her invisibility must have not faded yet. One of them, the strongest and most experienced-looking of them all, stepped forward and took a deep, deep breath, inhaling the air of the area. He did not step into the darkness, obviously for good reason, and said to her, "Dout reputation precedes wux, ingoeth. Wer niarhaanin tells udoka di dout ability. Ihk batobot, yth tor vi totafit." His words were Draconic, and his tongue made the consonants even sharper than most others who spoke the language.<br/><br/>In one hand was a sword, one of decent length and made of obsidian, letting it take an edge so keen that no metal weapon could ever hope to achieve, thin enough at the edge to be seen through like a smoky pane of glass. It exuded a great amount of magic, most likely to help reinforce it, since any other blade so sharp and thin would shatter upon the first strike.It was held idly, his demeanor not threatening but still having about it the air of a man who had was not in the mood for either a fight or any disagreement; with his many people around him, his worrisome look was completely justified.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>