Closer examination shows little mutation, or at least none more so than you would see in most segments of Imperial society. Their bodies are filthy, and show signs of a perilous existence, marked by scars and the occasional badly healed broken bone. They react well to the attention, and the pheromones. Aede's question brings mutterings, jabbing elbows and after a few moments (and one punch), one of the scavvies takes a couple of steps forwards, cringing servilely. "Speak. Speak ... little. Not speak ... many ... Gods-words."