Orha watched the human in silence, trying to register the dialect used. If dialect were even the term.. If the man were from Efferia, it must have been from some distant corner where the language had been so twisted that it was rendered completely apart from the standard tongue spoken by his kind.
There was no outward signs of hostility from him as he casually regarded the other's stance. The fabric draping Orha's form did not hide his height, nor the easy balance he possessed merely standing there. Only a glimpse of calf and foot where the cloak did not drape and the rest of the fabric split to the side belied his muscle tone. Though Yason were typically more slim than humans, even their soldiers tended to have more than just skin and sinew. Especially their Blast Worms.
"Do you not understand your own Human tongue?" He finally asked, his words slow and carefully chosen. "Or," he continued, audibly shifting into his native language, which seemed to flow more easily from one sound to the next, "Is even that of the Yason unknown to you?"