Porcupine Ridge ishkitu-niqaru

Gibberish. Hex was more or less patient with those who spoke a different tongue; perhaps they could come to an understanding in some way. But that patience wore thin when it came to someone trespassing on his land without permission or request.

I don't know a single word you just said, he went on through slightly gritted teeth, and if you don't tell me—in my words—why you're here, I'm gonna have to kick your ass out.

His tail was beginning to lash behind him in tall, dark arcs, and a call to his warriors was burning at the base of his throat, ready to be released. 

Though he had to admit, the man was showing the telltale signs of respect. Hex jerked his chin in gesture behind him. You want to stay here? he asked, drawing out each word for better comprehension. Stay. . .here?

Evidently not, as the man eventually dispersed. Shrugging, Hex returned to his post.