The man arms himself in chitin, wood, and leather; shield, spear, and javelin. A battle to be had.
"Was it another undead dragon?" He'd murmur. "What if it a straggler off what necromancers managed to escape—" He'd muse.
The 'Tigrasi moving with his tower-shield in hand, a fire burning in his soul. "Let the Kharajyr rise to the occasion— this one should let them hear the word of battles to come!" The druii sprinted off into the distance, going to grab his kin at their shore-encampment.