Mursharr runs quickly to the voices he heard and with a glance, is pleased that he made the right decision. As he gets near the gathering of voices, those in the area (presumably at least), take notice of the stranger coming in from the fields. Realizing that these individuals might think he is an enemy, Mursharr holds up his left hand with the palm open. A quick glance tells few details about this individual; however, he is on the shorter side - just over 4 1/2 feet tall - but not really built like a dwarf would be. As he moves, his dark forest green cloak moves aside enough to note the studded leathers beneath it, but the cowl remains drawn forward, hiding his face. And even his hands, the right one of which currently holds a shortbow, but no arrow, are covered in tight gloves.
"No hurt, Mursharr friend," he says. His voice is decidedly masculine, but still rather soft. "More, goblins and hobs behind Mursharr," he warns everyone, before turning himself to face the direction he came, his shortbow raising up.