Two creatures, forever cycling between the phases of the 5 elements, unable to rejoin.
The unnatural offspring of a zombie father and a human mother.
The excited, almost frantic sound of a mallet instrument erupts from the forest to your left. Within minutes, your party is confronted by a host of short, sprite-like gnomes clad in vivid greens and earthy browns. Attempts to communicate fall flat. The gnomes seem to ignore your words entirely, and you cannot understand the humming/whistling/snapping that apparently makes up their language. Luckily for you and your fellows, however, they don't seem hostile . . .
A people who believe it is incredibly impolite to speak to anybody they meet for the first time. They believe their actions should speak for them until they are comfortable in each others presence and can then trust each other. Only then would converstation be appropriate.