>>5407985>>5407989>>5408097>>5408191>>5408197>>5408202>>5408227>>5408352“You are wrong,” you respond.
“What?” the Throat-singer asks, confused. “The dwarves are slaves, the elves are partners. It’s obvious—”
“Not that,” you interrupt, your tone revealing more agitation than you’d intended—more than you even realized you were feeling. “You are wrong about DAVORA.”
The Throat-singer, not privy to your inner thoughts, stares in confusion, but falls silent.
“She wass not a fool,” you assert. “I offered the dwarves of Blackmantle compromise, of a ssort… But your race hass pledged their loyalty to your ‘Mountain King’, a God of Light… One of the very godss who brought down and ended the age of my anccestorss. Your people ally with humans, and are a risssk for leaksss… While the Drow are isolated. They dwell in the dark, they have forsworn their godsss… The share my race’sss enemies… And they have shown a desire for cooperation, rather than dwarven sstubbornnessss.”
“…So it’s convenience, then?” Karz Throat-singer mutters. “Or that you think you can manipulate them better…”
“Wrong. You udnerssstand nothing.”
Karz looks you in the eye, defiant in his confusion. You soften your tone, just a little.
“I am not a creature without compassion, Throat-ssinger. My race can feel.”
You struggle to speak the next words, for they ARE, in fact, anathema to your culture. To say it aloud is tantamount to an admission of weakness. But…
“I have not forgotten Davora’ss ssacrifice,” you admit. “I mourn her sstill. I CAN mourn, dwarf. I missss her.”
Karz says nothing. In all probability, by the genuine shock in his expression, tinged with lingering skepticism, he doesn’t know what to say. You’d guess he’s trying to parse out of this is a test of his intelligence, his sense.
“Your race… Mammalian racesss in general… They are not without worth. I ssee a vision of the future in which the dwarvesss, too, have a role. Equal to the elvesss… And not as sslavesss, but as true membersss of that ssociety.”
Karz stares.
“I mean it,” you reiterate. “Thisss iss the truth, to which we sstrive. When you grow sstronger, when you ssserve thisss causse… You sserve your people, alssso.”
Karz bows his head, acknowledging your words without argument. You can tell he seems… Troubled, in some queer fashion. Your words have rattled him. You aren’t sure you understand why. It was a difficult and upsetting conversation for YOU, in some ways—dredging up memories, regrets, making you again confront your own misgivings about your savage surface campaign and Davora’s death. Why is HE upset, though? Is this not what the Throat-singer should have WISHED to hear?
