The advisor watched the receding dwarf ambassadors for a long while. Now, they were all but tiny specks in the distance. "The dwarves will not help us, despite what they say." He stated.
"I know. The Stonehammers were ever a duplicitous lot, but ever since the younger one died..." She trailed off, her thoughts taking too many directions. "This 'ambassador' that Stonehammer sent fairly stank of ogre and orc."
"Something isn't right in Derkenwold." Finished the advisor.
"Ah-norya." Agreed the young principal. "And we're no match for these gargun that rain death upon Ahmdelarden."
"These are not normal gargun." The advisor suggested. "Too...organized. Too...intelligent."
"An-norya."
"How fares Barranden, ye think?"
"Better than we." She answered. "They are not so close to the mountains, so the gargun can't reach them quite as readily. Even with Derkenwold's help."
"My grandfather would have called upon the Kharan'Juhl." Mused the advisor. "A single one of them could be enough to throw back the tide."
"The Kharan'Juhl are long dead and dust." Replied the principal tartly. "We are on our own today...but to do what, exactly?" A lonely tear rolled down the elf woman's cheeck as she surveyed the make-shift hospital that her home had become.