[Drogean]

The elf laughed a short, tight, derisive laugh. He shook his head, and put on a different smile. "You are long of beard but short of memory, Dwarf. "

Drogean took a step back. For one he couldn't really see the Dwarf from where he had been standing, not much more than the length of two boots between them. Looming as he had been wasn't likely to cow the Dwarf -- if anything even could -- since to a Dwarf being taller wasn't nearly as important as it was in Elven culture. For Dwarves, more respect came from being more stout and sturdy, or so Drogean imagined.

After all, nearly anything is taller than a Dwarf, he thought.

He nearly laughed at that thought, but instead let it out as sniff, a sniff that said "Elven arrogance" more eloquently than Drogean's words could have done. Drogean took two further steps back, and studied the Dwarf -- or at least looked like he was studying the Dwarf. Then he wheeled about, and began his monologue, pacing the room as he did so.

"How I act is directly related to how much I know, and you must know very little indeed if you think I know nothing. If I did not reveal everything to you, it was only because I waited for the right moment, rather than blabbering out about everything at the beginning like a Dwarf. Now in waiting, I have given you time to explain yourself, and found your words lacking. What I see is this: you bear the same grudge as your father, and his father before him, and his father before him, who in turn had to carry the grudge given to him by his father before him. You can call it racial memory or what ever you like. Perhaps you even know what the grudge you bear Elves is about, and if that is the case, consider yourself an educated Dwarf. It should also make what I am about to explain to you easier. Now listen."

Drogean stopped pacing, he had made it back and forth across the room three times, with slow steps but a long stride. "When Zerdargia called for aid, we rushed to your side. The Druids and Rangers of Natura, the greater number of them being Elves, were at the battle, alongside the Elves of the Provincial Legion, and in the Phoenix Knights. These Elves fought, and died, for Zerdargia and Centripax." Drogean stiffened, and his face became darker, more red. "And here you," he pointed an accusing finger at the Dwarf, "you try to wipe away the memory of these defenders of Zerdargia for a.. a grudge, a memory that was never yours? For what, Dwarf? Tell me what."