A disembodied voice, feminine and small, yet strong and resolute, speaks into the featureless ether.
“Our strategy isn’t working. The Demon Prince’s plan bounds way ahead.”
A refined, musical and oddly asexual Elven voice responds.
“You are mistaken. One of my champions is on his way to recruit the legions of the Grey as we speak, while the other maintains a watch over your two.”
Two voices call out, almost simultaneously, from the mist. One deep, gruff and animalistic, the other higher pitched but just as commanding.
“And ours is returning to the Human realms to help instigate the unification of their armies.”
The first voice replies once more.
“It’s not enough. Pampered Elves, unrefined Humans and my poor, tortured Halfling champion won’t be enough. It’s time we involved the Dwarves.”
…
It’s the androgynous Elven voice that responds first, but only after a lengthy silence.
“If we must. I suppose a champion of Moradin is an acceptable alternative to recruiting an uncouth agent of Old One Eye.”
Somewhere though, in the background, a guttural and echoey laugh can be faintly heard.
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