 the Dura to come join them, then began introducing them to the host.  He learned that the squad leader was named Jurax, and though the Dwarf was understandably cautious, he was also curious and rather amiable.  He met with the humans and the Elara and the Selani and the Vendari and the other, more exotic races with guarded yet sincere hospitality.  The other Dwarves seemed similar to Jurax, a bit wary of the outsiders, yet sincerely curious about them.  These Dwarves werent openly hostile to outsiders as he thought he they might have been, given their war against the One; perhaps even the solitary Dwarves understood the need for allies against such a dangerous enemy, and though they were new, these strangers were obviously allies.  The presence of the Elara proved that much, for they were a race that the Dwarves knew, a race that was also locked in a battle with the One.  It was a bit odd to see them to Tarrin, and he felt a strange satisfaction as Jurax shook Binters hand; the Dwarf didnt even come up to Binters thigh.
	The runner returned with three Dwarves with graying beards and hair, wearing odd triangular surcoats over their plate armor.  The had three triangles arranged in a pyarmid, with a red square in the center; it was some kind of crest or symbol with which Tarrin was unfamiliar.  Each of them carried an ornate, heavy warhammer, and shields were strapped to their backs.  Jurax rushed over to them and quickly conferred with them, then they approached Tarrin.  Lieutenant Jurax said that ye have some critical information for the Dain, one of them, the tallest who had a scar over his left eye, said to Tarrin.  He also said ye have some rather wild things to say, he added.  But he vouches fer ye.  Ifn yed follow us, the Dain awaits ye.
	Tarrin nodded.  Lead on.

	The mountain fortress of the Dura was nothing like what Tarrin would have imagined.  Theyd been led in through the massive doors with about two hundred Dwarven warriors discreetly guarding them, and when they passed through that vaulted passageway, it was like stepping into another world.
	The mountain in which the Dura lived was hollow.
	It was obvious that over centuries, the Dura had systematically dug out the insides of the mountain to create absolutely immense chambers, or galleries, in which the Dura had constructed their city.  And it was a city in every sense of the word, for the Dura had built buildings within the vast open space inside their mountain.  Temples, warehouses, homes, shops, they were all here, lining streets that were neatly paved with meticulously shaped, perfectly square cobblestones.  That they would pave a street which was made of bare rock boggled Tarrins mind for a while, but then he realized that they had paved it simply because it should be paved.  That, and cobblestones were easier to replace than a bare rock floor, as the passing of millions of shodden Dwarven feet wore away the very rock floor on which they traveled.
	The city of the Dura was split into four main galleries, each of which was half of the mountain with monstrous pillars and buttresses vaulting up from the floor to support the mountains peak above.  Two galleries were on the level with the doors, and two more galleries had been carved out above the first, higher up in the mountains peak.  The lower galleries were separated by a massive wall that ran right down the middle of the mountain, which was pierced by a single massive and heavily fortified gate.  Tarrin and his friends got to see all four galleries as they were escorted into the mountain fortress of the Dura, going through both lower galleries, and then ascending a large, gently sloping ramp that curled around the back edge of the second gallery, ascending into the third gallery above.  The top of that ramp didnt end with a gate, but a monstrous stone block attached to chains in the wall, so huge that it would take an incredible amount of effort just to move it.  That cap would lower onto the floor of the third gallery and block the ramp, which provided an absolutely ingenious and devastatingly simple method to stop any progress past the ramp.  Any attempt to push that cap out of the way would require a herculean effort, and the smooth ramp would force that effort to be applied uphill, causing gravity itself to work in the favor of the defenders.  The buildings in the upper gallery were larger, more ornate, but the presence of fortification here was just as prevelent as it was below, and the buildings of the fourth gallery were all huge, hinting that this was where the Dwarven nobility and the most important members of their society lived.
	It was then that Tarrin understood the layout of the Duras city.  Each gallery was a chokepoint, and it was separated from the others by a single gate, which was much easier to defend.  He knew then that the fourth, final gallery would hold all the Duras most important people and objects, for it would require any invader to breach all three of the other galleries in order to reach the last.  It gave the Dura three heavily reinforced and defensible chokepoints to stop any invasion, given that an invading force managed to breach the outer door.  And getting past the cap that would block the ramp to the third gallery would take a tactical genius.  A very effective yet simple layout that provided maximum defense with minimum risk to the defenders.  Any invader would have to fight five separate wars to conquer the Dura, one for each area the Dura could defend.  And if these Dura were anything like their Duthak ancestors, any invading force would be facing an army of powerful, tough, and formidable warriors.
	Tarrin could see Kangs approval of their design all over his face as they moved towards a huge citadel built inside the mountain, made of shining white stone.  He kept looking around and nodding, his mind working as he took in the Duras fortifications, and he knew that a part of Kangs mind was already at work on how he would breach those defenses, were he assaulting this place.  Not that he ever would, but Kang was that kind of general, always thinking, always improving.
	A question, Lord Tarrin, Jurax asked politely.
	Tarrin chuckled.  Just Tarrin, Lieutenant, he answered.
	Do only the males of your kind have wings? he asked.  I saw your wife and her friend over there.
	Tarrin glanced at Mist and Kimmie, then chuckled again.  Were not supposed to have wings at all, he answered honestly.  My wings are the result of what you might call a magical accident.  As Im sure youve noticed, theyre not real wings, but creations of magic.  But theyre a part of me nowand believe me, theyre more of a curse than they are a blessing, he said in a distant, weary tone.
	Why is that?  It seems they help you do that magic I saw you do.
	They do, he admitted.  But theyre not worth the price I had to pay for them.
	Ah.  And Jurax delicately let the matter drop.
	They were led to that citadel, where their Pegasi were taken by young Dwarf men and women wearing livery with that same crest on it, and then uniformed pages guided them into the keep itself.  They walked along a grand hallway lined with detailed sculptures of male and female Dwarves, all in plate armor, all holding the same ornate double-headed battle axe.  These were statues of past Dains, he realized.
	They were brought to an antechamber, where more servants politely demanded that they surrender their weaponry, servants who spoke to them in Penali.  Everyone complied with the request, though a few werent exactly thrilled with that idea.  After they were all disarmed, they were brought into a huge chamber which whose walls were lined with swords, axes, hammers, shields, and crests on large tapestries, and a few of them Tarrin recognizedthey were the family crests of some of the Dwarven nobles from back home.  The room was filled with Dwarves, all of them wearing either plate armor or mail shirts and all unarmed, but none of them could block Tarrins view of the back of the room, which held a dais and a large stone throne chiseled from the dais itself, upon which sat a Dwarf male with coal black hair, and a thick beard tied into two tails under his chin.  He wore a mail shirt instead of plate armor, with black leggings underneath them, and a large battle axe was hanging by a loop on a peg on the side of the thrones back.
	These were, without any doubt whatsoever, the descendants of the Dwarves of Sennadar.
	The Dwarves in the room stared at them all with unabashed curiosity and suspicion.  Tarrin wasnt the only one to receive such stares, either.  Ariana and Anayi were scrutinized, as were all the Vendari and the Selani as they filed into the back of the room, awaiting a formal announcement of their presence.  Miranda seemed to attract an inordinate amount of attention, as did his mate and Kimmie, but the humans among them, Lorak, and Haley did not, nor did Camara and Koran Tal, who, despite their height and odd copper coloring, were still humans.  Not only were these visitors not Dwarves, but they were alien races that none of the Dura had ever seen before, and they were the absolute focus of all attention in the room.
	A chamberlain rapped a stone staff on the floor sharply.  By the will of the Dain, I present emissaries of the Shadows to bring information of the southlands, the chamberlain boomed in a deep voice, speaking in flawless Penali.  Lord Tarrin, leader of the complement of Shadows, asks audience with Dain Darax o the Dura!
	Step forward, the Dain called in Penali, in a surprisingly young voice.  This Dain wasnt long on his throne, that was for sure.
	Tarrin immediately stepped forward, as did Lorak.  They walked towards the dais, and when they got within about ten spans of it, at the edge of the Dwarves, who all stared at Tarrin in awe, they stopped.  Lorak bowed.
	Tarrin did not.
	Tarrins eyes were locked on this young Dwarf who was the leader of his people, studying him with eyes that could see more than just what was on the outside.  He was young, but he was also wise and cautious.  He had the spirit of a true leader, and would not rush to judgement.  This was a leader that Tarrin felt would listen. He may not act in the way that Tarrin would prefer, but he would listen to what he had to say, he would give his words weight and ponder them.  That would be enough, at least for now.
	Just as Dwarven voices began to mutter in accusing tones at Tarrins lack of respect, the Were-cat bent at the waist and put a fist over his heart, then bowed to the Dain ever so slightly.
	Do you want to start, Lorak? Tarrin asked.
	I think youd better.  Ill just confirm what you say, the Elara replied.  Youll have better luck getting them to believe us.
	Tarrin nodded, then turned to look at the Dain, who was now sitting up on his throne attentatively.  What news do you bring from the southern lands, agents of the Shadows? he asked.
	The Shadows are gone, Tarrin stated flatly, immediately getting that out of the way, which caused a collective gasp through the hall.  Im sure you got some fractured communications from them before the end.
	The Dain frowned.  As a matter of fact, we did, he admitted.  Just a few quick messages stating that the Shadows were moving towards us, seeking a place to regroup.
	Forget it.  Theyll never get here, Tarrin told him.  Which brings us to the news that matters.  He shivered his wings, slashing his tail back and forth a few times before continuing, then fixed the Dain with a cold, piercing stare.  Right now, the Ones armies are marching through the mountain passes, and theyre coming to destroy you, Dain.  We counted at least fifty thousand men, and more are marching north from the lands of the One.
	The Dain waved his hand dismissively.  Weve crushed bigger armies than that the Ones thrown at us, he told them.  I can put a hundred thousand men on the field, Master Tarrin.  Theyve yet to reach the mountain gate.
	I can see now that youre feeling contentious, Dain, so let me get to the point, Tarrin stated bluntly, which made the Dain scowl somewhat at him.  The One has summoned a Demon Lord into this world.  Do you know what a Demon Lord is, Dain?
	That caused some nervous whispers to ripple through the hall.  I seem to recall some schooling on the subject, he answered.  The nobles of Demons, if I remember.
	Thats putting it very, very mildly, Tarrin snorted.  Demon Lords can summon every Demon that they command at any time.  That means that right now, theres an army of hundreds of thousands of Demons to the south.  As soon as that Demon Lord gets them organized and he destroys the One, hes going to unleash them upon this world.  When that happens, everything and everyone, even the Dura, will be destroyed.
	That caused a sudden firestorm of yelling and shouting, mostly curses and statements of incredulity aimed at Tarrin.  The Dain gave him a cold stare, but could not meet the gaze of the Were-cat for long enough to look very intimidating.  Brash words, Darax growled at him.  Be it humans or Demons, my armies can hold the Iron Mountain against any challenge.  And what makes you think that this Demon can destroy the One?
	Tarrin glanced at one of the Dwarves close to him, sneering at him that he was a gutless pig for insulting the Dura, but a single flat stare cowed the mail-clad Dwarf immediately.
	Dear one, I think you take the wrong tack, Dolanna said quickly, stepping forward.  Please excuse my interruption, Dain Darax, but my large companion tends to speak of conclusion without suitably explaining the conditions.  She put a hand on Tarrins side, and the Were-cat nodded his head to her and stepped back.  My companion does speak the truth, Dain Darax.  The One, in an act of desperation, has summoned forth a Demon Lord in hopes that the creature can help protect him while he recovers from a battle against an opposing force, who very nearly destroyed him.  What he does not understand is that this creature, this Demon Lord, is even stronger than he is, and its only objective now that it has been brought into the mortal world is to destroy all that stands and conquer this world, to add it to the material planes held by the Demons.  It will pretend to cooperate with the One until it is strong enough to destroy him, and then it will unleash its Demonic horde upon the world with the intent of destroying absolutely everything that lives, even down to the last insect.
	I fear that there is nothing in this world that can oppose the might of a Demon Lord except for a god, she told him gravely.  And because of the Ones crusade to destroy all who oppose him and eradicate all that is not human, there is no god left in this world with the strength to defeat the Demon Lord that the One has so recklessly brought into being.  Unfortunately, right now the success of the Demon Lord in his mission is all but assured.  No one on Pyrosia can stand up to him, and he and his Demons will sweep forth from the ruins of Pyros and devastate the land.
	She sighed.  Dain Darax, we have come to warn you of this gravest of threats, and to offer to you a means of escape from this fate.  Among us are accomplished users of magic who can effect a way to transport your entire population to a place of safety.  This offer we bring to you, as we shall also present to the Elara and any humans who seek to flee from this doomed world.  Believe my words or discount them, but know that we are deadly serious about this, and in seven days time, we shall flee this world ourselves.  When we are gone, any chance of escape from the Demon Lord once he destroys the One shall not be possible.  Those left behind shall inevitably be doomed.
	Ye are right, my Lady, the Dain said after a long moment of contemplation, which passed as the Dwarves in the hall whispered furiously to one another.  Yer winged friend does tend to skip the details.  Now I understand your reasoning a bit better, but I still see no danger here to me people.  No force can penetrate the Iron Mountain.  We will simply bar the doors and seal them and wait for the Demons to leave.  I appreciate how serious ye think the threat of this Demon Lord is, but I dont see how it can be any more dangerous than the One.  The power of Dumathoin protects the Iron Mountain.  So long as our god protects us, were all but untouchable within the safety of the Iron Mountain.  He looked to Lorak.  Have the Elara yet heard of this?
	Lorak shook his head.  Ive not had the time to warn them, your Majesty, he answered.  Thats one of the things we intend to do here.  I cant speak for my King, but I personally do not wish to leave.  Even if it means my death, I would stand and fight against the approaching darkness.
	Honorable, Binter murmured.
	Quite, Var agreed with a nod.
	Youre being stubborn, Darax, Tarrin snorted, crossing his arms.
	Dear one Dolanna began, but Tarrin held up a single finger to quiet her, raised from the crook of his elbow.
	You shall address the Dain as Dain or your Majesty, the Chamberlain said in a scandalized tone.
	Why?  I see nothing before me that warrants that kind of respect, Tarrin stated with narrowed eyes.
	That caused a firestorm of shouting and curses levelled at Tarrin, and the Dains strong-boned faced flushed red.  I could have you executed for that, he warned with a hiss.
	You could certainly try, Tarrin returned, taking two steps forward.
	Dear one, this is not the time Dolanna urged in a strong voice, but she fell silent when he shot her a withering stare over his shoulder.
	You have no idea who you are, or how you came to be here, do you? Tarrin snapped at the Dain.  Dont you keep records?  Dont you know where you came from?  If you did, you certainly wouldnt blow us off so quickly.  Tell me, Dain Darax, where did the Dura come from?
	What kind of senseless question is that? he demanded.
	Its not senseless at all if you know the answer, Tarrin growled as Dolannas eyes lit up, and both Kimmie and Miranda smiled and started nodding emphatically.  They knew exactly where here was going to go.  Clan Argak.  Clan Mizkun.  Clan Vorxin.  Clan Uthen, Tarrin began, pointing at the tapestries on the wall and reciting the names those crests represented.  Clan Twinaxe.  Clan Thorm.  Clan Bloodblade.  All of them ancient bloodlines that stretch back into the mists of antiquity.  Do you know where they came from?  Do you know why every single one carries the triangle in the center of its crest?
	I am not a sage of ancient lore, Dain Darax said quickly.
	You should be, Tarrin told him bluntly.  If you knew where you came from and how you got here, youd be ordering the immediate evacuation of your Iron Mountain.
	Prepostrous, he said hotly.
	Is it?  Do you want to know where you came from, Dain Darax of the Stoneaxe Clan? he asked, switching to Duthak, which made Darax gasp and stare at him in shock.  Do you want to know how the Dura ended up in the Iron Mountain?  Do you want to know why he said, reaching behind his backtheres an imitation of this hanging on a peg from your throne?
	Tarrin pulled forth the Axe of the Dwarven King from the elsewhere, shining in the lights of the torches hanging from the walls, and he tossed it onto the dais of the Dain of the Dura contemptuously.  It made a sweet, chiming clang as it bounced off the stone, then slid to a stop literally at the feet of the Dain.
	Dain Darax stared at the axe in curiosity, and then, when he looked closer at it, the disbelief started to register in his eyes.
	Thats right.  Its the axe of the Dains.  The orginal.  Now ask me how I got it.  Ask me how I speak Duthak.  Ask me where I come from.  And after I give you those answers, look into my eyes and tell me you believe the Dura will be safe within the Iron Mountain.
	Holy Dumathoin, its real, one of the Dains advisors said reverently after he rushed over and inspected the weapon.  Its a mirror image of the Axe of the Dains!
	How did you come to possess this, this, this imitation of the axe of the Dains, creature? Darax demanded in an outraged tone.
	Yours is the imitation, he said scathingly.  This is the original.  Your ancestors simply made a copy of it when you settled here, because this one was lost to you.
	I find that hard to believe.  This axe was said to have come to us from Dumathoin himself, a gift laying on the slopes of the Iron Mountain when our ancestors first arrived from our long journey from a distant land, seeking out the song of the stone that drew them to the Iron Mountain.
	So you only know a little of the truth, Tarrin told him, drawing himself up.  Very well.  I think its time for a history lesson.
	Carefully, dear one, Dolanna warned.
	Ill be gentle, Dolanna, Tarrin assured her with a nod.  Darax, the Dura were originally called the Duthak, he began.  Your people came here from my homeland, Sennadar, fleeing exactly what is about to happen here.  You left your homeland over five thousand years ago, and over the march of time, youve forgotten where you come from.  Well, Im here to offer to take you home, to where you began.
	Impossible.  The stone of the Iron Mountain forms the bones within us.  We are as much a part of the mountain as the stone under my feet, he said flintily.
	Really? Tarrin asked archly.  Then how do I know so much about you?
	Magic, he replied.  Judging from those magical constructs stuck to your back, Id be marking you as a powerful magician.  Or maybe a Demon, or an agent of a god like the One.  Any one of those could easily use magic to learn those things.  After all, theyre a simple matter of recorded history.
	Fine, then, Tarrin said.  Do your ancient writings mention the katzh-dashi?
	That made Daraxs black eyebrow raise.  The Damned?  Aye, theres writings about them.  They betrayed the Dura after we came to the Iron Mountain, after the Keeper of Secrets Under the Mountain found their hearts impure and commanded us to cast them out.  They tried to turn us away from our god, so we exiled them from us.
	Tarrin frowned deeply.  The Duthak turned on the Sorcerers? he asked in surprise.  After they brought you to this world, saved your race from extinction?
	The Keeper of Secrets Under the Mountain doesnt tolerate blasphemy, Darax said arrogantly.  The Damned tried to draw us away from our god.  We did only what needed to be done with heretics.
	Tarrins eyes narrowed.  Dumathoin, eh?  I can sense him within the bounds of this hall.  Hes afraid to come any closer to me, he said absently.  Right now hes beggin me not to lose my temper and take your head off in a bout of pique.  Usually I try to keep myself from killing the ruler of a group of people Ive journeyed halfway across the world to visit, but I have to admit, your attitude is making me sorely tempted.
	My attitude? Darax said in surprise.
	Any mortal who dares to believe he knows the mind of his god is just begging for some remedial education, Tarrin said flatly.  Not to mention your god is getting annoyed with your lack of an open mind.  He thinks youre going out of your way not to allow yourself to consider the possibility that what Im saying might be true.
	And what of ye?  Pretending to hear the song of stone, pretending to hear the voice of Dumathoin? he retorted.  Where is that promised punishment?  It would surely come to ye first!
	Tarrin didnt listen to him, for his mind was distracted by a different voice, one that Darax could not hear.  I, see, he said.  Dumathoin admits that he caused you to split from the katzh-dashi, but that was because they wanted to leave the mountains, and Dumathoin thought it was safer here.  Humans just werent meant to live undergroundthe katzh-dashi longed for the sunlight and the wind on their faces, and left the Iron Mountain in search of a distant place, away from the One, that they could call their own.  He also says that the parting was amicable, that you and the Sorcerers kept in communication until the One destroyed their colony on Auromar.  It turns out Dumathoin had been right about that, I guess.  After all, theyre all dead, and youre still alive.
	Charlatan! Darax snapped as an angry wave of muttering passed through the hall.  Blasphemer!
	I dont worship your god, so it cant be blasphemy, Tarrin snorted dismissively.  Heresy maybe, but not blashphemy.  If youre going to call me names, at least get it right.
	Darax spluttered incoherently, then stiffened and stood up, almost stepping on the axe.  I wont tolerate any more of this blasphemy!  Guards, take this, thing, into custody immediately!
	No! one of the Dwarves standing to the side of the dais said quickly.  No, me Dain!  The Keeper of Secrets Under the Mountain wishes ye to hear this one out!  I hear his voice singin through the stone!
	Are ye sure, High Augur?
	Im positive, yer Majesty, he answered.  Holy Dumathoins voice tells me that yon creature has something important to say, something that ye must hear.
	There, if you wont listen to me, listen to Dumathoin, Tarrin told him flatly, seeing the play of disbelief on the Dains face, which quickly became dubious speculation.  Dumathoin knows whats coming.  All the gods do.  None of them would allow any of their followers to ignore me, not over something like this.  Isnt that right, High Augur? he asked, looking at the Dwarf.
	The gray-clad Dwarf closed his eyes and almost seemed to rock back and forth for a moment, then he opened his eyes again and nodded vigorously, his face ashen.
	I, I bow to the word of Dumathoin, then, the Dain said hesitantly.  Very well, creature.  Say what ye must say to me, so I might hear these words and understand why theyre so important.
	Tarrin paused briefly to look at Darax, at the aura surrounding him, and found it more receptive to listening.  So he began.  We had a war on Sennadar over five thousand years ago, called the Blood War.  It happened when a god summoned a Demon Lord into our world.  That Demon Lord and his horde of Demon servants very nearly destroyed the entire world before all the peoples of the world rose up to defend the land, including the Duthak, the ancestors of the Dura.  During the course of that war, the Duthak were almost entirely destroyed.  We thought they were killed to the last man, woman, and child until we discovered that a small group of Duthak had managed to flee to this place, to Pyrosia, in the company of a small group of katzh-dashi who had accompanied them to protect them.  You, Darax, and all of you here, and the long-lost descendents of the Duthak, lost for over five thousand years.
	And that is originally why I came here.  I have been sent here by the god you once worshipped, Clangeddin, to find you and to offer you a chance to return to the lands of your ancestors.  But now things are different.  The One has summoned a Demon Lord to this world, and now its all happening again.  Theres going to be another Blood War, another war that could eradicate all life on this world, and I will not allow you to simply close up your doors and believe in blissful ignorance that a few hundred spans of solid rock is going to stop the Demons.  They found all the cities of the Duthak on Sennadar, some longspans under the ground, and they totally destroyed them.  Your ancestors sacrificed everything to defend Sennadar, to give you, their last descendants, a chance to flee to Pyrosia and keep the race of the Duthak alive.  You wont close your eyes to that threat now and refuse to see the obvious.  It dishonors you, and it stains the memory of the great sacrifice your ancestors accepted to give you the chance to live.  The Duthak literally saved Sennadar five thousand years ago at the Battle of the Line, laying down the lives of your entire race to stop the Demon horde and turn them back.  You will not sit there and believe that youre invulnerable in this paper shell of a mountain fortress and dishonor the memory of that sacrifice by allowing your pride to cause the complete extinction of the Dwarves from the world.
	He looked around the chamber, and saw that he had everyones undivided attention now.  Now, you have a choice to make Darax, King of the Duthak.  You can hide in this mountain and cause the destruction of your people, you can accept our offer to return you to your homeland, or you can march out of this citadel and fight.  That fight would be a fruitless effort, but as Lorak said, some would rather die defending whats theirs than simply leave it behind, and I wont dishonor their decision no matter how much I disagree with it.  That choice is entirely yours.  Our offer will stand.  In seven days, we are leaving, and we will take with us anyone who wishes to go.  And once we are gone, those left behind must choose to either accept fate and allow the Demons to kill them, or fight them to the last breath, as your ancestors once did five thousand years ago.
	Darax was quiet for a very long time.  A grave warning ye bring, stranger, he finally said.  Is the danger so great that it might bring about the end of all?
	Tarrin nodded simply.  Not even an Elder God can directly confront a Demon Lord, Darax.  If they did, the battle between them would reduce this entire world to ash.  But where an Elder God could use his power through the mortals of the world and defeat the Demon Lord, as was done on Sennadar five thousand years ago, there is no Elder God on Pyrosia to do the same.  And the other gods that are present on this world simply dont have that kind of power.  So your choices are simple, Dain Darax.  Leave with us or stay.  If you stay, you can either hide in this mountain until the Demons kill you, or fight to the death to defend it.  But if you fight, understand that youre risking the destruction of your entire race.  The Dura are the last of the Dwarves, Darax.  If you die, then your race will be no more.  If you fight, you risk the extinction of your entire race.  If you stay behind and simply hide in this fortress, you assure it.  But if you leave with us, then you ensure that the Dwarves will live on.  I know its like Im asking you to cut off your own leg, but you have to understand the risks you take if you decide not to leave Pyrosia.  In two months, most likely, there wont be a Pyrosia left.  I cant make that