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Diminished

The last of us, a group of but a handful. I could not say that we were well known, but some did know of us, yes, and those who did never forgot. It was impossible.
In our limited association, it was to be expected that we at least got along somewhat sociably. Sadly, that was not to be. All of us, even the ones who realized how close we were to extinction, would gladly kill a fellow member of our clan if not for the oath that each of us swore on the day we joined.
It is a hard life, surrounded by backstabbing idiots that know nothing but bloodshed. That might be the reason that we are so close to death, even now. When we had sworn our allegiance, I had expected our numbers to rise, even if minimally. But no, that never happened. If anything, we have only continued our downward progression.
Now, our small tribe heads down to the village of Elvens. Our small society seemed to shrink within itself even more as we approached the dominating nation. But even a such a petite civilization as ours needed magic, and the elves had taken over the trade of magic powder. With little but the skin on our backs, it was hard imagining that our prospects were anything above a measly 1%. But stubbornness ran in our blood, and we tread onward.
At the gate of the Elvens, we stopped short. The thick, warped metal stood dauntingly in front of us. Our mighty hands could latch on to those bars and rip them free in mere seconds, but any new enemies would surely lead to our downfall faster still. Aside from this, our Watcher reported an Elven guard stalking us from rooftop, most likely with an airbow ready to be conjured.
Our number were few and our magic was near gone. Without this deal, we will use up our stocks in a week's time. Less, maybe, if a fight broke out.
And to think there were days when our kind had furs gleaming and sparkling with such power. Oh, how we have declined, how pitiful we have become. It was humiliating.
Teeth bared, I shouted out the code of honor to the gates' men of whom I was sure were snickering amongst themselves at this instance.
"We bind ourselves to Elven laws, and will bend to Elven orders. This is our land no more..."
Growling, I hissed out the last portion of the despicable constitution.
"Our lives are meaningless here, all hail the Elven King."
Rusty hinges cringe, and slowly, finally, the gate opens.



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