His deep green eyes, something similar to the deepest corners of a forest, where the shadows lie awaiting the return of the great mother of all, Nature, surveyed his new empire. That tiny space that he had conquered, that he had held for himself. It had been a good few days so far, with few complaints aside from the city guards. Mostly he had just caused some upset in the general production of something that people called 'hair-ships' - or at least that was how it had been reported to Gru'Hal. He himself had not heard any of the angry comments shouted over the barricades, because he had spent his time up here on the roof.

And this little roof was his palace. It was well decorated, at least in terms of what a kobold needed. A large, wooden chair, similar to something that an aristocrat would lounge in in their afternoon garden took up pride and place. He also had a hastily made standard, made with a few skulls, what they could get of at short notice. That meant rats and a single already dead dog that his kobold warriors had found in the streets, placed against a couple of branches and coloured with some paints they had found in the factory back offices. There was lastly a table made from an upturned crate and filled with all sorts of foods that the kobolds had found to feed their general. Gru'Hal had so far found himself not particularly liking of the pastries and fruits, but the meats at least were good. Especially salted pork. He stood there, listening to his underlings words that a team had come to parlay, and truly hoped that they had brought some salted pork alongside.

"Eh sir, one of 'em is ... says she knows you?"

Gru'Hal turned to see a second kobold, this one a muddy brown, almost black, armed with a crossbow and running onto the rooftop with his chest heaving. Deeply he frowned, having not noticed anyone he recognised in the small group that had now arrived at the barricade.

"What are you talking about?" he growled. "I know of no humans personally here."

"Well she ain't exactly 'uman, sir."

Now that was not a surprise. Because Alerar after all was filled with dark elves, also known as drow. Gru'Hal had done his research recently on the type of culture that they had, with their rich industry - something Hodekin had never really mentioned, and kobolds had only vaguely known about. Now that Gru'Hal was in a factory he had hoped to learn a little more about these 'technologies' and this 'science' but so far it had all been to avail. Neither Hodekin would learn anything, nor Gru'Hal himself. Yet.

"Well, that is not strange here."

"No, sir, but she is insistent. And there are - they eh-"

"They brought bang-sticks, sir," said the first kobold. "Those things that explode and loud and so on."

Gru'Hal scowled deeply, his eyes growing darker as he thought. Certainly if anything was to go by he was not going to go down himself. Those who wished to parlay could come to him. He stared at the crowd that had come had one amongst them who he saw was leaning forwards on a horse, eyes looking up to the rooftop where he was. From this distance Gru'Hal could make out that she was moving her mouth, but no sound was coming up here. It was far too high here, and there were too many things to do. Like sit on a chair and survey his land ... until Hodekin came and truly took it.

Sigh.

"Have her brought up. Her and all the ones who want to talk," he said quietly. "Weapons will not be allowed. Those are my conditions."

"Sir!" The two kobolds squeaked before bowing. Then they glanced each other before scurrying away.