The arrangement frustrated Treekle, he should have been placed in the front or rear of the line. Stuck in the middle between the elves, humans, and changelings practically guaranteed that dwarf wouldn’t be noticed. A sad thing indeed seeing as he’d worn his best cap and cloak for the crossing, and how he would have loved for all the people to see them. Especially his fellow dwarves who remained hidden among the crowd, shouting a rousing, “Ka ka ka Ka’Zath!” In a near vain attempt to show their people’s presence at this momentous event and their support for Treekle’s royal pedigree.

	And why shouldn’t they? Hadn’t it been dwarves who mined the portal’s ancient rock and steal? And wasn’t it dwarves who donated many of their precious crystal to help power it? Shrugging these tiresome and divisive thoughts from his mind Treekle shouldered his mattock, taking his turn to step through the portal, the dwarves picking up the chant just when he entered. “Ka ka ka Ka’Zath!”

	Treekle’s first impression of this new world was how quiet it was. It seemed almost jarring, how one moment he stood amongst the roaring crowd and the next in the stillness of this new land. He would have liked it to last, for a minute at least but alas the chattering giants that surrounded him wagged their tongues and began chittering mere moments after entering. Typical humans and elves really, kind of amusing in a way.

	“Ah production, I suppose that’s me lass.” Treekle marched over to Esailia standing off to her right, sizing the odd Mithra Guardian up and down. “The name is Treekle Ka’Zath, lesser son of Vulgrim Ka’Zath ruler of the red dwarves and your accompanying alchemist and engineer. I presume you fancy yourself leader, shouting orders like that and what not, which is jolly good, always a fine thing to see chaps confident enough to take charge. But don’t get me wrong miss, I will not tolerate you disregarding my station. I am the son of a king, and I will not shovel horse dung or any other likewise demeaning tasks. I will carry my own weight, rest assured, but consider yourself… Informed.” 

	Turning to the group as a whole Treekle delivered a louder, more abrasive address to the gathered adventurers. “That goes for all of you taller folk, us dwarves often go looked down upon, an understandable side effect to our unique biology, nevertheless, keep my warning in mind. Should I find myself being mistreated I have no problem shoving this here mattock so far up someone’s bung hole their eyes turn grey. A decidedly uncomfortable procedure for all parties involved, let me assure you. Thank you, please continue miss, Esalila, is that correct punctuation? Yes, jolly good.” Treekle reclined, leaning on his mattock hilt, letting the others absorb his little speech and introduce themselves.