[h2][center]Thargas Anvilmar[/center][/h2]
[hr] 

Commander Anvilmar had not anticipated the proceedings would be so tumultuous. And yet, fortune seemed to favor them and their cause. He and Geradin exchanged looks, not entirely skeptical, but evident surprise on their bearded faces. Geradin was the first to regain his wits, giving an inclination of his grey-haired head to those assembled. Coming home to their King with promises of Alterac and its mountain passes was not what they had asked for, but the longer they thought of it, the more they felt it was a great gift indeed. One could only imagine what untold riches lay underneath the rock, and the tolls, even at low prices, would give staggering wealth to the depleted kingdom of Khaz Modan. 

"That is a Kingly gift," Geradin said. "I think the Light that our friends have not forgotten our devotion."

The Dwarves would help in the war regardless, their word as strong as iron and their ties to the alliance, everlasting. However, this would boost morale and silence the senators that had begun to grumble at Magni's decision to mobilize so soon. Anvilmar spoke up, having made up his man. "Then Alterac it be! We will wait for confirmation from yer kings, but let it be known that we accept these terms with more heart than ye could know. Thank ye." 

The wizards exchanged looks and spoke of spying on the enemy, which he could appreciate, and the Ashbringer spoke to a few other members of the council, but it seemed politics as usual. That is, until a great wolfish thing had entered the council, and had even deigned to knock beforehand. To Thargas Anvilmar, it looked much like a gnoll he and his lads often skirmished with along the northern and southern borders of Khaz Modan. He almost reached for his weapon, but when no one else jumped to defense, he thought about it. It was larger than your typical gnoll and more lupin in visage, and it spoke words like a man, not an oafish yelping thing. He realized it had to be a Wolfen. He had never seen one before, but word of them had reached him in a few tales. 

Genn Graymane! So the cursed king was here. The Dwarves held no enmity of him or his realm, and if everyone else was ready to bury the pickaxe as it were, he saw no reason not to join in. 

"We of Khaz Modan welcome ye to this council, King Greymane. It's good to have more lads join us." He wondered if they would have to reiterate all that had been said so far to the hairy royal or if they could proceed. He supposed he had already gotten most of what he wanted from the gathering, save the plan for the movement of troops. He spoke once more, addressing all assembled now. "Me boys will need some food soon. We have some rations left from the trail, but if ye want me lads to be at fighting shape, their bellies will need more than the coneys they can catch. Other than that, we're ready to kill some restless dead for ye."