Coniferal Coneman

The Coneman growls and strikes his chest, threatening the villagers standing behind me. I walk towards him, my hands outstretched in peace. Beside me, my Alter Ego snarls in defiance, prepared to act if he should attack me. I watch as the giant's massive fists close like hammers. He shouts and pounds the ground, sending clumps of earth flying. Like all varieties of Coniferal Conemen, he is hot-tempered and quick to violence. But I won't let him get that far today. I raise my hands and approach, prostrating myself to show respect. He beats the ground in front of me, rattling the nearby trees. Nauraa asks me to be careful. He knows how dangerous these fellows can be when they see red.

And our friend here is right to be angry. The village was set up with no attempt at consultation with the other species here. But I have to make him understand that they had no choice but to settle in this place. They were driven from their home by the spread of the Fagn, an area of putrid muck that is slowly reaching the rest of the wetland. Once they were displaced, circumstances forced them to live here, but they failed to consider the opinion of this land's first settlers. I get down on one knee and humbly bow to him. Conemen may be cantankerous, but all they really want is to be respected. He continues to growl, but has stopped hammering the earth. I place a cup on the ground, then pour in Mana-charged water from my canteen as an offering. Excellent. We can finally have a discussion, he and I.