From behind the empress' group comes a strange, rasping voice. "Such hubris, to brush aside my kin as mere animals hunting their prey." The vocalization was terrible, emphasis sprinkled here and there among the speech like a farmer spreading his seeds. The source of this profaning of the imperial tongue stepped out from behind the imperial delegation, revealing itself as a cloaked form with a large grayed-blue fin protruding from the top. The Pician surprisingly carried no weapons, wielding only a wooden staff from which dangled a Khirusi mask.

The journey to Avakonia for these proceedings was simple; a boat across the lake between Hosra and [region 47], a boat from [region 47] to the fallen Imperial capitol, and a brief trek to the place of meeting were all it took. He arrived shortly after the Empress' delegation, hanging to the back of the room as the attention was on the Dvaltans' bombastic introductions and the Empress' threats in turn. Only now did the cloaked Pician bother to draw attention to himself.

He was quick to resume his talk. "Pardon my interruption good Emperors, but I feel that our cause is being heavily misrepresented among your kind. We do not seek to devour the flesh of every human on Emjata, as doomsayers would have you believe. Mlagarblargle, our previous Speaker, was motivated by such pursuits. However, he is dead. The mountain harboring the Azen saw to that. We only seek revenge on those who have wronged our Realm and in doing so thought they could get away with it."

Turning to directly address the Empress, he continued. "Does Hosra ring a bell for you, Empress?" The Pician chuckled. "If only you had just left the rebels to their affairs..."

Spoiler: Purbagle
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