Mr Gryphon nods a bit, then he writes for an insufferably long time, never taking his eyes off his notepad unless it’s to consult the stack of paperwork he has, then he turns his attention to Mr, Abdelnour.
“Allow me to tell a story, a long time ago, specifically 157 years ago, a race of tall grey Necroids landed on this planet alone and afraid. Thrown into a planet they had no information on, after being enslaved for millions of generations. Then, when they landed, bugs attempted to force us out, clearly you would defend yourself against the threat. But when we faught back they spun the story. ‘Demons’ we translated, ‘they invade our historical holy lands, we must purge them to cleanse the world.” Mr gryphon grabs one of his papers in the middle of the stack. “Please allow me to read some of the reports over the last 100 years. Diplomatic envoys sent to Bug camp just under Zack’s pike, one survivor out of ten. The original Blackrock colony, total obliteration, most citizens wounded.” He places the paper down and leans closer to the diplomats, then turns his attention back to everyone. “You people always say, ‘take the high road, stop the violence.’ And yet you refuse to think, have they tried to stop it? And to be frank they did, but when we didn’t agree to their frankly ridiculous and stupid terms, they considers us unreasonable. So tell me, and tell me well. What is your proposal to end this dance with death? Because from our way of seeing things, this is not a genocide, this is not unwanted violence, this is just survival.”
