"My sincere condolences, Tick" Iorwerth murmured softly, his own gaze lowered. "While there are a great many good people in Connlaoth, there are always the bad apples that make it worse for the rest of us. My own eminence, herd as humans call us," he added with a nod towards the old man before continuing, "has been driven more and more off our lands with each passing year. They do not even know of our gift for if they did we would surely all be slaughtered. It is a shame that there are such places of knowledge and yet still they perceive different as dangerous."
He shrugged with a sigh, "but what can you do? Hope I suppose. Hope the good will weed out their own rotten cores."