I had to genocide the elves. I had no choice, you understand. Well, I had a choice, but that'd involve not killing the elves, so it wasn't really a choice at all. So, as the remaining elf-maids cried to the heavens, my giggling serfs dragged off an enormous pile of gold which I'd spend on an old fridge which leaks CFCs constantly or something.
Cheerio, eldest of the races. I hardly knew ya.