Maruko looks around at the soldiers and shakes his head in disappointment. Finding a high place from which he might speak, he clears his throat and practically bellows, casting his voice to be heard by all of them.
"Who are you? I ask again, who are you? Are you soldiers? Are you men, defending their homes with steel and stone? Or are you cowards, to let the demons trample over you without being given the slightest delay?"
He lets the words sink for a moment before continuing.
"I will fight tonight, as I once did for the Dwarf-King. I hope to die a glorious death in battle, worthy of honour and praise by my ancestors. I always do! But more, I seek to die alongside valiant comrades, who might be so worthy themselves of honour that I am as far below them as a demon is below me! Will you be those fighters? Will you fight with honor and courage, and drive these demons back from your doorstep alongside your kin and countrymen?"
The dwarf pauses to observe their reaction this time, continuing, this time more somberly.
"You have lost those you care for deeply. Everyone here has. What will you do to honor their memory, and avenge their loss? What will you do that gives their deaths, and their lives, meaning? Will you lay down and die like dogs? Or will you show what your true self is made of, and pay the demons back tenfold for every blow they've given?"
"I tell you now that we have no need for mage assistance. To be sure, their help is a great boon. But it is no more necessary than a helm, or a wrist-strap! We have good steel, strong wills, and the heart to make use of both! If they wish to leave, to evacuate and abandon their homes, let them! I say that it gives us that much more opportunity to show just what we think of demons, and allows us that much more vengeance upon them!"
Finally, he seems almost humorous with the last portion of his mini-speech, before building up into a thunderous roar.
"And of the demons themselves...they are strong foes, that is to be sure...but we can be equally sure of the reason. These demons are far from the place they call home; they long for it, and see us as the only method to get there..."
His grin is a predatory smile, a triumphant and expectant face of glory and of a man who expects his foe to throw himself onto his sword without the slightest resistance.
"These demons wish to return to the Hells! Let us have the courtesy to send them there!"
As (hopefully) a vengeful cheer rose up from the gathered crowd, he lifted his fist, sword in hand, to try and emphasize the statement.
He had no true idea whether the ideals and speeches that would be made to a crowd of dwarven warriors would work well for human ones...he could only hope so...