What a strange little creature you are, humans.
You are weak, squishy, short-lived, untalented in the arcane arts, and pardon me for saying this, not particularly clever either. You have little of the sort of things - flying, fire breath, dominion over nature, inherent divinity - that the fey, the djinn, or my kin would find so trivial. You boast about fast breeding rate and technology, but even in these, goblins have you beat.
You are young. You come to a land already shaped and formed by your elders and try to carve a place of your own in it, like a toddler with a plastic trowel.
And yet... you persist. You survive, thrive even. You have covered the land, slowly pushed the rest of us to its fringes, into the dark places where you have not yet come - but likely will one day. Our time is over.
More curiously still, you resist our blood. In spite of your search for power and love and your - again, pardon me - rather lustful ways, in spite of the many arcane secrets we could teach you, show you in the art of pleasures, and infuse to the very essence of your children, your entire race... it is rare that you would take up on that and produce a half-elf, or a half-dragon.
And then it turns out that this halfbreed, with all his power and might, actually still is left behind by the full-blooded man. Go figure.
It is a riddle to me. I have heard but whispers, rumors, of the key to your success. I hope you may enlighten me on the matter.
Tell me, Veeky Forums... what is this "Ponusfeet" that so empowers you?