Why, Lord? Of all of us, Pelor, why did you have to take Nikko? How does that make any kind of sense? What kind of twisted, insane reasoning led you to that conclusion? Was it because we needed him? Was it because I needed him? Why not Marqes? He is taken by madness and everyone would feel a bit relieved if you took him. Why not the hateful thief? He believes in nothing but his own welfare and comfort. I would see him dead a thousand times to have Nikko back. 

Why not me? I may just be a boy, but I serve no particular purpose here, as Sly has pointed out endlessly. My sisters can rule, if my father is dead. He must be, right, else he would have broke the world, having us back? I am young, but I have perhaps sixty years before me. Nikko had a thousand. What a rich harvest you have reaped, Pelor. How your basket must overflow! I am so glad that he now wanders your halls. It is not as we needed anyone extraordinary here, for our purposes. We’re just trying to rescue the world from enslavement. Don’t let us disturb your lofty ruminations.

Forgive me, Lord. I do not hate you, though I must sound as if I do. In your wisdom, you must understand how desperate I am to blame someone for this terrible thing. I never really believed that, someday, he would be gone. He was bigger than this small world. He was eternal. Things that I can barely grasp the concept of, he knew in their most intimate and finite detail. In this hour of our greatest need, it was especially cruel to have such a good man ripped from our grasp. What bard could help but spit to have to recount this tale?

Aye, we must carry on, for the sake of the world if not our own. My mouth is full of ashes and my heart, lead. I no longer care for my own life or anyone elses’. I go on because I must. It is my duty to my father, my Kingdom and to you, my God to continue until my time here is through. I will do my duty because I will not bring shame to my family’s name. I will not have it be known that a son of Keilrand gave up because of the pitiless meaness of life. If I must, I will embrace cruelty myself, and cast pity aside. If my only friend must die, who then deserves to live? Who then is worthy of mercy? Of forgiveness? I see none.

A Death March

"I’ll not loose any sleep over that one’s death. He had it coming." — Jeridiah

"We all having it coming." — Nikko

Stone is a small place. Oh, its caverns and halls may spread over thousands of miles, but wherever you happen to be in it, is small. This reality reflects upon its inhabitants. They hold small regard for each other, or their own freedoms. They care little if another loses their life or their possessions. That is the smallest thing about this atrophied little world–the scope of their concern. There are no larger causes here. There are only countless nations of one. That is our greatest advantage. We are the only group around with at least some members that have concerns that supercede their own.

In this small place, there is no loyalty to leige-lord or country. There is a simple calculation of present advantage against future risk. I can see these machinations in the minds of all that we encounter. Who will hold them to account if they help us? The calculus is purely mercenary. We must simply sell ourselves as the greatest reward at the lowest risk to win support. Concepts like freedom and honor have no value here.

For six of the Duergar of Tooman Gar, we were the best bet. Oh, I don’t discount the popularity of our cause. But it is easy to favor a cause that you are not required to put a stake into. We had many cheering us on… quietly. Good luck finding any who would admit speaking to us if we lost. We weren’t thinking about loosing though. We were immortal and quite sure we would remain that way.

The six who would fight next to us were soldiers. They knew the gates well and often stood guard upon them. They would have no problem convincing the ones that were on duty now to stand aside.

It was a two-hour march to the gates. To my delight, Nikko was in good humor that morning. It seemed that, whatever cloud had fallen upon him, had finally departed. We joked back and forth the whole time, making up tap-room ditties about the things we’d done and the places we’d been. Nikko immortalized the party in song, writing a song about us in his head, even as we walked. It was hilarious, and even the Duergar were laughing at some parts, though clearly they were made nervous by the parts about us killing the dragon.

We had no need of secret passages. We came at it straight on. The hall in this place was tall and narrow. The uneven ceiling was perhaps a hundred feet above the floor, though the walls were no more than forty feet apart. A barrier wall was built accross the hall, up to a height of eighty feet or so, with the rest of the distance liberally studded with spears and lances mortared to the top of the wall and the ceiling above it. No creatures of any size could hope to fly through the gaps.

Only a handful of Duergar were manning the gates when we arrived. We outnumbered them and the gates were designed to keep people out. They left without protest, though none stayed to help.

The back gate had a tower with plenty of arrow slots facing the courtyard. The front gate was only forty feet beyond the back, and had only a small crow’s nest at the top of the wall, accessed by rope ladder.

The plan was simple. Two of our Duergar allies would man the back gate and shut it against any escape. One would take the crow’s nest and give us warning. The others would join Jeridiah and Marqes below on the front gates. I would take my place in the tower, relatively safe. Nikko would be there too, higher up. I was relieved that he would not be exposing himself to unnecessary danger. 

When Merdenheim and his lieutenants were in the courtyard, Nikko would slam a stone wall into the front gate doorway, trapping half of Merdenheim’s army, along with Merdenheim, in the killing field. Simple plan. Perfect scenario. What could go wrong?

---

The Death of Nikko’ontarius Toolee

"I liked Torgash better when he was alive." — Brock

The first thing that could go wrong would be: there could be too many of them. Of course there were. There were always too many to overcome. We would always overcome them anyway. Merdenheim appeared at the front gate mounted upon a massive beast. His minotaur lieutenant rode another. A female drow, well-armed, walked in front of them, and a construct of indeterminable origin clanked along between the two lizard-mounts.

There were at least three dozen Duergosaurs in Merdenheim’s company, and a giant to boot. Nikko slammed the door shut with half of the company in the courtyard. All hells broke loose after that. 

The two monsterous mounts disappeared from the courtyard, along with the bronze man and a handful of others. This was Nikko’s doing of course. He was always rearranging the battlefield to his liking. Our fellows down in the courtyard fell upon Merdenheim. Arliss tried his best ot close the gates against Nikko’s stone wall, but the minotaur saw what he was up to and threw himself in the way, determined to keep them open.

Nikko saw our predicament. There he stood, high in a tower, looking down up on the battlefield through a narrow gap in the wall. Little could touch him there. He was as safe as an elf could be, under the circumstances. 

With a sharp crack, the Duergar across the way on the crow’s nest disappeared, and Nikko stood there in his place. The elf shouted and gestured down toward the ground before the front gate, where I couldn’t see. He dropped into a crouch then, and flung one arm around the stone column that the crow’s nest clung to. I had seen this before. Nikko had accelerated his casting in order to do two things instead of one, and the price of this was a brief period of helplessness as he recovered. 

Except Nikko’s doom clung to the wall nearby, a creeping assassin that infernal luck would smile upon that day, at least for a time. I saw him as he moved. A short, flexible creature with big ears and a snakey tail, he grasped the wall with his toes and fired arrows at Nikko. The first must have chipped stone away from the support column. Nikko flinched back and put his hands in front of his face. He stood.

As I watched, the fletchings of an arrow appeared between Nikko’s hands. To my uncomprehending eyes, it looked like some sort of mysterious trick the elf performed, making these feathers appears from nowhere, as if by magic.

Slowly, each heartbeat spanning minutes and the roar of battle stretching out into one long, invariable note of discordance, I watched him fall. I have seen a thousand unbelievable things, and my friend has been, more often than not, the cause of them. Countless thoughts went though my mind as Nikko fell. It happened so gently and over such a great expanse of time, but never once did I consider that something bad had happened. This was Nikko. Nothing bad could ever happen to Nikko. The elf had safeguards guarding his safeguards, and contingencies in place to protect against the failure of other contingencies.

Only when he hit the ground with a bone-shattering crash did it occur to me that this was not all some fancy trick. Time sped up, and disbelief came crashing down on me like an avalanch. I fell to my knees. My bow fell from my hands and clattered on the stone floor, mocking me. I could feel air rushing from my lungs and the irritation in my throat of harsh treatment, but no sounds were coming from my mouth. I was surrounded by a numb silence. It was as if I stood outside of myself, looking down at myself.

Who was that strange young man, screaming his silent grief at the uncaring walls? Would not a true friend take up his bow and visit vengeance upon the elf’s killer? Would not a true friend spend himself upon such a task? I do not know what demon possessed my body while my mind stood off and watched, but he had no interest in revenge. 

---

Having Just Lost the Finest Wizard in Stone, We Find a Little Faker

"Illusion is the art of using the right amount of the wrong magic to inefficiently obtain an inferior result." — Nikko

I don’t know how long I knelt there on the ground, mindless. It was some time, at least. When I stood and grasped my bow, murder foremost upon my thoughts, the battlefield had moved on. Merdenheim was dead, as was his Drow and his minotaur. The bronze construct and giant had burst through the stone wall and were fighting. Dead Duergosaurs and a few Duergars littled the courtyard. A roaring sound came from the right and below. I looked for the assassin, intent upon slaying him, but his location wasn’t immediately apparent.

WIth a mighty blow, Marqes put the metal man down. The hulk fell with a great crash. The giant roared his disappointment and desperation. A motion from the side of the courtyard caught my eye. A human darted from a narrow opening in the wall, rolled across the floor and stood, bow in hand. It was Talon, and behind him, Sly. Where he had been to this point, I did not know, but it was obvious that they were just entering the battle.

Marqes went down to the giant, and was crawling away and healing himself when something strange happened. The air before the back gate began to hum as if the worlds largest beehive had been disturbed. The air itself seemed to vibrate and my teeth hurt from the feel of it. With a deafening crack, a long black vertical bar appeared in front of the gate. Small fingers of energy danced around the bar as if it were a hole in the world and our lifeforce was pouring into it.

The bar widened into an oval. It made sounds like an iron bar hitting a taut cable, then a huge creature of black rock and glowing fire stepped through and into the courtyard. The smell of sulfer accompanied a wave of heat that washed over me. 

I spied movement on the top of the opposite wall. I looked up to see two dryders up there, and the bow-wielding assassin was up there too! I fire several arrows in that direction, and may have hit him, but I’m not sure. The shadows were thick at the top of the wall, and the only light was that coming from the burning creature far below.

Arrows rained down on Arliss far below, but somehow none found their mark. Sly reached the top of the wall then, and I stopped shooting to avoid hitting him. He charged the nearest dryder, almost losing his footing on the narrow wall-top.

I took the opportunity to look down and check on the rest of the battle. At this point, I really didn’t care much for what happened if it didn’t include killing Nikko’s assassin, but I managed to witness Elijah delivering the two most powerful blows I’d ever seen anyone deliver. The giant went down in a rain of blood and shattered bone. The elf was instantly transformed into a god of battle, complete with a glossy red covering over his entire body. It was impossible to tell if the remaining Duergosaurs shrank back from him, or from the fiery God that began to speak from some yards behind him.

"I AM GROSH UR’NUM, GOD OF DUERGAR! WHO DARE BRINGS WAR TO MY PEOPLE? FLEE NOW, FATHERLESS DUERGOSAURS, LEST I CAST YOU INTO MY LAKE OF FIRE TO FEED MY DEMONS!"

The fiery God roars like a thousand boulders being crushed by some incomprehensible force, and all of the remaining duergosaurs fled though the broken wall of stone, into the thick mist beyond.

The assassin and a couple of dryders that I had not seen before were scrabbling across the ceiling, "running" for their lives. Two dryders remained. Elijah flew to the top of the wall, hit one of the dryders so hard that the thing exploded into clouds of flesh and ichor. The other fled, but Talon and Elijah killed it as it ran.

Jeridiah was attacking Grosh for some reason. The God of Fire ignored him. Then, after a moment, there was a flash and Grosh vanished. The paladin was left scratching his chin. As quickly as that, the fearsome battle was over.

I ran down the tower stairs and threw open the back gate. I ran to Nikko’s side and took his limp body into my arms. I knew at once that he was gone. No giant such as Nikko could have become so frail and light in my arms as this poor creature lest his greatness had abandoned him in death. He seemed so small now, like a child. I didn’t even have to strain to lift him up.

The arrow took him in the temple. The expression on his face didn’t even register surprise. He did not see his doom coming, which is the best that any of us can hope for. Tears streamed down my face although my heart was cold. I turned to face the others.

Something primitive in my mind hoped that the thief, Sly, would try to take Nikko from me. I don’t know where that came from, but if he had, I would have fallen upon him with the mindless wrath of demons unleashed. He did not. Instead, he fell to his knees and began tearing at his hair, showing his grief as those from the dry lands do.

Elijah, still covered in the giant’s blood and gore from the dryder, began singing a mournful song in elvish, softly. Marqes stood beside him, shaking his head and stroking his blood-soaked beard. Jeridiah went about his business, wiping blood from his greatsword and checking rents in his armor. Only the flow of tears down his cheeks indicated that anything was amiss.

Talon was squatting and talking to a gnome. His face was pale and his hand shook a bit as he conversed, but he seemed okay. Arliss fell in behind me as I went to the back gate and began the long walk back to Tooman Gar carrying the body of my friend and mentor. He put his hand on my shoulder. "If you should tire lad, I will take up your burden," he murmured kindly. Much of that trip is lost to my memory, but I don’t think I tired.

---

Saying Goodbye

"If this elf ever dies, I’m screwed." — Echi

I sat in a dark place in Tooman Gar for a long time. Nobody disturbed me, though much happened in the meantime–so I understand. Though I was deep inside my head, I was aware of my surroundings. No shouting or celebration broke the somber rythym of the town. Life goes on, but I was glad that it waited a bit for me to catch up.

Eventually, Arliss came to me and said, "It is time son," then gestured for me to follow.

Someone had built a bier from the stems of a giant mushroom that grows wild in Stone. Nikko was laid atop the bier in a state of repose. His face was perfect, the violence done to him by the assassin erased by Varnus’ grace. The villagers from Tooman Gar attended while Arliss gave a ceremony worthy of a friend. When he finished, Marqes spoke at length. I found it impossible to focus on what he was saying, though he sounded surprisingly rational from what I did hear.  When Marqes was through, some of the others stood to eulogize our friend. I declined the opportunity. I had no fit thoughts to share with the others and would not dishonor Nikko by indulging myself with ranting.

When everyone was through, Arliss led us in a prayer. Then four Duergar approached the bier with torches and touched the bier at the four corners. The mushroom wood burns hot and fierce, and soon ther bier was an inferno. Within fifteen minutes, only a pile of ash remained

I held myself together well enough, not wanting to detract from the dignity and solemnity of the occasion. That lasted until we returned to the dragon’s lair and I laid eyes on Renea. She immediately saw that I was carrying Nikko’s staff and made the necessary deductions. My composure shattered. We held each other for a very long time as we cried ourselves out. Somewhere along the way, my childhood spilled out amongst my tears. When I finally had no more tears to give, I found that the place in my heart where the boy once lived had been replaced by a hard, dark patch.