[Himaran]

Rage. It was the only feeling enveloped Dwali's soul as the group moved away from the mammoth arachnid. Anger flowed through his pulsing veins, both at himself and the beast which had caused them so much fear and grief.

Dorim would die -- he was certain of that --and the young dwarf had not been able to stop it. I ran. Dorim attacked. Perhaps, if I had attacked as well, we would both be on two feet right now. It had all happened too fast. In his quick retreat, Dwali was unable to spot his companion's somewhat foolish charge. Adding to his distres was the intervention of the elves; it seemed as though Bror had made several aquaintinces during the battle. The half-even folk must have be-friended him, Dwali decided. Lovely. Now there will be three of them against me, and with Dorim gone... The dwarf tried not to contemplate the immediate future, but instead concentrate on putting one stout leg in front of the the other.

Turning to acess the situation, he found Aldor and Grash kneeling over the forms of the other two dwarves. Bror was unconcious, and Dorim was dead. The lifeless dwarf had saved Dwali's life earlier in the battle, and the horrible feeling of failing a companion entered his already tormented soul. And Bror, who had done so much for both of them, might be dead as well. No. It cannot end this way. "IT WILL NOT!" The others looked up from their work as the dwarf roared out to the enemy at the far end of the cavern. Grabbing Dorim's axe, he abruptly turned and headed back towards the place of the battle.

But then Grash was there, grasping him arm tightly. "No, Dwali. You can't just throw your life away -- Bror may yet survive. Now come, help us; he's in pretty bad shape." The dwarf wrenched away, and made as if to step forward. But then he stopped and dropped to his knees, weapon's clattering on the stone floor. It was as if the energy itself had drained out of him, and Dwali could only cry.