Each-of-You adventured like a mad Gnome,'� Thelon said as he and Korber worked on the Temple of Each-of-You. 'Each-of-You feared no one and made a lot of enemies, including some of the gods.'� He ran is hands over his head, wiping away the sweat from the late after-midcycle sun. His light brown shirt stuck to his back from the heavy crafting work. Sweat ran down the haft of the axe strapped across his back.

'Such as . . .?'� Korber ap Grumbly asked.

'He and Louis were definitely not best friends.'�.

'Why was there enmity between them?'�

'Well, my curious little Terren, it all started when our company was asked to retrieve a sword hidden at the Nest.'�

'Was it Malcolm's sword of justice? I remember hearing it had been lost or stolen,'� said Korber.

'Yes, the followers of Louis or perhaps Louis himself stole it and hid it in the Nest.'�

'The followers of Louis swore a blood oath against all who participated in that violation of the Nest.'�

'I know. It's because of Each-of-You,'� Thelon replied.

'Strange, his name never seemed to come up, whenever the incident was discussed during the time I followed Louis.'�

'My understanding is it's forbidden to speak the name Each-of-You in the halls of the Nest,'� Thelon commented as he smoothed the rough edges from the stone block he was crafting for the temple.

'But Each-of-You has directed me, his high priest, to ally his Temple with the Nest.'� Korber furrowed his brow and his eyes narrowed in mild confusion.

'Well, you're crazy and so was he.'� Thelon continued, running his hands through his thick, chest length, red beard. 'The tale begins when we infiltrated the Nest. Father Nathan had spent many hours praying over us and we were able to enter quite easily. We made our way to the lowest level of the Nest, believing they'd have the sword well hidden; the high priest of Louis met us when we arrived, obviously waiting for us.'�

'You actually met Solomon?'� Korber gestured wildly with his hands, snapping the sleeves of his loose fitting white robe. His eyes widened like shooting targets.


'Encountered is a better word for it. We never actually saw her face, she clothed herself in darkness. Solomon told us to leave immediately or we would be dealt with accordingly. Its voice was like dragging one of these smoothing tools over a blackboard. He or it gave us the normal warning that you hear every time you retrieve something from a temple; needless to say, we were not overly impressed.'�

We of course, chose not to leave. Acolytes materialized out of nowhere and the roomed flared into blinding brilliance; Each-of-You attacked Solomon or the dark presence that claimed to be Solomon. Before we knew it he's yelling, 'I'll not be bullied by a servant of a god named Louis. Louis sounds like the name of an accountant who works all day at a soap shop and then goes home at night to be abused by his woman. Louis would be the type to beg to be abused. How the hell did a being named Louis get to be a god. I doubt he even exists. The god Louis is a great practical joke.'

'He struck Solomon with his battle axe and the room s brilliance faded, the acolytes disappeared. The presence that was supposed to be Solomon radiated, lighting the entire room. While we stood frozen, the room transformed and we found ourselves standing before Louis, seated and glowing white, on a throne of blackness. He was less than happy with us, especially Each-of-You.

'How dare you insult me you insect of a gnome,'� he cried. 'I was content to have you removed from my temple but you defiled my name, you impertinent slug. On top of trying to steal one of my most prized possessions. I love taunting that anally retentive Malcolm over the fact that I've got his mighty sword of Justice. My father is such an ass.'�

Of course, Each-of-You couldn't keep his mouth shut. 'You're Louis? I thought you'd imposing or scary or something. You actually look like a Louis.'�

Louis growled. 'Each-of-You, you vile little dollop of dwarf sign, you deserve to be turned to dust in a burst of flame and acids, but I've been commanded by Syn to spare you.'�

Each-of-You responded, 'He really does take orders from a woman. He's a bitch in god's regalia. I bet if we wished hard enough and laughed loud enough we'd all be able to go home.'�

At this point laughter erupted and surrounded us; Malcolm the god of Justice was listening and could not help himself. 'Louis, he knows you well, my pathetic little whelp. every day I regret asking Syn to provide you with divinity, but this makes up for it just a little.'� Malcolm guffawed and other voices joined in; the dark god Louis became a laughing stock at the hands of one insignificant gnome.

'Perhaps, we should order him a skirt from the Dwarven crafters.'� The god Tilmic spluttered.

More laughter erupted and we heard what could only be a dwarf's voice. 'Yes, the children can help him across the street and fetch his eggs for baking and run water for laundering,'� Thorin Oakenshield bellowed, the mirth booming around us.

Louis turned to Each-of-You, his eyes flaming, smoke pouring from his nose and spoke a word of power. Each-of-You doubled over and screamed, still managing to yell, 'bitch'�

While this was all going on the other thief in our party managed to sneak behind Louis's throne and grabbed the sword of Justice. Louis noticed just a moment to late and our thief struck him, severing his arm.

The throne room transformed back to Solomon's room, or at least the room where we met Solomon; Each-of-You screaming in pain. Solomon declared, 'You will die. You will slowly crumble into a pile of dust over the next two turns. You will watch yourself die bit by bit, a slow agonizing death for the humiliation you have brought on the dark god.'�

'We fought our way out of the Nest, dragging Each-of-You with us. We returned the sword of Justice to the Hall of Malcolm and over the following two turns watched Each-of-You literally crumble to dust before our eyes. It was a horrible death. As I think about it, perhaps, Syn did gift him with divinity.'�

'My Lord, Each-of-You,'� Boober gasped, running to his room of meditation and visions.

'Pathetic, just pathetic,'� Thelon muttered.

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