Not just with Khellenduras, not just with the unprovocked attack from Glor, it was with everything and nothing.

Myra's turn from the darkness felt like a hollow victory, when compared with what transpired at the Arrow that night. Finally confronting Khellenduras, in the shrine no-less, felt hollow as well. He had almost had the lich, a split second earlier and he would have caught the lich lord with the anti-magic spell.

Seeing Myra being introgated by the rest of occupants of the Arrow he had slipped out, to find the lich.

It had taken several days but he had finally caught up with Khell. In his arrogance he actually believed he could put and end to the dread evil alone...

...They said little as they stared at each other from across Khell's desk. Khell's crimson eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of the young elf.

"I told Myra that our deal is off. You are no longer under her protection little elfling, begone."

The anger that dwelt within Q'wellen, stirred like a living force. The guild, neverwinter, his parents, his failures, Glor, Myra and on and on; Q'wellen placed all his anger upon the rotting corpse that stood before him. If he could take this thing, here and now, he could be free of the pain, the embarassment. Q'wellen could barely see his surroundings for the red haze that had overcome his vision.

He drew his scmitar slowly. "I will play this game no longer, Khellenduras. Tonight one of us will die. And it wILL NOT BE ME!!"

Q'wellen lunged for the lich, and even in this enraged state, the bladesong came forth.

Forgoing his magiks, Q'wellen pressed the lich with his silver blade. Hacking, slashing, cutting through the anger and isolation as he cut the dire beast. Black and foul curses fell from Q'wellen's lips as he tried to destory that which had become the manifestation of the darkness within his own soul.

Even the bladesong fell away, as Q'wellen became indwelt with his own fury. Cunning and skill fell to the terrible wrath of Q'wellen's rage.

and Khellenduras only laughed. The evil being easily dodged the clusmy attacks of the enraged elf. Finally growing bored with the annoyning elf, Khellenduras' hand shot out. His hand burned easily through Q'wellen's enchanted armor, breaking the enchantments with no effort. Dead hand reached elven skin and the skin began to burn as well. Q'wellen began to scream...

...the pain was incredible. Somehow Khell had broken his defenses. Q'wellen could feel every angonizing inch as Khell's hand burned deeper into his chest. His skin pulled back from the burning hand, exposing white bone and sinewy muscle beneath. Tendons snapped and muscle crumbled beneath the necromantic assault. Q'wellen could see his own organs pulsing, exposed to the world.
His body sagged, supported now only by the liches own hand. Q'wellen could feel his life blood flowing from his body, as he blacked out.

Khell shook the lifeless form from his hand with a wet plop. Q'wellen's body collapased to the floor, armor black around the gaping hole in it's center.

With a disgusted look of annoyance, Khell waved a hand and disappeared into the ether.

Q'wellen's chest rose, organs almost to at their breaking point beat. A hand crawled out, then another. To the burned, and twisted form of the once proud elf it seemed hours passed as it pulled it self to the top of the stairs. With no hope of standing and barely clinging to the last few drops of its' life blood, the body tumbled down the stair case, adding broken bones to the list of already mortal injuries. Time passed in infinite measure as the shell of an elf pulled itself across the cold stone floor, leaving a wet bloody trail behind it, as it went. The spirit of the elf gave up each drop of blood with a fight, measuring out the amount it would take to get it outside the foul tower. Giving up just enough and no more.

The annals of time do not record how the the almost lifeless form managed to get the door open, but one can imagine the sheer agony that must have ripped the shattered body in even this small task.

Finally able to move no more the husk stopped moving. The body lay outside the dark tower, waiting, clinging to what little life remained, hoping some soul might pass and take pity upon the dying edhal....