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[Xaxanta]

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"Bah!" thought the old dwarf out loud.
He stood at the foot of what was Silent Poets tavern.
"Dammit, na' whe're am'i gonna drink at?" he thought out loud again.

Secretly Xaxanta thought he should've been the one to fall, not his old friend poet, after all, poet had been like a brother to him. Now he was once again lone, lone to face the world.

He looked up at the noon sky.
"Aval'Ashan" he screamed at the top of his lungs, "Why did ye give me this gift, my sweet love, I dinnae want this at all". Sighing loudly, knowing no one would answer.

Knowing no one knew that he couldn't die, he, all these years simply played off that he was the oldest living dwarf, which was the truth, but now, now the one he came to lvoe as a brother, was dead.

Everything was happeneing to fast for the old dwarf, it was becoming nightmarishly real that he would always remain after all was lost, even that sweet dwarven child Lori, who he came to love as his own daughter, would soon grow up, get married, and eventually die...

"Dammit" He yelled again. "Ain't nothin' left fer me 'ere."

He sighed one more time, mounting his ethreal Ki'rin, he took one sidelong galnce at the rubble, membering all the memories, for the first time in a long time, Xaxanta cried.
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The life of one dwarf is often considered expindible.
But who gets to decide?