The world reappears. For most of the group, it solidifies properly: thick stale air, an inky black dwarven hall, massive pillars disappearing up into darkness, shattered statuary. Not so for Kiri, Velendo and Malachite. They materialize in solid rock.

Kiri realizes what happened as soon as the pain hits. She feels her flesh rupturing and bleeding, failing to merge with the stone around her. In her head she can hear her pseudodragon Tipic screaming uncontrollably, and more through vibration than hearing she picks up Velendo's strained voice.

"Tel . . . eport . . . again!"

Kiri can't move her hands, but the spell that is still trying (and failing) to solidify them surges inside of her and carries them away. They appear, panting, in a cave complex. All three are ankle deep in bat guano, and luminescent fungus glows slightly on the walls.

Malachite gives her a worried look.

"Hang on," says Kiri, recovering from the shock. "We're trying again." Tipic's tiny terrified claws dig into her shoulder as she begins to recast, and once again the three vanish.

Meanwhile, the other Defenders glance around the huge, silent hall. It takes them a few seconds to properly see the shape in the dark armor, as their gaze seems to want to slide off of him in the same way that a roach skitters from light. There is something wrong with the shape. It is a seeping sore of betrayal and despair, and fear pulses from it like pus from an infected wound. It slowly turns its head towards them, and its eyes stream hellish light.

Everyone except for Mara feels their muscles begin to shake in terror, their bladders loosen, their sweat go cold. For Nolin, though, it is worse. Everything that Nolin has ever done wrong, every friend and woman that he's ever betrayed, are personified in that dark shape. Backing up a few steps, he turns and flees. Splinder isn't far behind him, his boots ringing on the hard stone as he runs.

The rest of the group manages to fight down their initial instincts to flee. They can see that Kellharin is probably not a wizard; clad in ornate plate armor, he carries both a huge metal shield and a double-headed sledge hammer. Whatever the insignia on his shield once was, it has been torn off long ago. The undented armor is black from age, not from enamel, lit by the two glowing red eyes that gleam out from the shadows over the straggly beard.

"Kellharin!" Galthia darts forward, his heart thudding in his chest from unreasoning fear, and he unleashes a blurred combination of deadly strikes on the creature. The hall echoes from the sound of flesh hitting metal for the first time in decades. For his trouble, Galthia ends up with a bruised fist. "Hard to hit," he says grimly as he falls back into a defensive stance.

Agar is responsible for making sure the spellcaster doesn't flee. He casts dimensional anchor, but the green ray sputters and vanishes as it hits the undead. "Spell resistance!" calls Agar.

As Raevynn wild shapes into the shape of a stone giant, Shara begins to spell cast anyways. I've been waiting to do this for years, she muses to herself, and she lets loose with a powerful spell. Come to me! Obey me! she urges as she feels the filaments of her control undead magics wriggling around the undead in front of her, but he easily manages to resist it. Damn! thinks Shara as the magic dies away. This fight just got a lot harder. And where is Kiri?

Kellharin seems to be pulling himself out of a deep brooding trance, and he doesn't get his shield up before Mara's holy mace comes smashing down onto his shoulder from where she flanks him. As it does, there are bright sparks, and the undead dwarf finally snarls in anger. His breath is that of a corpse, rank and fetid.

"So people have come at last," he says heavily in formal dwarvish, but not without the faint ring of excitement. "You must be from the surface, for you can not be from below. It matters not. You will die, like all those before you." He hefts the heavy two-headed hammer, and Mara has just enough time to see the pulsing runes that encrust it before it pounds into her. He's good, better than she is, and his blows knock aside her shield with tremendous force as they strike home. He attacks five times, spinning the sledge with long-practiced skill, and several of the blows get through. There's a faint snapping sound that may be a bone, and Mara realizes that his strength is close to double her own.

"I don't think we're going to be the ones to die!" she says, as Malachite, Velendo and Kiri materialize behind her. "It's time for your evil to end!" The dwarf laughs hollowly, his eyes lighting Galthia's face as he glances back at the monk.

"Oh, no," he answers with an amused and horribly bitter tone in his slow, deep voice. He raises his blood-flecked hammer. "You're quite wrong. I can't die." And with a scream of terror, Kiri spins and runs off into the darkness.

Tao risks a longing glance in the direction of the fleeing Benholms -- There goes our mass haste spell, she thinks, fleeing like Dylrath on a bad day -- and downs an old potion of haste. She's been keeping the potion slung on her belt for years, but there's a time for everything, and the divine agent feels her perceptions speed up as the potion takes effect. She immediately snaps a searing light off in Kellharin's direction, but the brilliant ray of light fizzles as it is swallowed by Kellharin's own personal darkness.

Galthia tries another series of attacks, lightning-fast feints and jabs. Kellharin braces himself and raises his shield, and the monk finds all but one of his strikes missing. His eyes narrow as he studies the dark metal shield, looking for something. There it is, he thinks, and there on the armor as well. Good. He draws on a reserve inside of him that he developed over years of meditation and practices, and he feels the ki gather like a sledgehammer in the end of his fist. When he takes his last attack, he doesn't aim for any openings in the undead's defense. Instead, he aims for the structural weak point of his magical shield, a spot just off of the center. CLANG! Galthia's fist hits solidly, and the shield palpably dents.

Raevynn now towers over the others, easily three times Kellharin's size. From ten feet away, she swings her staff as hard as she can. The first blow cracks Kellharin over the shoulder, but he manages to interpose his shield as soon as he understands her reach, and none of her other attacks penetrate his defenses. Next to the druid, Agar is still on "don't let him escape" detail. Another green ray shoots from his finger, and this time an interlocking web of glowing green filaments spreads over Kellharin. "Got him!" Agar announces happily. "He's not teleporting anywhere!" The dwarf answers this statement with a short, mocking laugh. He's interrupted by a bolt of energy from Shara, but the lightning crackles and hisses around him without harming him in the least.

Mara adjusts herself to flank, and unleashes an attack routine that targets the weak spots -- if any -- in Kellharin's armor. Lightbinder hisses and snaps every time it touches the dwarf, scoring a few hits and searing dead flesh. Malachite rushes forward with Karthos drawn and follows up Mara's attack with one of his own, smiting the undead with a brilliant flash. Kellharin grunts deeply as the enchanted blade hammers splinters of old metal into his undead flesh.

Kellharin backs up next to the wall and settles his stance, his dented shield in front of him and his massive warhammer weaving at his side. Velendo recognizes the stance, because he's seen Splinder use it dozens of times. A dwarven defender? he thinks. That doesn't make any sense. But Kellharin is speaking coldly, without exertion.

"I have a duty, and you challenge it. You'll die as the others have."

"What others?" Velendo asks. "Do you know us?"

In answer, Kellharin unleashes a blistering array of attacks against the Hunter of the Dead. "I" crunch "guard" crunch "the" crunch "Ebon" crunch "Door." whoosh Four out of five hit, one of them crushingly, and Malachite is knocked backwards by the severe damage. "What others?" Inside the helm, a glint of fiery light reflects from old teeth as Kellharin smiles insanely. "Why, the ones I killed." His voice rises to a manic tone, and it's quickly clear that he isn't exactly well balanced.

As Velendo's head clears from the second teleport, he uses his true seeing to study the undead dwarf. He sees a pillar of black flame wrapped in magical armor. Interestingly, filaments of black fire are being carried into the dwarf from one direction, emerging from the darkness as they carry power into the undead guardian. Something is strengthening him, thinks Velendo. The door? Oh, what I wouldn't give for the Damming Stone right about now. Following the direction of the filaments, Velendo turns and runs into the darkness.

Tao wrinkles her nose. She can still hear both Benholms and her dwarven friend running off into the distance behind her. I've got to cut off the fear effect, she thinks. What would do it? She casts magic circle against evil, hoping that the fear is caused by some sort of domination effect. It's possible she's correct; as soon as she charges forward to attack and Kellharin falls within the radius of the circle, the gasping screams behind her abruptly cut off.

Across the pillared hall, Nolin, Kiri and Splinder screech to a panting halt. The unreasoning fear that possessed them has suddenly disappeared, and they can hear the sounds of the battle hundreds of feet away. "By Moradin's tangled beard," mutters Splinder.

"What WAS that?" asks Tipic, Kiri's pseudodragon. "That thing's really scary!"

"I know, sweetling," answers Kiri as she scratches him fondly on the neck. "Let's go deal with it." She turns to run the other way, and Nolin follows on fiery phoenix wings.

Galthia now knows what he needs to do in order to win the fight. He completely gives up on actually hurting Kellharin, and instead focuses all of his attacks on the dwarf's shield. On the third hit, the githzerai's fist smashes right through the enchanted metal. With a wrench, he rips the magical shield in two, and launches an attack on the breast plate of Kellharin's heavy dwarven armor. Spells flash and sear around him as Agar and Shara try to penetrate Kellharin's resistance. Next to him, Mara, Malachite and Tao surround the dwarf as best they can, weapons rising and falling as they try to beat their way through the heavy armor. Kellharin utters a horrible word, and both Raevynn and Malachite fall back with their eyes bleeding. The dwarf follows his attack with another series of blows, perhaps trying to drop Malachite once and for all.

At the other end of the hall, Velendo looks up at a huge ebon portal twenty feet tall. Hieroglyphic-like carvings line the wall around it. The metal of the door is completely black, a darkness that seems to eat the faint light that reaches it. Velendo checks; the Ebon Door itself isn't evil, although its guardian Kellharin certainly is. To Velendo's true seeing, the door doesn't appear magical at first. Then he realizes that this is because the magic is so pervasive that it already surrounds him. What IS this thing? Velendo wonders. He debates for a moment, then places a sovereign wall directly in front of the door, flush against the wall. That ought to stop it, whatever it is, he thinks to himself. He's distraught to see the pulsing black energy streaming from the stone instead.

I see, I think. It's pouring its power right into the stone. Right into the cavern itself. And Kellharin is picking up the energy from the rock. My wall isn't going to even slow it down. He turns and runs back the way he came.

By the time he returns, Kellharin has badly injured several of his combatants, but none of them have fallen. The dwarf's armor is roughly ripped open, but his sledgehammer is dripping with blood. Malachite has Karthos raised, his eyes blinking rapidly, and it's possible that this blow may be all that's needed to finish off the undead guardian. Through the true sight, Velendo can see the black energy flowing, and thinks as hard as he can, and decides to take a chance.

"Hang on a minute. Kellharin, why shouldn't we kill you?"

The dwarf swivels his ancient head towards Velendo. "You can't kill me."

"Hah!" exults Karthos. "Malachite, swing!" Instead, Malachite lowers the weapon slightly, and waits for Velendo to finish.

"Yeah, yeah, so you said. But if we could? What happens?"

"You can't. It won't let you." His deep, croaking laughter spirals crazily upwards. "Don't you think I've tried? Don't you think I've asked, and pleaded, and ordered? No. I am here while the door is here, and I am eternal. I don't know why you want the door open, but you will fail." As if in emphasis, his armor makes a small screeching noise as it begins to repair itself. Already, he looks healthier.

"But why . . . " Nolin starts, suddenly aware that he missed something while he was fleeing. "Have you been trying to kill us before today?"

"No."

Nolin turns to the others. "That utter bastard! He calls himself Kellharin, he points us towards this guy, hoping that we'd teleport in and . . . "

Malachite lowers his protesting sword completely. "We almost did. And I'm not convinced that we shouldn't."

"You can't. I am the guardian of Tuz'Zud. Now and forever more. There are none after me. They . . . ." Suddenly beneath the helm Kellharin's voice turns, and twists, and takes on a familiar sneer. "You think you can defeat me, worms? I tire of being polite. You'd best succeed, or sleep very lightly!" The voice trails off into a series of congested giggles, and with a grunt Kellharin shakes his head. "Get. OUT!" The voice issuing from his mouth stops completely.

"What was that? Who was that, then?" There is a faint note of hysteria in Velendo's voice.

"They try to control me. They know they can not. The Door will not let them. They must have fooled you into doing their work for them. That was one of the flesh-eaters. I know the taste of his mind, when he has tried to seize me before."

"What's behind the door?" asks Shara.

"A chasm to the lands below." Kellharin's voice takes on a slightly rhythmic pattern, as if reciting something he memorized long ago. "Tuz'Zud was built to protect the High Lands from those beneath. With the skill and blood of Moradin's Folk, we crafted a portal that would keep out those who sought to pass. In every generation it would choose a champion and guardian, and the honor was passed down in the family from Uncle to Nephew. He who was chosen was married only to the Door, but it was a great honor." The bitterness in his voice is caustic.

"So why are you left here?" Nolin looks attentive, noting it down for a forthcoming ballad.

"My family died of plague, and I had no other relatives who were suitable. The Ebon Door kept me alive, though. Oh, yes. While all of my friends died of old age around me, it would not let me go. I died, and it would not let me go!" His deep voice is raised in impotent fury. "Now I am a chainthrall of the Ebon door, and I will last as long as it stands. It won't tolerate otherwise."

"So where did the other dwarves go?" asks someone, quietly.

Kellharin's voice is flat. "I killed them. I stalked them through the city, and I broke their skulls with my hammer. The hammer that it makes strong."

"But . . . why?"

"WHY? I knew that when they were gone, when they were all gone, it wouldn't need me any more. But I was wrong." The bonfire-colored eyes dim for a moment. "I was wrong. And I am still here, and they have left. Those that survived. And still I guard the door. It fears to be alone, you see, so it needs a companion. I live for it, so that it may stand."

"How many did you kill?"

Kellharin shrugs his wide shoulders. "Two hundred? Two hundred and fifty? You can count their skulls, if you wish."

There's a pause, and suddenly Kellharin looks up urgently, eyes flaring. "But the ghoul thought you could kill me. It must know what you are capable of! Which means . . . " It looks around the group, its eyes throwing odd shadows across the dusty floor. "Which means you might be able actually do it. You must! Kill me!" It spreads its arms out, bearing its rapidly healing chest.

There's an embarrassed silence. Someone clears their throat. Feet are examined. Agar finally pipes up. "What happens to the Door if you die?"

"I don't know. Perhaps it opens. Perhaps it stays locked. It hardly matters."

Splinder shrugs. "We can't kill you."

Kellharin rounds on him, sledgehammer lifted in one hand. "You MUST!" His voice drops, almost too low to hear. "Please."

Velendo sighs. "We can't. We don't know what might happen to the door if we do, and it seems to be keeping back a ghoulish army -- or something - that could easily advance through here." He flexes his mind, and the sovereign wall covering the Ebon Door disappears.

Splinder considers. "What we will do is try to find someone who wants to take your place. It sounds like an honorable job. You guard the Ebon Portal, and you keep the city safe. This place could be great again, if it hasn't been stained by death. I don't think you'll be here much longer."

Nolin cuts in, a grin slicing across his face. "Of course! I can easily craft a ballad that would make any dwarf want to volunteer! We'll find someone."

"They will not be of my blood." His voice is doubting, bitter, lost.

"We'll cross that bridge when we reach it. Guard the Portal. We'll be back as soon as we can."

And within a few more seconds, Kellharin is once again alone. Alone with the Door.

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