(I've been working on the idea for this fanfiction for a ridiculously long time, and I'm finally posting it. So, if you're reading this, please, if there is even a speck of kindness in that abyss you call a heart, READ AND REVIEW. You don't know how much it would mean to me. I'm a sad little review-feeder of a fanfic author.

This fic is based on the Neverwinter Nights expansion "Shadows of Undrentide", follows the adventures of a kobold named Deekin, and will continue into the expansion "Hordes of the Underdark". I assume you know what a kobold is...if you don't, it's basically a scaly little lizardman.

Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights is property of Bioware, Floodgate Entertainment, Atari, Forbidden Realms, Wizards of the Coast and Dungeons and Dragons. Hope I didn't miss anyone :P I wish I could say the PC was my own, but it was created using the aforementioned's design system, so technically, it isn't. Oh well. I wrote the fic, at least.)

Dependence I: Heartsinger

Chapter One

Across northern Faerun stretches the vast expanse of snowy plains known as the Silver Marches. For miles and miles, blinding whiteness is all the eye can see; but, on the southerly edge of the Silver Marches is a mountainous area called the Nether Mountains, named for the ancient Netherese monarchs who carved their empires from the tops of these mountains so long ago.

In one section of the Nether Mountains in particular, the mountains splayed on either side of a ravine cracked almost obscenely through the frozen earth, a narrow pass lining the crevice's insides and leading to the entrance of a large cave at the bottom. A clan of kobolds had made themselves at home within this cave generations ago, ruled by a white dragon who dwelt in the cave's lower levels, guarded by the vicious kobolds called Ice Hounds he had trained to protect his patience rather than his life.

The dragon himself was named Tymofarrar, and was young and rather obese for a dragon. Nevertheless, he considered himself to be very intelligent--and he was, for his particular species--and cultured, going so far as to train one of the kobolds to be a bard. When bored, Tymofarrar called his little bard over from his corner of the cave to sing a ballad or two, just as he was now. Tymofarrar closed his eyes and heeded the ballad's words until he bored of it, then dismissed his entertainer. With a curt bow, the kobold obeyed and returned to the corner of the cave deemed his own.

This kobold's name was Deekin.

Now, Deekin was very intelligent and imaginative for a kobold; the first thing he did upon reaching his corner was open up a musty old tome and start reading. Reading was often the only interesting thing to do around here--or at least, the only safely interesting thing, as getting squashed by a fat dragon or paralyzed and used to pick said dragon's teeth was far from boring. His options were to read, count the half-eaten corpses sloppily strewn about Tymofarrar's cave, practice playing his lute or do nothing at all. Of course, he would have loved to write, but there was nothing to write about. Nothing anyone would want to read about, that is.

So, Deekin gingerly flipped through the worm-eaten pages and fantasized about the exciting adventures many a noble hero had gone on--of the crazed emperors they'd overthrown, of the many bizarre planes they'd traveled, of the odd and wondrous creatures they'd seen, of the piles of treasure and fame they'd accumulated. Deekin loved to read about this sort of thing, but even more loved to daydream about adventuring himself. Of course, he thought with a disconsolate glance about the dim cave he'd spent the majority of his life in, the odds of escaping his greedy master were a billion to one.

That was when Tymofarrar called him back over.

Wondering what Tymofarrar wanted--he couldn't possibly want another ballad so soon after the first?--Deekin closed the book over its ribbon to mark the spot he'd left off at and skittered over.

"You wants Deekin, Boss?" the kobold squeaked curiously with a nervous shift from foot-to-foot, gazing at the scaly white behemoth which towered over him.

"You know of J'Nah, don't you?" the dragon queried with a blast of bad breath Deekin did his best to ignore. "The elf from the gnoll caves in the High Forest?"

"Uhh, yep, Deekin knows," Deekin affirmed, trying not to wrinkle his nose. "That be the lady who sends Boss letters, right?"

"Yes," the dragon smiled, pleased at his servant's assertiveness. "Yes, that is the one. We've arranged a bargain, you see."

"A bargain, Boss?"

"Yes...have the chief get his strongest kobolds down here and I will explain," the dragon instructed, flipping aside a large square stone with his tail to reveal the entrance to a tunnel.

Deekin nodded to this order and slipped past the overturned rock into the tunnel, carved out of ground so black and solidly frozen it seemed to be stone. Crawling through it, he admired the tunnel's width; it had been designed by Tymofarrar to allow him exit out of the cave without having to wade through winding tunnels and scrabbling kobolds. Of course, the dragon was too big to fit through the tunnel in his usual form, and had to transform human to use it. In addition to leaving the cave, this human form was also used for writing in a journal of sorts Tymofarrar kept. Deekin was the only of the dragon's kobolds to know of this form; for this, he felt special.

Deekin rarely used this tunnel, as Tymofarrar seldom invited him on his trips out of the cave. Of course, that hadn't kept Deekin from sneaking out and spying on his master from time to time.

Coming to the end of the tunnel now, Deekin squeezed through the tight gap between the tunnel's exit and the back of a large boulder concealing it. He supposed his master pushed the rock aside when using this way out, but the kobold hadn't enough strength to do this quickly, and Tymofarrar grew fast impatient for one who had lived centuries already.

Fortunately, the cave's main entrance was adjacent the secret one, and Deekin darted into it. At his arrival, several guarding kobolds rapidly drew their weapons, lowering them only after Deekin frantically insisted he brought news from the Boss. That out of the way, they led him past an expansive set-up of various traps and through several looming, puzzle-locked gates into the heart of the kobolds' miniature city.

There really wasn't much to be said of the small city, if it could be called even that. It was more a combination warehouse and meeting place, with old stolen crates heaped with old cloth and dried meat, an occasional half-eaten wolf or human corpse by their sides. Then there were the kobolds themselves, a ragtag bunch, generally thin and dull-scaled and garbed in plain brown rags. Looking about the place with shifty eyes, they stopped and chattered nervously, an occasional one darting from place to place, stopping only to hesitantly take a handful of meat from a crate or corpse, shove it in its mouth and move on.

At Deekin's arrival, the many kobolds successively stopped and stared at him. They recognized the bard for his kempt look and his lustrous green scales, indicative of being personally pampered by their draconic master. Envy rising in their gamey chests, they called over their chief, whose name was Arzig. There was something of a to-do as someone went into an off-shoot of the cavern and returned with the Chief Arzig. Despite the golden bracelets and somewhat more colorful clothing the chief wore, he was as thin as the rest and also seemed somewhat jealous of Deekin, as he gave him an irritated look and strutted over.

"Grr, what you wants?" Chief Arzig demanded crossly, not keen on the spoiled little pet venturing up here and threatening his status.

"The Boss wants you and the strongest kobolds downs in his cave," Deekin explained, backing up a submissive step to show the chief respect. "Boss has something important to says." The kobolds looked to each other, then to Chief Arzig. He bore a thoughtful expression--or his best attempt at one--for a silent moment, then nodded and called to his best warriors to follow him into the cave's lower depths. There were quite a lot of them, Deekin noticed; it was no small crowd tagging along as they trod past the poorly scrawled sign marking the passage leading to the lower level.

At the end of the passage was another looming wooden gate, so sized to accustom Tymofarrar, were he to ever leave this way; Chief Arzig confidently pushed this gate aside and strode on in.

"Master Jumper Klumph!" Arzig snapped impatiently. "You lets us through to sees the Boss, yip!" At this order, a bright-eyed gray kobold with a rusted silver rod in hand cast a reluctant look over.

"Yip! We goes over this again and again, you not goes down or Boss gets mad and eats me!" Klumph responded defiantly.

"Grr, you gots no choice!" Arzig barked, motioning furiously to Deekin beside him; Deekin inched back at this. "Me gots weakling singing kobold here, and him says Boss wants us down there, yip yip!" Klumph gave a loud sigh, then walked over and examined Deekin.

"Yip, that be him alright," Klumph decided, walking back to his previous spot and raising the rod in the air. "You hears him, yip yip! You opens up passage and they goes see the Boss!" At this command, several kobolds who had been standing despondantly by raised their heads attentively and strode up a platform, standing in line; Deekin always liked this part, and it had been forever since he'd last seen it.

Hanging above the ground just in front of the platform was a large stone container of sorts, suspended by a rope that was attached to a heavy stone shaped like a human head that blocked the entrance down to the Boss's cave. One after another, the kobolds gave a delighted shriek and leapt into the container, piling on each other; with each added kobold, the container's weight increased and the stone gradually began to rise, finally lifting altogether and allowing entrance into the caves below.

The others raced ahead through the newly opened entrance; Deekin clapped and cheered at the performance briefly, then followed.

Once they were through, the "jumpers" clambered out of the stone container, decreasing its weight again. The stone crashed to the ground with a loud noise that startled Deekin, but he quickly caught himself. There were other, dangerous things in these levels to be concerned with--namely, the Ice Hounds.

The Ice Hounds were half kobold, half white dragon--straight from Tymofarrar's own gene pool, of course. Tymofarrar had specially trained them to be formidable fighters, whose hearts were as cold as their freezing attacks. They stood completely still as Deekin and the kobolds from the higher levels passed by, but he could feel their icy eyes watching them, and shivered. Tymofarrar had instructed them only to ambush those from outside the cave, but Deekin was at great unease in their presence nonetheless, and much relieved once they got past the areas the Ice Hounds mainly dwelled in.

Past this was the cattle pen, where the heads of cattle Tymofarrar fed upon were kept, tended to by an Ice Hound named Klonk "the Freezer". Second only to Deekin, Klonk was one of the Boss's favorite pets, and Deekin couldn't help but feel a burst of rivalry as they went by him.

Traipsing over the thin path of stepping stones that bridged the dank, shallow stream before them, the kobolds at last made it into their master's den. Deekin thought he had been rather quick of it, but Tymofarrar showed express displeasure at having had to wait. He paid Deekin little concern, though; there were more pressing matters at hand.

"You're probably wondering why I called you down here," Tymofarrar started in grandly, though suspecting his conversation was wasted here, as several kobolds' eyes had glazed over in boredom already. With a sigh, he added, "I'll make myself brief.

"Not too far from here lives an old dwarf, named Drogan Droganson. He possesses four magical artifacts: a mask, a dragon's tooth, a mummified hand, and a small, tower-shaped statuette. It is the latter--the tower statue, that is--which I am most interested in. Drogan's home shouldn't be hard to find; he lives on a large farm just outside the town of Hilltop, which is, as the name suggests, atop a hill.

"I want you to sneak into the dwarf's home, take the artifacts and bring them back to me. Deekin, and only Deekin, will carry the tower statue to me. Is that understood?" The kobolds nodded in unison. "Good. Drogan is an experienced wizard, so try to avoid fighting him. However, if you do get yourselves in trouble, you can use this." Using the tips of two talons, Tymofarrar gingerly picked a small dagger off the top of a tall, sawed-off stalagmite and tossed it to the floor before the kobolds. A small puddle of neon green liquid began to drip from the blade, pooling beneath it with an acidic hiss.

"This dagger is laced with with extremely toxic, fast-acting poison," Tymofarrar explained. "It is to be carried by the leader of the expedition. Who that will be, you can settle out amongst yourselves. Now leave me, and organize yourselves for the mission." At this, the dragon turned away disinterestedly.

Chief Arzig bowed anyway and grabbed the dagger by its dark, ornately carved hilt, motioning to the other kobolds.

"Yip! You hears the Boss, we goes now!" he commanded, and was answered by a chorus of yips as the kobolds flowed out of the den, back to the upper level. Deekin lingered.

"Umm, Boss?" he inquired nervously. "You be very sure we shoulds be stealing from dwarf man? That not sounds very nice..."

"Deekin," the dragon said slowly with an agitated flick of his tail, "you're trying my patience."

"Deekin be s-sorry, Boss," Deekin whimpered, cringing fearfully. "Me just--"

"Gather your writing supplies," Tymofarrar interrupted, back still turned to him. "I want you to write about your adventure as you travel. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Yep...that be what Deekin wants," Deekin replied quietly, mentally adding, "but not likes that." Aloud, he simply stepped over to his corner and gathered up an armful of papers, several inkwells, a dozen pens, some food and water--he didn't know how long this would take--and a leather sack to put it all in. Shouldering the sack and a weathered lute with a leather shoulder strap, he found a small rapier he'd taken off one of Tymofarrar's elven victims long ago, slid it into a sheath and attached it to his belt, then got ready to leave.

"Wait." Tymofarrar instructed. Deekin obediently stopped; turning around, Tymofarrar raised a large, fisted claw above him, then unclasped it. A wrinkled sheet of parchment fluttered down to Deekin from the dragon's scaly white palm, and Deekin caught it. Looking it over, he found it was a map, detailing a shortcut from the Nether Mountains to Drogan's home.

"Thanks, Boss," Deekin said gratefully, folding the map and slipping it into his pack. Tymofarrar didn't respond, so Deekin bowed quickly and left the way the others had.

Deekin started to wish he'd gone with the others, feeling thoroughly unnerved as he passed the Ice Hounds by. Without a group to lose himself in, Deekin was all the Ice Hounds had to set their chilling eyes upon. He was very thankful when at last he reached the back of the stone head blocking the way up, and pounded on it as he called to the others until it lifted and he ducked in beneath it. He would have gone this way earlier, but he wouldn't have been expected, and would've been purposefully ignored if he'd been heard at all.

He arrived in the upper level to find the group was already organized, and was to be led by a smoky-scaled kobold named Urko, who proudly carried the poisonous dagger in a sheath on his belt. When Deekin asked the chief why he wasn't leading them, Arzig answered that he had to watch over the cave while they were gone. Deekin nodded and said nothing more, but it was in his opinion that Chief Arzig was just a coward.

The kobolds going on the expedition were foolhardy in their confidence and anxious to start off as soon as possible, angry with Deekin for making them wait. Deekin apologized and followed them out of the cave, but hoped they were as ready as they thought they were.

But then another part, a guilty part of him, secretly wished they weren't ready at all. He didn't feel right about this...heroes didn't attack or steal from people, unless they were rich, greedy misers who oppressed the poor. Maybe Drogan was a rich, greedy, oppressive miser, Deekin thought hopefully. But he doubted it.

(Well, there you have it. Chapter Two is coming soon. Please review. PLEASE??)