He could do such great deeds for humanity. But his blindness, no, his madness as he conducts the symphony of his own demise blinds him to the wonders he could create.

Those words played again and again in the "Toymakers" mind. Said by the disgusting degenerate human, towards him. Kindness was not a thing he belived in, nor compassion. A being he'd shown none of this to was so convinced he had it it was almost comical.

What have I done for them? He mused to himself, locked away in his dark machines, the only light pale and artificial, the only smells and sights of metal and gears and steam and electricity, thik as the ozone. How can I be a god if no gentleness is done?

He thought on these words a long time. he barely noticed when the source stones winked out of his monitoring range. A trifle. The wench probally hid them on another plane, no matter. He would find more, or another way.

No this was the thought that consumed the corrpulent man and caused him to lie awake much longer then his life sustaining devices would have perfered. Words of simple plee, simple wishes.

Prehapse.....yes. If he was to be a god, then surely an act of kindness, a great and heroic deed, must belong in the mythos. If magic is to be destroyed, then its source must be erradicated. It was at times like this, no voices in his head but his own, that the Clockmaster thought of deeds which could be done.

Days later the spell weavers did their great magics. their one way portals opened, and the Constructs baring the symbol of the gear and eye marched into the Hive of the Colony. Their fierce magics could gian no purchase on these blasphemous combinations of magic and metal, of technology and the mystic. But even fleeing was denied them, as they turned and attempted to run they met even more blades, even more heartless faceless stares of the 'model army'.

The great mother itself could not escape its great throne chamber, and though it possessed magic to lay waste to an empire, what could the magic do against that which was neither magic nor unmagic. In the end it was brought to the ground, bleeding and screaming in frustration as Enzan's simmularicum automaton came limping before its great eye.

"You fool!" it hissed, lashing out at him with its great maw, though the golem merely held an arm out and watched with mild distaste as it shattered its teeth upon its steely exterior,"We had a deal! What of it! You will pay...you will die! the other colonies..."It began, still trying to weedle a life for itself, its children allready forgotten.

The golem doppleganger merely shook its head."How could you belive that -I- would resort to truely making a deal witht he likes of you? No, I think instead of dividing this world, I'll have it to myself. I don't need you to distract them. Nothing needs you. Your flesh is a relic. Your magic is a crutch. You are anthema." he threw back his head and laughed as the thing squirmed away, trying to roll its now flightless bulk from its tormentor.

"The others...the others..." it began, but could speak no more as its thick member was ripped from its mouth and held in the golems hands.

"Kill me? no...here is where I do belive you've confused our parties." he spoke this slowly, as if addressing an infant, then nodded imperceptably to the others as they advanced with blades drawn.



In the underdark, in the dark, red flame roared, destroying precious oxygen, burning itself away. A single eye rolled in the once slime covered caves before a dripping bit of oil caught the orb, causing it to melt with disgusting squelch followed by a sizzle, and would see no more.


"Yes...better to douse the enemies of my domain in alchemist fire then curse the darkness" He mused to himself. It wasn't very funny. but to a mad man? Such things are comic gems.

// Moved here as it shows closure to a DM plot.

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