My time in Blingdenstone, the city of the deep gnomes, was such a short span in the measure of my years. My deed was repaid in full, for when the svirfneblin and I again met, this time in the clutches of his people, I would have been killed - truly would have preferred death - were it not for Belwar Dissengulp. Yet I was no less lost when a handless deep gnome came into my life, a svirfneblin that I had rescued from certain death, many years before, at my brother Dinin's merciless blade. Zaknafein saved me, from both the blade and the chaotic, evil, fanatic religion that damns my people. First there was Zaknafein, my father and mentor who showed me that I was not alone and that I was not incorrect in holding to my beliefs. There is little to lament in this fact, though, for those who have called me friend have been persons of great character and have enriched my existence, given it worth. I have had few friends in my life, and if I live a thousand years, I suspect that this will remain true. But loyalty is not a tenet of drow life, and as soon as a friend believes that he will gain more without the other, the union - and likely the other's life - will come to a swift end. While both parties are better off for the union, it remains secure. In Menzoberranzan, friendship is generally born out of mutual profit. “Friendship: the word has come to mean many different things among the various races and cultures of both the Underdark and the surface of the Realms.
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