Grash May 13th

“Your sensor appears in a large room, mostly dark, lit only by torches that line the walls, casting flickering shadows across the room. The windows have been bricked up and blocked, allowing no daylight in, and the second and third stories of the building have been knocked out, so the ceiling reaches maybe 35 feet up. This looks like it was once an audience chamber or throne room. There is a dais at the far end that’s raised up a few steps, debris around as if old furniture has been cast the side. On the dais is a plain, dark metal chair, a simple black chair. Seated in the chair is a skeletal creature, maybe seven feet tall, wearing chain mail, eyes just deep pools of blackness. Against the back of the chair is a wicked looking glaive, with a jagged blade. The skeletal creature sitting in this throne is looking intently at two Orcs that are kneeling on the ground, bowed down before him. 

He is speaking in orcish, but as you cast Tongues from your scroll it becomes clear, mid-sentence. 

‘For the last time. First, gnolls, now whoever these intruders were, humans, elves! I will not have more incursions into my city. Stand and bow your heads.’ There is a double thump.

And you see the two orc heads rolling to the floor, the Orcs falling over, instantly dead. As the creature looks around, as it standing now you can see that its legs just kind of fade into shadow as it floats just above the floor. And, as it swings the glaive down, you can see that although mostly unadorned, the creature does wear a ring on one of its skeletal fingers, a black ring that shadows seems to ooze out of. As the orcish heads fall to the ground, the ring sort of pulses blood red slightly, and as it does you can see it is as if all of the blood is being sucked out of the bodies. The creature, Grash, takes it in, lifts his shoulders like taking a deep breath, and looks around, seeming to speak again.

He is yelling in Drankorian, ‘Come report’. A thinner, wraspier, wraith-like voice replies, ‘The Orcs are distracted today. No new leads from the city. It’s been five weeks since we found anything magical. It’s the time to move on.’ From Grash, a slamming sound, then, ‘No! I’m sure there is more in this city. Drive them harder! Use the zombies, search all night if need be!’ Then silence.

You see Grash pacing, holding up his finger and twisting the ring, and as he twists you can almost feel through your spell the energy in this thing. He then lifts his hand and raises it towards the ceiling. And you see these two shriveled bodies of the Orcs stand up as he takes their heads and slams them back on their bodies. He holds up his fist, and points, almost as if he is directing them like puppets, as they exit the hall. Grash then returns to the black chair, sets down his glaive, and pauses for a moment. He then crooks his finger, and eight shadows detach from the walls, vaguely humanoid in shape, and drift towards Grash. He begins to whisper to them. 

You can hear the sound of Grash whispering, ‘Go forth. Find these invaders. Drain them. Bring their cursed bodies back to me. Go, my friends.`

As the speaking ends, you see him touch each shadow in turn, with his hand that has the ring on it. They shimmer for a moment and then fade back against the wall. As they drift away he sits, looking down for a moment, and then reaches behind him and pulls out from some case or container a scroll, and starts to pull it down to read it, as the vision fades….”

Immediately casting again:

“The sensor reappears above Grash’s shoulder, as you begin trying jot down the words on the scroll. As fast as you write the words disappear, as it seems he is reading a spell off the scroll, as he begins to speak.

You hear Grash speaking, his words resonant with magical energy, “…report more invaders, continued failure treasure-seeking. Orcs will be ready to strike by autumn; Uzgash will fall. But rest treasure remains hidden to me.” And you hear the sound of pacing.

You can see that Grash is pacing back and forth in this room, seeming to just be waiting for something. Five minutes later he stops and he throws his glaive down, angrily. His pacing pauses for a moment and then he reaches and he picks it up and slams it into the wall, carving chunks of stone which go flying. And with that you see nothing else before the spell fades.”