A trip of this magnitude seemed impossible but thousands of Drow before him had proven it was not. Pushed from his homeland by a mob of displaced Duergar, Mograd and his family were forced out of their dark abode and into the blinding light of winter at midday. Mograd fell to the ground, to exhausted to go on. He lie in the snow and fell into a deep slumber. Someone was shaking his shoulders violently 'Wake up little one! Wake up, and bow before your new master!', Someone exclaimed. Mograd opened his eyes slowly and looked around, the Drow had all moved on. Perhaps they did not notice where he fell, after all the snow had been quite deep. Someone put her tentacles tight around his neck and he lost consicousness. He awoke next in chains attaching his wrist and ankles together in a single line with a number of other captives being pulled along by two fire giants. Someone cackled maniacally at the back of the line. Mograd looked back trying to spot where the voice was coming from but all he saw was snow and more snow. The days passed slowly as the group moved onward toward Thera. Finally they arrived at the borders of Thera near Darkhaven. There had been a terrible slaughter here recenly. Drow and Humans lie scattered on the roadside left to rot and decay like so many stray animals. Some of the faces he recognized as friends from the party which left him behind lying in the snow. He noticed many of them had there skulls opened and emptied. The giants brought them to the misty streets of Darkhaven where the sun was no longer present, unable to penetrate the thick mists which never subside. The subservient Giants pulled the chain and Mograd followed, the line was moving south like a poisonous centipede searching for a rock to duck under. They came to a breach in the road and went down into a cold slimy hall way. Mograd came to rest before the Queen of Illithids. He found out they were planning on sending him to a forced labor camp to mine special clear rocks. Mograd began working that day, the pace was grueling and the slackers were met with angry lashes from the guards. Slaves fell dead or fell over from exhaustion to be dragged out by the feet kicking and screaming for mercy. Mograd the drow looked very tired after a few months of working under the Illithids. The lack of sleep was the hardest thing to cope with, sometimes while he mined crystals he would slip into a dream escaping the Illithids for the brief moment before they would realize he was gone and crack the whip. Three months turned to six months, six months turned into a year. By this time Mograd was unrecognizable, his bones had been broken in many places due to abuse from the guards. These breaks recieved no splints and the way they healed caused his limbs and face to be painfully disfigured. Permitted little or no sleep He found himself in another world somewhere between the dying and the living, he did not know who he was any longer. Only a few small threads remained tethering Mograd to the reality of his situation. He talked to the slimy walls and corridors around him giving them names and discussing the importance of learning to find crystals with ones eyes shut. The Guards were impressed with Mograd, never had a slave survived so long. They decided to free him... or what was left of him...