Shuluth watched through JANINE’S eyes as the Fey owl sweep in a third time, summoning streaks of lightning to stroke down on the Drow priestess. It rumbled with displeasure as the foolish Ogres lurched and grabbed at the familiar. Shuluth could sense that the female Drow was stunned, her nerves on edge and her flesh seared from the effects of the multiple Shocking Grasp spells. She was a lost cause, and a failure. “Lolth takes no pleasure in weakness,” it whispered into the Drow’s mind. “You have failed. Die now, and know that only torture awaits you in the afterlife.” Shuluth withdrew his connection to the dominated Drow, and focused his attention of the pathetic human called Enoch. Night was coming, and more flesh would be gathered for the Pits. The box would come in due time, providing the opportunity to unlock the gate that held Lolth captive. The Darkening could not be stopped. The Underdark would rise, and the Overdark would be forged.