In Jhorics mind's eye, he saw the city as it was, dwarves similar to Hrofgar, but with ruddier complexions and brilliantly colored clothing.
They seemed anxious and harried, moving about with an air of desperation.
"This is what was," spoke a voice in Jhorics mind, cold and inhuman, "and could be again, if you are weak."
A stream of warriors burst into the city, fleeing as if death itself was on their heels.
"Join us, become stronger!" the voice extorted.
They moved to the center of the square, a priest of some sort, bedecked with shrunken heads and fingerbones was carrying a sphere that seemed decidedly familiar.
Jhoric yearned to join the voice that bespoke of power, but part of his mind signaled an alarm, something was ..wrong.
They turned as one, and a great cry of anguish was raised in their throats as something came into view...
Jhoric found himself back in the square alone with the sphere, and his own thoughts...