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Description
Prologue

The beast stretched out its ten foot frame and surveys the carnage he had delivered to the ill prepared dig team, still how could they known they would face such creature.  Truly Marg was a monster in the purest sense, his four arms where all powerfully muscled, yet his upper two arms held the real power.   With strength that rivaled the mightiest of giant-kind, even titans, he could crush boulders to dust, tear armored warriors to shreds and lay waist to hundreds and that was just his physical might.  In his position he held many enchanted items that further his powers.  Bracers that rendered his arm indestructible, a leather vest which shields him lesser spells, his eyes, replaced with red steel glass, saw through illusions and protected him from mental attacks, and a ring of regeneration, but his favored was the large choker upon his neck, aside from a small amount protection it bestows upon its warier endless stamina, allowing him to fight on continually without end, and that’s what all dreagloths live for.
Marg took a deep berth and began to like his claws clean from the gore that still lay on them.  On the ground next to him was last of the would be adventurers he killed, a monk humbly dressed save fore a pair of mythrill gauntlets, was the only worthy foe of the group and still died with little effort. It was quit disappointing for Marg, as much he love the slaughter, he longed to feast on the heart of  a true opponent  “waste not want not” mused Marg and he lean downed and tore out the dead monks heart.  He looked at it for a moment, snickered and swallowed it whole.
“Marg” came a faint whisper and he raised his lower left arm up to peer into a clear gem bracelet on his wrist.   “Did you find it?” the voices asked. He looked up before answering.  “I think” he began then took a few strides foreword to the back of the cavern.  In shallowly dug hole lay the top half of a sphere a groove on top with a pearl set inside with another, black pearl, set in the center of it.  Studying the relic he saw it was mostly stone, a strange blue tented stone. It was about the size of a large fruit, about fifteen to twenty inches in diameter, if it was complete.  “Well?” the voice began, with an impatient tone.  “Its here” Marg said, “half of it.”
“Half!”  The voice said growing form a whisper to a defining shout. Marg winched expecting to be fully berated.  “No matter.” The voice sighed calming down “I had suspicions of this, stay there and search for the other half, until I summon you.”
Marg sighed, which came out more like a growl.  “Is there a problem?”  Ask the voice.
“No master.” He answered remembering his role.  “Good.  Chances are I’ll have to retrieve it myself.  Besides I grow bored of watching you massacre lesser races.  Have patients my dear Marg soon all will come to fruition.”   And then the voice was gone.
Looking at his new, Marg could not help but be displeased.  Excavation was not his purpose in life, blood was.  That was what his master promise, blood and death beyond any thing know for millenniums on the prime materiel plane.  As vague as the description was his master has the power and mind to make it happen.  So Marg will have patients, he will be content for now. As he began to sift through the dirt he noticed one of the diggers, a dwarf, had a false arm ending in various tools.  Marg grind reached reached over tore the arm off.  A quick look over the tools end and he fold out a brush and went back to work.  No reason he couldn’t try and have some fun with this.

Description
Prologue

The beast stretched out its ten foot frame and surveys the carnage he had delivered to the ill prepared dig team, still how could they known they would face such creature.  Truly Marg was a monster in the purest sense, his four arms where all powerfully muscled, yet his upper two arms held the real power.   With strength that rivaled the mightiest of giant-kind, even titans, he could crush boulders to dust, tear armored warriors to shreds and lay waist to hundreds and that was just his physical might.  In his position he held many enchanted items that further his powers.  Bracers that rendered his arm indestructible, a leather vest which shields him lesser spells, his eyes, replaced with red steel glass, saw through illusions and protected him from mental attacks, and a ring of regeneration, but his favored was the large choker upon his neck, aside from a small amount protection it bestows upon its warier endless stamina, allowing him to fight on continually without end, and that’s what all dreagloths live for.
Marg took a deep berth and began to like his claws clean from the gore that still lay on them.  On the ground next to him was last of the would be adventurers he killed, a monk humbly dressed save fore a pair of mythrill gauntlets, was the only worthy foe of the group and still died with little effort. It was quit disappointing for Marg, as much he love the slaughter, he longed to feast on the heart of  a true opponent  “waste not want not” mused Marg and he lean downed and tore out the dead monks heart.  He looked at it for a moment, snickered and swallowed it whole.
“Marg” came a faint whisper and he raised his lower left arm up to peer into a clear gem bracelet on his wrist.   “Did you find it?” the voices asked. He looked up before answering.  “I think” he began then took a few strides foreword to the back of the cavern.  In shallowly dug hole lay the top half of a sphere a groove on top with a pearl set inside with another, black pearl, set in the center of it.  Studying the relic he saw it was mostly stone, a strange blue tented stone. It was about the size of a large fruit, about fifteen to twenty inches in diameter, if it was complete.  “Well?” the voice began, with an impatient tone.  “Its here” Marg said, “half of it.”
“Half!”  The voice said growing form a whisper to a defining shout. Marg winched expecting to be fully berated.  “No matter.” The voice sighed calming down “I had suspicions of this, stay there and search for the other half, until I summon you.”
Marg sighed, which came out more like a growl.  “Is there a problem?”  Ask the voice.
“No master.” He answered remembering his role.  “Good.  Chances are I’ll have to retrieve it myself.  Besides I grow bored of watching you massacre lesser races.  Have patients my dear Marg soon all will come to fruition.”   And then the voice was gone.
Looking at his new, Marg could not help but be displeased.  Excavation was not his purpose in life, blood was.  That was what his master promise, blood and death beyond any thing know for millenniums on the prime materiel plane.  As vague as the description was his master has the power and mind to make it happen.  So Marg will have patients, he will be content for now. As he began to sift through the dirt he noticed one of the diggers, a dwarf, had a false arm ending in various tools.  Marg grind reached reached over tore the arm off.  A quick look over the tools end and he fold out a brush and went back to work.  No reason he couldn’t try and have some fun with this.