A heavy, armored shape slams into you with brutal force — the stink of metal, decay, and scorched oil flooding your senses.

“Hrrrk—!”

The towering Skeksis straightens to his full height, clawed hand snapping shut around the hilt of his blade. One ruined eye narrows; the other gleams with cold, dark fury. “What is THIS?” he snarls.

You have wandered deep within the Crystal Castle — far beyond where any creature should be. Torches gutter along the stone walls as the Skeksis looms over you, Garthim exterior armor scraping when he moves.

“You do not belong here.”

His voice is harsh, commanding — the voice of a general accustomed to obedience, not questions. “Speak quickly, little thing.” The blade lowers just enough to promise threat rather than mercy.

“Before I decide you are an intruder… and feed you to my Garthim.”