As he approached Olympus on a mundane errand, something in him urged him that there was aught amiss. The air fairly crackled with a feeling of dread. He rushed into the mighty doors of the castle, trusting in its sanctity. No sooner had he stepped in than he knew his mistake. A trap spell, finely attuned to his aura was set on the castle. His spells, his magical items, his power over the beast, stripped from him instantly. He ran into the central chamber and is surrounded by a swirling mist, and out of this mist emerge the jointed sections of thousands of legs. Jumping at the last opportunity for flight he dashed for the only open direction, toward the ankh and the banners of the Empire, and with his small dabbling in the arts of concealment, was able to hide away from the horde that was emerging.
After what seemed days of standing and waiting, finally help arrived, he took a chance... He sprang from his hiding place and dashed for the stairs in order to warn his friends. The instant he showed movement, the horde was upon him, every mandible grasping, every sharp fang piercing. He fell to the ground and was covered by their crushing weight. Just as it seemed all hope had faded, whirling blades slivered the bodies on top of him, decimating them to mere confetti. He was saved. His friends did not escape without casualties though, many were injured. Including his dearest friend Leah. How could he let them down like this? How could his powers of persuasion over the beasts have failed him? After assuring that his friends were in fact still living, he quickly departed for his private chambers...unable to face them with his shame.