UR-GRUEUr-grues are thought to be the shades of fallen Implementors. Skilled in black sorcery, the ur-grue can envelop itself in a personal zone of darkness which neither lamp nor flame can penetrate. Sunlight is the only thing it fears. It is unwise even to speak of this utterly evil entity.
What little is known about ur-grues is based on a random encounter in the year 966. A humble peasant stumbled into the lair of this creature deep under the Mithicus Mountains, and was able to discover that an ur-grue is actually a fallen Implementor (resembling nothing more than an old man) who had assumed control of the body of a grue, and was using it as his guise.
It is not clear who this particular ur-grue was (or if there are even more than one). Some believe it was Belegur, the Devil, who had taken upon himself the vessel of a grue. Others believe it was Dwaarnyn the Dark-Nosed Ur-Grue. For all practical purposes, the identity of this evil being, and ur-grues in general, are shrouded in mystery.
THE UR-GRUE OF 966 GUE
This particular ur-grue was noteworthy for his theft of the Coconut of Quendor from his former companions, the Implementors. He created a vortex of laughing darkness which boiled up from underfoot. This zone of darkness spread across the Ethereal Plane of Atrii where the Implementors dwelled, reaching out with long black fingers. The Coconut fell into the eyes of the vortex and disappeared (along with a stack of lunch meat and bits of cutlery from the Implementors' table). With a final chortle, the vortex drew itself together, turned sideways and flickered out of existence. The relic was brought to his lair deep under the Mithicus Mountains, where the plunder of many kingdoms laid in a vast, sparkling mound (of at least 69,105 treasures) of the type often employed by dragons as a mattress.
Although his motives are unclear, it is possible that this ur-grue hoped to seize control of the entire world. The Implementors themselves, who had witnessed the theft, had no idea was the ur-grue might do with the Coconut, spectulating that he could crumble the foundations of reality, plunge the world into a thousand years of darkness, even force them to have to buy their own lunch.
When the humble peasant entered the lair of the ur-grue, a bolt of lightning zigzagged down the passageways, struck the adventurer's lantern and blew it into little, tiny bits. The encounter itself has been described in the personal journal of this peasant:
As I glanced around the chamber, the shadow yawned
and stretched. “At least we meet.” The shadow’s chuckling subsided. “I rarely
get visitors,” it admitted in a wistful tone. “A pity I have to destroy you. An
interesting question,” continues the shadow conversationally, “is HOW to
destroy you. Not a trivial decision, no. I must select a spell that will
enhance my image, a magic worthy of my thoroughly evil reputation.”
The shadow muttered thoughtfully to itself. “Let's
see, now. A spell. CLEESH? No; too silly. ESPNIS? Hmm. Better not; he/she might
snore. I know!” cried the shadow with delight. “GIRGOL, the Time Stop spell!
Love it. You'll make a hilarious statue.”
At that moment I rotated the bubble mirror. The beam
of sunlight reflected directly into the core of the shadow! The thing within stood
revealed to me for one brief instant. Then my sanity was spared by a blinding flash
and concussion that threw me hard against the far wall... The sound of sobbing
jolted me to my senses.
In the corner lay a feeble old man, bent with grief.
His robes were tattered, his white hair scorched by flame. I slowly rose and
drew closer, bending low to touch his shoulder. With a snap, ten bony fingers clamped around my throat!
“I can always count on fools like you for sympathy,”
chuckled the not-so-feeble old man as he held my windpipe shut. “Still, though
your mind is weak, your body is young and strong. It will make a suitable
vessel until I can find another grue.” He grabbed my hair, pulled my head back
and directed my eyes into his own. “Relax. This won't hurt a bit.”
My fear turned to resentment, then to rage as the
old man violated my mind, absorbing my compassion like a sponge as he fought to
take possession of your soul. But my soul was too flooded with an overabundance
of compassion.
“Enough!”
The fingers on my neck dropped away, leaving me
gasping but alive. I stumbled backwards to find the old man leaning against the
wall, breathing hard, his eyes brimming with tears.
“Enough,” he cried again, gesturing towards the
exit. “Take what you want and leave this place! I cannot bring myself to murder
one so virtuous. Go!” His voice is bitter with despair. “Leave me to wallow in
Compassion.” With these last words, the broken man faded into nothingness.
Once the Coconut of Quendor had been retrieved, the a series of mightly earthquakes wracked the earth, causing the lair and local network of tunnels to collapse.