His focus is directed toward idiograms of concealment and protection. Holding his staff reverently up before him he passes it over his noble yet damaged garb. He then hurries low across the clearing toward the main wall. The statue seems lifeless if not for immeasurably small pin holes of light emanating from its iron-cast eyes. The statue speaks.
Lightning streams forth from the statue in thin spiderweb-like strands.
Mahnhagroth absent of his staff begins climbing a grand stair. One could imagine that in the days of the Citadel's splendor that humans and elves alike stepped softly up the rigid marble steps as Mahnhagroth does now. The citadel seems near empty and it is obvious that its normal denizens are off on important errands, because while all visable trace of living beings is gone there lies much garbage and waste strewn about almost randomly. The stench is terrible. Before Mahnhagroth lies the paragon of all portals and doors.