[i]Many hundreds of miles away from the conflict, deep below the crust, something stirred. It had smelt something interesting on the Northern wind. Something sweeter than fear, more nutritious than the bones of children. It had been many centuries since Shashous-Throth had tasted the flesh of a god. Through the blackness, into the night air. It was brisk up top, fresh and cool. There was a small, rocky hole in the ground, grown over with wild timothy grass. Nothing special. No dragon's lair. A man could fit through if he went in on his hands and knees. From that hole, something silently emerged. It slipped across the damp earth like black lightning, in the direction of the divine conflict. It desired no battle, only meat. Let the prey group together. Let them fight and argue and flex their power. It was only a matter of time until one got separated from the pack. [/i]