The tall Silvery Blue figure watched silently as the orb depicted the growing alliance between the Orcs and the Human races. Befuddled by this unlikely covenant he racked his brain for some way to ensure that this would not come to fruition. The Drake continent would surely never be able to withstand an assault from both these races. His thoughts turned to the Evil One who had been banished so long ago. A shiver ran down his spine. Was Mordenaire even alive? Would unleashing the Pattern Reave be the Drake's salvation or their epitaph? Behemut needed time to ponder all these things. Time he didn't have. Time he needed to bolster his dwindling Drake population. The great one lifted his head and once again took slowly to the sky. For now he would continue to grant his gift to the few deserving heroes he could find. Perhaps if he could find enough of them, he could forget the Reave altogether.

He let loose a gutteral bugle and in a blink was gone...