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...