Larksong Grotto it's a march to extinction with your god in step

typhon turned before he was addressed. anger no longer crackled off of him in thunderclap waves, though his expression was inscrutable as he raised his proud jaw to regard the berserkr.

hail, he said.  his eyes were soft as he noticed the tension in prophet's face.  he wanted to know what lay behind it.  he expected he would soon find out.  biting his tongue, typhon waited — for a barrage of frustration, for exile, for whatever administrative purpose the man had sought him for.