A creature of the night gazed down upon the world, stricken by the sights, aghast at all the pain. A leap, a scratch, a screech, a flap membranous wings unfurled, a flight upon the clouds once more, is all that could remain. 'No need for me', for easily fears had reached their peak, a relic of a bygone age when cellar doors would creak. 'Man can make his own pain, the need for I no more, below the glen, I'll go again, like we have once before. But come a time, when mankind, can with themselves peace keep, from out our dusky homes we'll crawl, and chaos we will reap.'