Meanwhile, as our heroes made their way to Steamfont to dispatch the villain Lhancelot, the dreaded Moon of Phenyo still pressed down on the inhabitants of Norrath. The nearby gnomes cowered in Ak'Anon, filled with dread. The hobbits of Rivervale hurled up their mutton mince pies and apple tarts, sick to their stomachs with the thought of being crushed. Even the hardy barbarians of Halas drank their mead in silence, bereft of the joyful ruckus that would usually grace their drinking halls.
The Gods must deem this a dire quest indeed, to unleash the Moon of Phenyo upon the lands in such a reckless fashion; a last ditch effort on their part to eradicate Lhancelot's Dildo Machine.
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It was as if Norrath collectively held its breath, awaiting Tuluven to deliver them from their horrid fate...