If Under fell, if Over leaped, if life was death, if death life reaped, Something rises from the gloom to make the Underland a tomb. Hear it scratching down below, rat of long forgotten snow, Evil cloaked in coat of white, will the warrior drain your light? What will turn the warrior weak? What do burning Gnawers seek? Just a barely speaking pup who holds the land of Under up. Die the baby die his heart, die his most essential part. Die the peace that rules the hour. Gnawers have their key to power.