The bark splintered beneath Morvakin's claws, digging in for purchase on the great branch they lingered upon. Assuming one of their more favored forms, a twisted automaton of bone, plant, fur and flesh, they watched the latest intrusion into their grove with curiosity. The stench of Hum, of acrid death and sweet life was upon them, these scuttling creations that feasted on both flora and fauna, leaving ropes of silver in their wake.
The God observed the Arachnids for a time, the first sentient creatures they had laid eyes upon. They had heard their siblings declaration echoing throughout the grove, promising great deeds, and yet to Morvakin's eyes they were pitiful things. Those that wandered too close to their unseen watcher found themselves rent asunder by ferocious claws and the snap of jaws, sent to their creator's true realm by Morvakin's own hand. For amongst the Children of Alnaeus, Morvakin had always enjoyed the physical application of their powers.
Eventually, they grew bored yet inspired of these eight-legged creations. Deigning instead to return to the deep heart of their grove where they would sleep. In slumber, they mused and allowed their roots to sink deep into the Earth.
Morvakin observes the Arachnids in their Grove and slumbers, conserving their Power for something greater.