Grumorum gazed happily at the box from beneath his dirty eyebrows. "Stupid mortals," he muttered, "It was right here the whole time."
Running his hand along the embossed gold letters on the box, clearly spelling the word 'Bizinoquin', despite the immense amounts of dust they had gathered, Grumorum grinned to himself.

Tossing a handful of jerky to the rather vicious looking dog guarding the box, Grumorum began to hack away at the lock with his stolen sword, 'Call of the Void', occasionally pausing to shake the dog off his leg.
"Good puppy," he mumbled when the dog finally took the hint and gave up biting the diminuitive, dirty deity.

Soon enough, the lock on the box was cut through and the tiny door swung open.
"Well it sure as hell took you long enough." quipped a small voice from somewhere inside the box. "C'mon then, help me out" it continued as a tiny hand suddenly jutted out of the box. Grumorum dropped the pilfered blade and took the hand, slowly leading out a slightly larger creature, that looked something like a gnome but less...ridiculous. "Speaking of hell, this place has sure gone to it since I've been in that damn box."

"Dad, this IS hell." Grumorum answered, helping to dust off the ancient God.

"Oh, sure, you say that now. Back when I was young, this was a prime piece of territory. Meadowlands and this beautiful river, far as the eye could see. Guess a lot can change in...How long has it been, Sluf?"

"'Bout 60,000 years, Dad."
"That long?"
"I think so. But I wasn't counting, to be honest."
"Ahh well. Hell with it, you got me out anyhow, s'all that counts. I take it you're done with Asgaard then?"
"Yea, yep. And I collected those souls, just like you said. Now we got slaves."
Bizinoquin smiled down at his filthy progeny. "Attaboy" he said with a snicker. "Shall we then?"
"Sure thing dad. I brought the Stump." Just then, a writhing, dangerous looking cadre of roots surrounded by a huge block of wood came around the corner.
"You thought of everything. I love you Grum."
"You too dad."
"STUMP!" shouted the stump, stumpily.
Bizinoquin smiled one last time and snapped his finger, and all was normal in Thera once more. Or at least, as normal as Thera gets.
*******