Wolfen sat back, Skemmdarvargur on his shoulder. Glancing into the pasta dimension, he took note of the new ones that had not broken the frail rules of his universe. He knew that, even though he and the other mods ruled supreme, there would come a time when he would have to leave and sighed, his omnipotent fedora sagging to his forehead.
Dream, on the other hand, was in the midst of the new ones, keeping a close, silent eye on them. Should they even think of violating the precious balance of this world, they should be met with a Shadow Ball of banning. He then though to his other projects, dejected at their slow progress. More than anything, he wished for the world to return to normal.
Sarah desperately wanted out. She despised Wolfen's attitude and disapproved of Dream's rare appearance, but continued to do her job despite the mental train ramming her thought. Petting her cat, she stepped it, hoping that, at least this time, all of them would appear and do an honest day's work. When she stepped in, she was surprised.
Cleric stood before all of them, speaking softly. "My faithful mods," he said, "You have served me faithfully throughout your time here, and I feel that you deserve a reward for your hard work." Three golden crowns, crested with the blood of the trolls once fallen to them, appeared on their heads. They were admins now, and all of their worries disappeared.