Despite ubiquitous divine activity, Tyumesch vehemently maintained that there could be no gods. Indubitably, this belief must have influenced the assignment of the banal but accurate moniker now universally appended to his forename. Tyumesch insisted that given enough breeding stock, time, and virgin sacrifices, he could cross hybrid monsters like chimaerae with any other strain to achieve a unique new species. (Incidentally, the mad wizard held that such a transformation could take place naturally, given innumerable generations. But being mortal, he decided that it were better to direct events personally.) Now the astute reader may wonder how selection by--ahem--intelligent agency could prove the natuarlistic conjecture, but I remind such an observer that Tyumesch was in fact a few silver short of a gold piece, as the saying goes. More indecorous readers may stumble rather upon the logistical details of the scheme, but presumably such an inquiring mind is further equipped with suitable powers of imagination such that further elaboration becomes unnecessary.
Today's selection constituted a sub-level of a larger subterranean complex, isolated from the rest of the "dungeon" by a few carefully arranged spell traps. The exterior sections, those shaped by men, contained laboratories and nurseries for adolescent abominations. The lower chambers composed a sort of arena, where adult instars of various breeds could be pitted together in mortal struggle for hereditary supremacy. The results proved quite disorderly, I can assure you.
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