"LORD ELYSIAR IS WITH THE DWARVEN REBELLION!"
The Primordial Villain climbed the processional stair of the dwarven capital one step at a time, and the mountain rearranged itself around his mood.
A hundred crossbow bolts dove at him from the balconies. A crosswind swatted the entire volley sideways into the shaft. Then the balconies themselves leaned outward, politely, like servants pouring wine, and emptied their crossbow lines off into the dark after it.
The screaming on the terrace changed register.
"The stone threw them off! The stone itself!"
"The mountain's helping him! The mountain wants us dead!"
"Hold the line! HOLD, DAMN YOU!"
A sergeant with a two-handed maul broke ranks and charged down the stair, bellowing his clan at the thing in dark armor. "KORVASH! CLAN KORVASH FIGHTS TO THE END!"
Frost took him mid-swing. The Primordial Villain walked past without turning his head, and the statue stayed exactly where its courage had carried it, maul raised forever.
