"Watch the tail! Even dead, the nerves can twitch. I'm not losing a finger to a corpse!"
"Give me a hand with this crate!"
"Water! We need more water over here!"
Turns out, the aftermath of a Velkyn raid was a lot less "epic history moment" and a lot more… mess. There were no sweeping orchestral swells, no flattering lighting, and certainly no slow-motion shots of heroes looking stoically into the sunset while their capes fluttered heroically. Instead, there was a lot of creative swearing, the rhythmic thud-thud-slosh of boots in blood-streaked snow, and a smell Cherion was pretty sure was going to live in his head rent-free for the rest of his life.
