A male elf with one swollen leg and a hideously distended belly that has ripped his clothes open, holds three black arrows triumphantly above his head in a raised fist. On his head is a pointed crown and his cloak catches the wind. Plants wither and die at his feet.
The obese and crowned elf stands with bow raised and shoots a black arrow in a high arc towards a walled city. Above the city wall is a tall tower with three distinct spires. As the arrow soars the elf’s intestines pour out of his stomach and pool by his feet.
A cloud of mist erupts from the city covering it completely except for the points of the three spires of the tallest tower which can be made out at the top.
The mist has lessened in the city and the people leave through the gates. The figures closest to the gates are clutching their belly or their head. Further from the city they stoop, some having collapsed to their knees. Further away still they lie down, parts of their body’s missing with little wisps of mist where limbs should be.