You see it - an ambush. Four with crossbows, watching from the shadows in upper story windows. One leaning against the wall forty feet ahead with his finger twitching nervously over his knife. Three at a table, barely visible through swinging saloon doors, but each with a hatchet in hand listening for the sound of fighting. You feel every grazing shift of the wind, hear the distant crake of carrion crows unaware of the feast that is about to be laid out.

You see beyond the walls of the buildings, even. No, beyond... something else. Another kind of wall. One distant, but ever-present. Five titanic figures, shrouded in the haze of vast distances, looking over you. They speak, but you cannot know their tongue. One commands the others, a theatrical gesture wrought across the entire sky, and the other four hurl stones of mountainous proportion. What calamity have you witnessed?

And in an instant, they vanish from your sight. One of the crossbowmen shot your leg.