|"Frontier's whatever you want it to be."|
The God Staff stood before a towering mountain, shrouded in dwindling twilight. He struck the earth with his staff; it answered with a soft rumble. He struck again; the rumble swelled to a roar, and shook free a storm of granite. The third strike brought silence. Silence, until a seismic shriek cracked the skies, and the mountain broke apart.
“Imagine that.” The God’s audacious grin slashed the growing night. “A real weapon.”