As the smoke from the explosion cleared out, Great Grandma Henriksson could only sigh. She had known the crochety old geezer since the both of them were youths, their families opposed. And in Shakespearean fashion, the two were secretly in love with each other. But of course, that tale did not end as romantically tragic as the famous play did: instead, once Great Grandpa Lalli was blinded, he turned bitter, consumed by revenge. He was no longer the man she loved.

And so, years went by, and Great Grandma Henriksson continued in her communing with the natural world, her garden the only place of respite. But eventually, as smog blanketed Gilla from the queen's wretched factories, her beloved flowers wilted away, and the bees stopped producing honey. Her family, one who always believed in the goddess' mercy, had turned a blind eye to the cruelty, caught up in their arcane studies of what few spell tomes they had. But Great Grandma had enough. She knew the Lalli clan would resort to even murdering the goddess, when she was their only salvation. She would take to the field so they younger generation would be spared, even if by a little.

And so, with a twisted walking stick, Great Grandma Henriksson hobbled towards Silver Myth Keep, surrounded by rebels falling like sacks of potatoes under the oppressive machineguns of The defenders. But they would be in for a surprise.
"O Goddess, grant me strength! Your gift of nature's splendor, ever bountiful! Release the fury of the small ones! Let your wings buzz, and your stings pierce wicked flesh! Summon Bee Hive!" She waved her staff in a circle, and a yellow hive formed on top of it. Then, she threw the bee hive as hard as her withered body could muster up to the machine gun nests, unleashing a swarm of angry bees that stung with wild abandon. Though not overtly lethal, the agony unleashed would be ample, not to mention distracting for the cause.

Meanwhile, Kaapo Lalli stood up after rolling out from the fallen semi, his pistol clutched with a clammy hand. He was but a young lad, having barely hit his early twenties. He lived a modest life as a postman, delivering letters and packages. But there was no reason to hesitate, even as he saw his former vehicle's wheel spin in place, a remnant of the debris. He was not afraid to charge into the fray, intending to pass through the hole his great Grandpa sacrificed his life to offer as he jumped in the moat. "FOR GILLAA!" He joined in the warcry, ready to shoot at the first guard he would see coming out of the hole with one hand while swimming with the other.