"Right..." he grunted to himself. Bloody thrice-damned dwarves and their thrice-damned innovations.
Looking down the tunnel, he could see a whole bloody platoon of armored dwarves heading their way, four of them carrying... What were those?
Before they got much closer, the Prince leapt from the high ledge, and hit the ground running.
Clickclickclickclick
A sound reminiscent of a rattling chain reached his ears as those four dwarves, two on with side of a group of sixteen, cranked large handles on their contraptions.
Then he felt blinding pain, and stumbled backward several steps. Looking down through pain-narrowed eyes, he saw no less than seven crossbow bolts protruding from his chest, midsection, and legs.
He narrowed his eyes further, and grit his teeth as his eyes burned with brilliant light. Anger overtook him at the audacity of these fucking dwarves who had just turned him into a Gods damned porcupine.
He took a step forward. Another step. Each one sundered the rock below him as his famous rage, tempered by pain and his wounded pride, flared forth.
Quite simply, he lost control. His form slipped, and it felt spectacular as hot scales emerged from otherwise human flesh. He could feel his teeth lengthen into fangs, pressing into his lips. A brief pain in his head flared up as a single long spike suddenly protruded from the side of his head.
His sword was held in a hand that was no longer human, fingers thickened and clawed, his whole arm nearly twice as large as normal - this was a considerable change, seeing as how, in size, he took after his father.
The following shout was more of a roar, shaking the very stones of the cavern.
"I. HATE. YOU. FUCKING....DWARVES!!!"