Magma rolls down the side of the mountain. A heard of wild goats try to navigate around it but they fail, fall one by one and are burned in a woompfh of sparks, ash and the occasional surprised maah!
A little village of mud huts lies in the path of the flow and frightened villagers are running away with a few possessions or trying to drag along reluctant cows. The village oracle is lying in a bloody mess on the ground in the square because he did not predict this at all. He said everything was going to be fine, but with a broken jaw and concussion he wont be saying much for the short remainder of his existence. At least he'll sleep through it all.
