"Alright. So that's how you want to play it," Frederick spat. His crimson blood was dripping off of the slender bronze hand of the Grunt. Frederick adjusted his shield and prepared to charge. Just then, a clear, resonant chime filled the subterranean, dwarven cavern, drowning out the mechanical clanking of the construct's internal gears. A great ticking could be heard coming from deep below. Eleven more Grunts emerged, one behind the other, in perfect synchronization, encircling him. He rolled his shoulders and popped his neck, "This could be more difficult than I thought." Instinct: to maintain order, to encircle a foe (clockwise) and rythmically destroy it at 100 beats per minute (think Stayin' Alive by the Bee Gees)

• Slow down time, Destroy enemies
• 12 O'Clock and All is Well: Calls 1d12 other Grunts to assemble