Secured to the flatbed by way of numerous thick, heavy chains, the exceptionally lifelike statue of that alien drew all attention to itself with barely any effort. The statue stood like a great, decorative pillar, locked into a pose that communicated so much at once: the marks and discolorations in the stone were cuts and bruises, and combined with the ragged clothing covering it’s genitals, told me that the creature was in a great battle prior to being transmuted into it’s stony form. But it’s posture and countenance told a very different story: far from looking defeated, it looked smug. Amused. Defiant. Indeed, defiance was the primary thing it’s pose communicated, along with the unmistakable undertone of a threat: not only was it utterly unbothered by it’s own defeat, it was threatening the ones who had imprisoned it so. Telling them to pray to whatever gods they held dear that they could keep him contained, because if they couldn’t, he would inflict upon them far worse than whatever he had done to them before. And he would do it with a smile.