"A gift for a welcome neighbour," it says as it thrusts a taloned claw into the snow, then in an avalanche of snow it pulls out a massive, frosted-over figure. It takes you a moment to recognize the Orc you only ever saw at a distance: Warboss Birdmuncha.
"I'd wondered where he'd gotten to," you say faintly, as Cython props the figure upright. The Warboss is forever frozen in mid-charge, his arms still gripping his looted Dwarven bolt-thrower.
"He evaded the art of you and this Gazul, and then made his way to me. He believed he would feed on me. If the interlopers were not so displeasing to the stomach, it would have been quite pleasing for the opposite to become true." It exhales in a draconic chuckle that sends snowflakes whirling around the cavern.