Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Troll God - Extract from Demon Lord IX: The Forgotten Lands

This extract is from Chapter One:
Nomard stamped, sending a ripple through the quasi-rock under their feet. It shivered, and then heaved. The stench intensified to a sickening putridity, and the valley floor writhed, sent up tendrils in search of prey and turned from black to mottled grey. Several tendrils snaked up the ship’s flanks, and it rocked, and then rose. Bane jumped back onto the ramp, and Drevarin followed.
Nomard drew his sword and set off. “Tallyho!”
The troll god was over a thousand yards tall, Bane calculated. Nomard, however, grew larger with every step, and his apparel and sword grew with him. Like an earth demon, he drew matter from his surroundings, particularly under his feet, which meant he incorporated the dromon’s substance too. The semi-sentient entity groped for him with multiple tendrils, but Nomard merely added them to his flesh and ripped them free. Molten metal erupted from the ground in glowing streams and joined the medley of matter that swelled the demon god’s form. By the time he was halfway to Eord, Nomard was about five hundred yards tall.
Drevarin grunted. “Impressive.”
Nomard was roughly seven hundred yards tall when the troll god twitched, shedding dust, then raised his head and opened purple eyes. He focussed on Nomard, and his brow furrowed.
Drevarin remarked, “Troll gods spend so much time immobile that dirt accumulates and moss and plants grow in it. If they fall asleep in a sunny place, they can end up resembling troll-shaped forests. It serves as excellent camouflage, but they tend to rub off the trees when they wake up.”
Nomard was now almost as tall as the troll god, streams of dust flowing into him from all around, along with chunks of the dromon, which writhed and tried to snag his legs. The troll god bent and gripped a massive, battle-scarred hammer that was half-buried in the mountainside. He ripped it free with a gritty scrape and turned to face Nomard. The demon god hefted his sword.
“Eord, old chap, is that you?” Nomard’s deep voice echoed around the valley.


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