For as long as he can remember, Gargoloth the Undying has walked the realm unopposed.

In the thousands of years he has been present, he has crossed oceans, leveled mountains, and crushed any and all villages and kingdoms that were foolish enough to be built in his way.

He has long stopped seeking out these minuscule refuges of the two-legged creatures to destroy, though, as the carnage ceased to provide even a sliver of entertainment after it became apparent that there was no challenge to be had in it. The almighty Gargoloth barely needs to lift one of his great legs, and whatever walls or towers erected by these little scurrying annoyances will simply crumble to dust.

Even the meager offenses these lower beings launched against the unstoppable Gargoloth offers only slight amusement at the best of times. And more often than not, he cannot even feel it. Sure, it cannot be said that the attacks did not become more varied and powerful as the years have gone by, but in the end, they amount to nothing more than ants scratching uselessly at the hide of an indomitable boulder. And it is such that Gargoloth, this Unstoppable Force of Destruction, this Harbinger of Ruin, came to the conclusion that the most interesting thing to do for an ascended being such as he, would be to walk across the entirety of this realm until he finds the end, or the beginning, of everything. Perhaps he may find the creator of this vast world, or perhaps he may find the one who will bring about its end. Either way, what greater challenge could a being of pure decimation face, than the initial point of creation itself?

And so Gargoloth the Eternal walks, unobstructed and unopposed.

Today brings the magnificent god to the south, close to the line of sharp mountains which border the edge of the Great Ocean Where All Things Met.

Gargoloth prefers this part of the realm, as the two-legs are few, and their castles and cities small and unobtrusive on the scenery. The north is cold and the mountains taller than even he, and of this Gargoloth does not approve. Then, beyond those mountains is the ever-expanding civilization of the beastly two-legs, who have more ferocity and strength than their un-mutated cousins here in this part of the realm. And then beyond them still, are deserts and plains so vast they are a bore for even the gigantic Gargoloth to walk through.

Both the east and west are bookended by the Great Ocean, but that does not seem to hinder the two-legs from spreading their roots. They seem always to be so busy, forever trying to wrestle control from the land itself, and reign over that which does not belong to them. The last time Gargoloth had been in the west, a new kingdom was just beginning to be built. There were rings of walls being erected which stretched to encompass more land than Gargoloth has seen walls do before, and more land he believes the two-legs can ever dream of holding onto. But he has learned many things in his walks, such as how the realm seems to be interconnected in a never-ending loop, and how the two-legs are able to multiply their numbers at speeds unlike any other creature of this realm. It may not be so outlandish if, when Gargoloth returns to the west again, he sees the kingdom fully erected, and ready to be crushed.

He begins the walk west.

How many years has he walked? The infinite Gargoloth wonders this as he walks, though he cannot remember the answer. He has seen the world when it was a husk, waiting to be consumed by the void. He was there when the planet began to heal, and he had watched as the two-legs crawled out from within the ground, built their houses from straw and trees, and fought the lesser of his kind with sticks and stones. He witnessed the rise of these little creatures with disdainful curiosity, as a man might watch the rise and fall of a civilization of worms. Throughout the ages, he has seen how these two-legs harvested the residue crystals left by the World Connector to become more than they were meant to be, eventually becoming strong enough to take by force the land which belonged to Gargoloth’s lesser kindred.

At first, Gargoloth was disgusted. He hunted these two-legs down, them and their mutated cousins, and obliterated their flimsy buildings and their tiny farms with justified wrath. But he soon found that crushing these insignificant critters proved to be just too easy, too simple, and too mind-numbingly dull, that he could not hold any interest in the task. He is not the protector of this realm, after all. It is not his purpose to wipe out the scourge which will eventually bring about its own end. He is simply here, by the will of the World Connector, and his purpose is only to exist. And so exist he shall. Exist and walk.

Nonetheless, it has been quite some time since the impressive Gargoloth has last chanced upon a settlement of any kind, and the Crusher of Man finds himself unexpectedly reminiscing about the old days, and a certain coastal village he had destroyed many a moon-cycle ago, in the east. The village was drab and worthless like any other, but it sat within a cove leading out to the Great Ocean Where All Things Met, and it just so happened that Gargoloth was walking along the ocean floor, and was headed towards that exact cove.

A creature’s size holds no intrinsic value, unless the creature is big enough to force ocean currents to swell where there are none, and cause the very world to quake in his presence.

A deep rumbling laugh echoes from within Gargoloth’s massive body as he recalls the memory of the coastal village, ruined beneath the towering waves thrown in his wake. He tilts his head up towards the sun, bathing in its warmth and the undeniable truth of his immortality. He laughs again, for it will take nothing short of a star crashing into the realm to stop the immeasurable Gargoloth, a god of strength and perfection, from walking.