With great effort, you pull the enchanted sword from its bony enclosure. Power surges from its hilt, through your forearm, filling your entire being. You fling yourself upon the Grogan and, with one blow, cleave it in two. From its bones, you build the foundation for a great manse, supported by the pillar of its spine. Its flesh, stretched and hardened, forms the walls and roof. Its eye, plucked and planted in the rocky soil, soon sprouts tall stalks bearing sweet, smoky corn suitable for milling or boiling in soups. You rip the brain into its two hemispheres. One becomes a wife; the other, a son. Here, in this valley, you prosper. |