The Crack Claw
First the goblins came for it, rusty scimitar and chipped spear swinging. On wolves and spiders they descended into the swamp. They looked to murder it for sport. Through bog and marsh they rushed forward leaping onto the prey. But it prevailed. The claw cracked and hardened.
The Frog men came for it next, with nets, billhooks and makeshift tridents they trod into the swamp. They looked to capture and tame the wild thing. They swam and hopped along, slowly but surely they approached the target and when the timing was right they bounded forward. But again, it prevailed. The claw cracked and hardened.
The fierce lizard tribes came for it next, with bows, sword and axe they slithered into the wetlands. The young warriors came to hunt it as a rite of passage, to become adults and true warriors of the tribe. Bones cracked underneath as they approached the hunting grounds, the air silent. The sopping swamp burst underneath as it exploded amongst them. It prevailed. The claw cracked and hardened.
The armies of man came for it next, with horse, shot and cannons they marched into the fenland. Mankind looked to exterminate the beast once and for all. The swamps had grown still, no life lived within the marshes. Piles of skulls rose out of the mist, old killing grounds for the horror. It came for them, horse and man crushed underneath, shot merely bounced off carapace, cannon fire only enraged the beast. It prevailed. The claw cracked and hardened.
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