Gogmagog, the last of the Albion giants, stood on the White Cliffs of Dover. He was twelve feet of scarred muscle and rage. Bellow of Claim. He looked out at the ocean, challenging the world.
He saw a ridge of grey rock breaking the surface a mile out. A new island?
"Mine!" Gogmagog roared. He picked up a boulder the size of a carriage and hurled it. Cliff-Scourge Heave.
The rock sailed through the air and struck the grey ridge. Clang.
It didn't chip rock. It bounced off a scale.
The Awakening
The "island" moved. A vertical slit of a pupil, hundreds of feet tall, opened in the water. Jörmungandr, the Midgard Serpent, woke up.
The serpent was not angry. It was barely aware. It simply shifted its weight to get comfortable.
Midgard-Encompassing Coil.
The movement displaced a billion gallons of water. A tidal wave, three hundred feet high and moving at the speed of a jet, surged toward the cliffs.
Gogmagog’s roar turned into a gurgle. The wall of water smashed into the coast, shattering the cliffs and sweeping the giant into the churning Atlantic like a toy soldier. He was crushed instantly by the pressure, while Jörmungandr closed its eye and went back to sleep, dreaming of the end of time.