But the tattoo also grew ambitions. It started twitching, stretching, trying to peel itself free. One night, Grom woke to find a black, two-dimensional arm emerging from his shoulder, groping for a knife.
Grom, who had spent three centuries chewing gristly boots, agreed. melkor tattoo
The problem was, the Melkor standing before him was not Melkor. It was a minor spirit of deceit named Urluk, who had escaped the Void clinging to a discarded Silmaril shard. Urluk had a lovely baritone and excellent stage presence, but he had no idea how to grant cooking powers. So he improvised: he decided to give Grom a tattoo that would become Melkor—a living, breathing sliver of the Dark Lord’s essence, trapped under orc-skin. But the tattoo also grew ambitions
Grom refused. He had a cauldron to test. Grom, who had spent three centuries chewing gristly