As the Primordials turned their terrible attention on the new-crafted World, destruction was wrought with abandon. Every imaginable natural disaster was merely the beginning; tsunami and quakes and firestorms. Hurricanes grew into being in underground complexes; lava bubbled up from greensward and flowed up-hill. The Gods reacted, doing what they could to save their precious new toy, but they underestimated their mindless foes and were unable to prevent the creation of the Tarrasque.
Fiercer than any living being the Gods had deigned to create, it stalked the World, devastating whole continents. Its form was unoriginal, merely a lizard with six legs, a tail, and a thick carapace, massive jaws. It was the embodiment of the very soul of the World, the expression at the rage of the Primordials who were feeding this ordered creation against their will. As such, it extended its will past its own body, drawing all creatures that attempted to rise above its rampage to the ground. It was large and strong enough to destroy whole cities by merely wandering through them, allowing it’s footfalls to trample living beings like ants and destroy their works like crunching autumn leaves.
Heroes and the Gods were finally able to destroy its form, but what they failed to realize was that, in the chaotic, illogical manner of the Primordials, what they shattered was merely the expression of the Tarrasque’s soul. It slept deep within the core of the world, and has arisen several times since. Each time, the greatest heroes of the age had to beat it back into submission, and only after it had carved a path of destruction across the World, and only with much sacrifice on their own behalves.