Excerpt from Beasts of Realida by Sebastien d’Ordaille
The giant frog, though far more terrifying, shares many traits with its smaller brethren, thriving equally on land and in water. While it possesses lungs, dissection reveals that these are not the primary means by which it breathes underwater. Instead, its highly specialised belly skin plays an intriguing role. When laid out, this skin spans a remarkable area – three times the surface of the rest of its body combined. It is intricately folded in complex twists and turns that I suspect aids in its underwater respiration. This may explain the creature’s incessant motion when submerged, a behaviour that is lost during its time on land.
These amphibian horrors favour swamps, where the damp air and soggy ground give them a distinct advantage over other predators. Their muscular hindlegs, designed for explosive bursts of movement, let them leap great distances across the sticky mud, while their prey must wade through the sludge. Even if they cannot outpace their prey, the giant frog’s formidable tongue comes into play. This pale-pink appendage, shockingly long and uncannily accurate, is both sticky and deadly. It has been known to snatch large animals and even men from a distance. One heavily armoured knight famously recounted losing his shield to the monstrous pull of the tongue.
Giant frogs usually leave people alone, which may invite a false sense of safety in their presence. But if provoked, they prove to be formidable foes. Therefore, avoid breeding grounds, particularly in spring when they are most aggressive. They become fiercely protective of their tadpoles, and any perceived threat results in loud, resonant croaks that summon others to their defence. To disturb a giant frog’s tadpoles is to invite certain doom; one might only hope that Balint grants a swift and painless death, though that is a rare blessing indeed.