Name: Shoma Othea, Daughter of Kalnirkrum the Giant
Age: 27
Race: Giant
Appearance:
Bio: Deep in our mountains, we lived in peace. No human, nor elf, nor orc, nor Bird-man had ever traveled so far into the lands of forever Winter. Bitter cold and relentless winds were too harsh for them to live long even if they had. The only warmth was in the belly of our mountain. And we were content to stay there for as long as we lived. Never curious of the outside world, never curious of what lay beyond our ice filled dreams.
But even from a young age I was taught of others. Of brother tribes, of their sticky warm climates and their constant bothers. The bothers of the other creatures birthed by the world. Elves, creatures made of the beauty and sweetness of flowers who hid thorns, like a colorful rock lizards. Dwarves, creatures with a thirst for gold, as if their many years in caves had starved them of sunshine so much, they meant to satisfy it with material wealth. And Humans, soft and smaller than our kind, though strong of heart and as unpredictable as wild wolves.
Tales woven by the warm Heart Stones of the Mountain, children are always told Lesson Stories by the Great Elders. Yet none before me had ever taught about them as greatly as I did. If there was so much out there, why were we intent on staying in our isolated mountain? And what did summer and spring truly look like? This ‘rain’, as they called it, that was like melted snow falling from the sky, why was it so? What did it feel like? What did it smell like? What did all these creatures truly do and say? Children should not think in such ways. At least that is what my father told me.
And perhaps he was right. It was very odd for one of our kind to be so intent on the ‘why’ and insist on learning more, especially a child. So Father thought it best I keep my mind busy with practical work of the hands. Strong and sturdy work, of being a blacksmith. We had no enemies in our lonely mountain, so at most I worked on repairs. But the fast river of my mind was not sated, as my father thought it would be. No instead it moved faster and faster, as if rushing towards that great thing called The Great Salt Water.
My hands were indeed kept busy, but not my mind. In my free time I’d tinker and pull things apart, only to stack it all together again until I memorized it all. And once I was finished with that, I started to add thing, change things. Change is not something common in my tribe. Ever since my great-great-grandfather had led our people to our safe mountain, things had hardly changed at all. The same kinds of buckets, to the same kinds of clothes, to the same kinds of stories. Alway, always the same. Safe, secure and never changing. Except for me.
But what could make one ordinary youngling so different than her kin in a secluded kingdom within a mountain? Different or special? It does not truly matter, because it never did. Grasping, reaching, clawing your way to something unknown and out of your reach, it only drives you stir-crazy. Restless. Walls become too small as you grow. And so I did one last thing so different in my tribe. I left.
Down steep cliffs, yes, even steep for me, and through bitter biting winds. Snow that cracked my hard skin and burned my fingertips blue. Ice that drove straight to the bone as hunger always festered in my belly. The Winterlands are nothing but harsh, and even a giant like me could hardly survive. But it was the sight of my first tree that kept me going. Then it was the scent of roasting meat, something of a rare delicacy to my people. However my first encounter with humans was nothing but short lived. They did not seem to fond to see me. Nor did they enjoying sharing their meal.
I did not kill them, if that is what you are thinking. Life is precious, even if it’s the life of a feral wolf who sees fit to bite you before even taking in your scent. I took only half of the moose they had slain. There had been only two of them, so they could survive. I, however, am quiet a bit larger and need more food than a small human woman. But never the less, seeing humans for the first time was something of a wonder. And perhaps the more I wandered about lands so strange to me, with so much air and light, the more I came to like them. Not all were so harsh towards the sight of me, though other giants did not seem to enjoy me in their company. Almost as snobbish and untrusting as elves, they were. But I grew to learn there are very many kinds of creatures. And just because one looks similar to you, does not always mean that you and they are a like. Humans are a wondrous example of that, but then again, so am I.
Personality: She’s curious and wise, though somethings are very strange and alien to her, given her isolated homeland. She is rather gentle and takes more interest in learning about the many different designs and mechanisms than in fights and bloodshed. More often than not, she’ll try to settle something peacefully, but even she has a temper. And when angered you better get out of the way. She can seem a bit scattered brained from time to time, often muttering to herself about one thing or another. And she gets along well with animals, often enjoying their peaceful and tranquil company than that of what she finds unpredictable. And even as broad-minded and knowledgeable as she is, when it comes to naming living creatures she isn't very creative.
Faction: Wanderer, Blacksmith, but ultimately for the New High Kingdom
Gift: Gift of Burim
Weapon(s) of choice: Skull shaped shield and a triple sided sword.
Relationship/loved ones?: Just her friend Jar, a raven with one eye and a mute Fairy she calls "Tin"
Other: She is about eight foot two in height, which is a little on the short side for a female giant, but this is most likely due to the lack of meat in her diet when she was growing up.
Age: 27
Race: Giant
Appearance:
Bio: Deep in our mountains, we lived in peace. No human, nor elf, nor orc, nor Bird-man had ever traveled so far into the lands of forever Winter. Bitter cold and relentless winds were too harsh for them to live long even if they had. The only warmth was in the belly of our mountain. And we were content to stay there for as long as we lived. Never curious of the outside world, never curious of what lay beyond our ice filled dreams.
But even from a young age I was taught of others. Of brother tribes, of their sticky warm climates and their constant bothers. The bothers of the other creatures birthed by the world. Elves, creatures made of the beauty and sweetness of flowers who hid thorns, like a colorful rock lizards. Dwarves, creatures with a thirst for gold, as if their many years in caves had starved them of sunshine so much, they meant to satisfy it with material wealth. And Humans, soft and smaller than our kind, though strong of heart and as unpredictable as wild wolves.
Tales woven by the warm Heart Stones of the Mountain, children are always told Lesson Stories by the Great Elders. Yet none before me had ever taught about them as greatly as I did. If there was so much out there, why were we intent on staying in our isolated mountain? And what did summer and spring truly look like? This ‘rain’, as they called it, that was like melted snow falling from the sky, why was it so? What did it feel like? What did it smell like? What did all these creatures truly do and say? Children should not think in such ways. At least that is what my father told me.
And perhaps he was right. It was very odd for one of our kind to be so intent on the ‘why’ and insist on learning more, especially a child. So Father thought it best I keep my mind busy with practical work of the hands. Strong and sturdy work, of being a blacksmith. We had no enemies in our lonely mountain, so at most I worked on repairs. But the fast river of my mind was not sated, as my father thought it would be. No instead it moved faster and faster, as if rushing towards that great thing called The Great Salt Water.
My hands were indeed kept busy, but not my mind. In my free time I’d tinker and pull things apart, only to stack it all together again until I memorized it all. And once I was finished with that, I started to add thing, change things. Change is not something common in my tribe. Ever since my great-great-grandfather had led our people to our safe mountain, things had hardly changed at all. The same kinds of buckets, to the same kinds of clothes, to the same kinds of stories. Alway, always the same. Safe, secure and never changing. Except for me.
But what could make one ordinary youngling so different than her kin in a secluded kingdom within a mountain? Different or special? It does not truly matter, because it never did. Grasping, reaching, clawing your way to something unknown and out of your reach, it only drives you stir-crazy. Restless. Walls become too small as you grow. And so I did one last thing so different in my tribe. I left.
Down steep cliffs, yes, even steep for me, and through bitter biting winds. Snow that cracked my hard skin and burned my fingertips blue. Ice that drove straight to the bone as hunger always festered in my belly. The Winterlands are nothing but harsh, and even a giant like me could hardly survive. But it was the sight of my first tree that kept me going. Then it was the scent of roasting meat, something of a rare delicacy to my people. However my first encounter with humans was nothing but short lived. They did not seem to fond to see me. Nor did they enjoying sharing their meal.
I did not kill them, if that is what you are thinking. Life is precious, even if it’s the life of a feral wolf who sees fit to bite you before even taking in your scent. I took only half of the moose they had slain. There had been only two of them, so they could survive. I, however, am quiet a bit larger and need more food than a small human woman. But never the less, seeing humans for the first time was something of a wonder. And perhaps the more I wandered about lands so strange to me, with so much air and light, the more I came to like them. Not all were so harsh towards the sight of me, though other giants did not seem to enjoy me in their company. Almost as snobbish and untrusting as elves, they were. But I grew to learn there are very many kinds of creatures. And just because one looks similar to you, does not always mean that you and they are a like. Humans are a wondrous example of that, but then again, so am I.
Personality: She’s curious and wise, though somethings are very strange and alien to her, given her isolated homeland. She is rather gentle and takes more interest in learning about the many different designs and mechanisms than in fights and bloodshed. More often than not, she’ll try to settle something peacefully, but even she has a temper. And when angered you better get out of the way. She can seem a bit scattered brained from time to time, often muttering to herself about one thing or another. And she gets along well with animals, often enjoying their peaceful and tranquil company than that of what she finds unpredictable. And even as broad-minded and knowledgeable as she is, when it comes to naming living creatures she isn't very creative.
Faction: Wanderer, Blacksmith, but ultimately for the New High Kingdom
Gift: Gift of Burim
Weapon(s) of choice: Skull shaped shield and a triple sided sword.
Relationship/loved ones?: Just her friend Jar, a raven with one eye and a mute Fairy she calls "Tin"
Other: She is about eight foot two in height, which is a little on the short side for a female giant, but this is most likely due to the lack of meat in her diet when she was growing up.
