Lords of the Heights
There are six giant kings in the Krond Heights, and almost two thousand giants. They live in bands of twenty or thirty individuals, men and women, in many ways the stereotype of nobility; responsible for little save their own pleasure, they lounge in indolence between bouts of hunting or making sport of war. Their needs taken care of by their lessers, they entertain themselves, with no superiors save their chiefs, their kings, and Her.
The essential unit of organization for giants is the individual; every giant and giantess is free to determine their own lives and allegiance. If a giant does not like his chief, he can freely leave and seek another, or try to convince others to join him. Does he want to usurp his king? He will need enough force to overcome his king’s loyal followers, but he can try to do that. While the roles of women are slightly constrained (there are no female chiefs, no queens), they have no obligation to stay with a chief they find unworthy, a king they find inadequate. This striking out on one’s own may be difficult, and it may involve some hardship, but no giant will stop them; they are sufficient unto themselves.
Why give allegiance to chiefs or kings? Because the concentration of giants allows ease. One giant may keep a handful of slaves; three giants can keep a stable, and twenty giants can keep a region under control. Why toil for your bread and beer if someone else can do it for you? The hunt is enjoyable, shepherding is drudgery, so leave it to the drudges. Giants are the pinnacle of creation, the mightiest of mortals, who once touched the divine and threatened to bring it low. It is right that other creatures serve them; it is just that they rule over all. If a giant bends his knee to a chief, if a giantess heeds the words of a king, they do so because they choose, and that elevates the chief, ennobles the king, for he is chosen by the mightiest to lead them in glory. And so, each king is leader of some three hundred giants, each of whom subscribes to his leadership voluntarily.
Most giants will be at leisure for most of the month, taking only a few days off from lounging to hunt or manage their lessers. They may practice weapons, drink, play music, or tell stories, but their goal is to enjoy themselves. Chiefs have a few more responsibilities, generally involving staying on top of what needs doing, and directing other giants to do it. They rule by dint of strength, charisma, and the cunning to make sure that the highest ranked giants get the choicest “assignments”, and the lowest ranked have the most scut-work. Does someone have to supervise the stacking of firewood? Give it to Snorri the Young. Want someone to lead a raid into a human village? Give it to Bor the Bold.
Rank within a chiefdom is an ephemeral thing; unlike goblins, it is not assigned based solely on who can beat up who, but on whose Fame and Honor eclipses whose. A mighty poet might rank higher than an unlucky but powerful warrior, or an untried wizard. Of course, Fame and Honor can be gained by dragging others down; defeat a poet in a duel and your fame might go up, though he may savage your honor with a satire. Men and women do not have separate hierarchies, and it is an unwise adventurer who assumes a frost giantess is less able combatant than her brothers, and a giantess who feels slighted by a male giant is well within her rights to challenge him to a duel, savage him with poetry, or otherwise prove her superiority, though she must, likewise, fear the challenges of giantish men.
The chief god of the Hoar Frost is the Emperor of Scorn, because they know they are the greatest beings in creation, and their scorn is heaped upon mortal and god alike. The giants were so great that the gods were forced to cast them down or lose their own seats; other mortals quake before the coming of the Hoar Frost, and cannot withstand the cold that is the nature of the world. Many of the lower ranks also worship with the Way of the Berserk, while it is regarded as more “noble” for chiefs and kings to prefer the Temple of Armed Conflict.
The giants themselves do not engage in trade; some diplomacy between kingdoms, of course, but no bartering of gold for goods. Their lessers may engage in trade, providing goods in exchange across kingdom boundaries, but the giants themselves do not concern themselves with such. Such trade links are tenuous, and tend to be more for convenience than need; it may be easier to acquire something from a nearby village loyal to another lord than to seek it out from deeper in one’s own kingdom, but those links may be severed if hostilities erupt. Hostilities erupt relatively infrequently, however. Conflicts between individual giants, even individual chiefs, are more often settled with a brawl than with battle. Far more common is a raid by one chief’s followers on the villages of another chief, and retaliatory raids against the villages of the first chief (or an unrelated third). The giants direct these partially for the scant plunder they receive, but mostly to keep their orcs and ogres busy; bored barbarians break things.
North of the Omdal river, near the goblin city of Tin, is the domain of King Skjor. Skjor’s domain is cold, but its western slopes are verdant in the brief summer, and it, combined with the relative protection of the low valley, has made Skjor very rich. Skjor is one of the few giants to keep wyvern pets, of whom he is extraordinarily fond and proud, though he has little to actually do with their care. Years ago, he captured an apprentice of the Wyvern Widow, hag of the Shashyf Hills, and uses a magical collar to keep her in thrall. She raises and trains the wyverns to his specifications, and determines, with some prodding from Skjor, which eggs he may eat or share. Skjor allows her to brew her stew, as he wishes to keep her alive indefinitely, but he parcels it out sparingly; she is mad with desire for the stew, and he withholds it until she begins to fade. Skjor regularly uses his wyverns to hunt in the goblin lands, which causes retaliatory raids from the goblins. He’s widely hated by his own subjects, and his population has dwindled because of this, but there is a cadre of loyal giants (his own children, largely) who stay with him. Combined with his control of Krenge’s apprentice, he is difficult to effectively challenge for the kingship.
Adjacent to the Shashyf Hills is the realm of King Brunnar. Brunnar’s chieftains are restless; many have moved from Skjor’s realm, resulting in conflict for resources. While Brunnar wants to expand north, most giants are unwilling to do the work necessary to make that happen; instead, they, too, raid the goblins in the Shashyf Hills, and lord over the hill giants. Brunnar himself contributes to this with overwhelming laziness; he’d like to extend to the north, but he can’t be bothered to make the decisions necessary to make it happen, nor can he stir himself to reign in his chiefs. As such, many resources are destroyed by warring chieftains, driven by the fear that their opponents will secure them. For their part, the goblins in the Shashyfs are less inclined towards raids than towards preventing them; they murder giant scouts, plant false information, and, on occasion, cripple giant chiefs, weakening them enough for other chiefs to take over. Were Brunnar not isolated from the rest of the giants by the Ladies of Salt, and bolstered by giants who hate Skjor, he might have been deposed long ago; as it is, those who thrive on chaos within the giantish ranks find his realm a refuge, and their departure a bit of a relief for other giants.
Balgrim has a large, rich, territory in the central Krond Heights, encompassing the glaciers and the rivers that feed lake Vrasten. While his eastern-facing, central territory is less verdant than that of Skjor, it covers a huge variety of territory, has great mineral wealth, and good pasturage for llamas and alpacas. It is also rich hunting ground, with yetis, gargoyles, and wyverns (Balgrim does not have a mated pair, but he does have a pair of young males). But, however, he lies between Her and the Ladies of Salt. He cannot expand, as the forces on his eastern and western borders are too powerful for even a band of giants to resist. Balgrim, for his part, is content with this; a younger giant might try to push the boundaries, but Balgrim has decided that the land is rich, his time is long, and there are more important things to worry about than the bogeymen at his borders. To keep the peace, he limits raids onto goblin territory, reasoning that there are plenty of other things to hunt, and goblins aren’t much sport. “I stepped on a village of creatures that barely clear my ankle” is not courage, and wins you no fame with Balgrim.
Above the Odril Hills is the realm of Eorlund, a somewhat unusual giant. “Eorlund” was the giantess, Brenna, who ventured to the Ladies of Salt and acquired a magic beard through them. It bonded with her, and she became Eorlund; a giant, but “cursed”, to the giantish mind, to have no sons. This was nearly three hundred years ago; now king, father, and grandfather, Eorlund has begun to consider which of his daughters might wish the beard upon his death. As such, he constantly challenges his many daughters, demanding great deeds of them. Their mothers and husbands jockey for position, for there is a rumor that Eorlund will bestow a great treasure upon whichever daughter he names his heir.
Ogmund is king above the Sanakir hills, south and east of the Ladies of Salt. Ogmund desires an empire, to rule the lowlands, but has chosen the uncharacteristic method of trying to entice the hill giant into an alliance as his shock troops. This is going as poorly as one can imagine; while they are glad to trade slaves for metal weapons, they feel no obligation to Ogmund for these trades, and will go back to using wood, stone, and hide as soon as the metal corrodes to uselessness. Tired of this pining and plotting, his brother, Bali, has begun a rebellion, rallying perhaps a quarter of the giants to his side. Bali has less support than might be expected because he is considered malformed; a mere 10 feet tall, with a moderate limp, no left hand, and no left eye, he is ferociously intelligent, and a capable warrior and wizard. His smaller height was his destiny from birth; his disabilities are the result of their father attempting to rid himself of a less-than-perfect son by feeding him to a giant amoeba. A great flash of light from Bali’s nascent magical powers destroyed the amoeba, but not before Bali lost his left hand, left eye, part of his left foot, and suffered a great deal of scarring.
P’Bapar Pass, between Cosdol and P’Bapar, is the realm of Tormund the Last. Like Eorlund, Tormund is an older giant, likely in his last decades, but whereas Eorlund has a surplus of heirs, Tormund has none. His children and grandchildren have, over the last century, died in a variety of accidents, wars, and raids-gone-wrong. Only one son survives, and he went mad when his wife and children were devoured by the king’s own wyverns in a hunting accident. Even his crown is missing, stolen in the night by forces unknown. While his territory is vast, and access to P’Bapar Pass makes it rich for raiding, Tormund himself is regarded as cursed. He is still acknowledged as king, and his people follow orders, but he is barred from the steadings of his kingdom. No one is trying to seize his position because they are unsure if the curse resides on Tormund himself, or the office.
Her
The Hoar Frost kings are varied; their geographies influence their needs, and thus their choices. One factor, however, weighs heavily on all their minds: The presence of Her, of She without a Name. An Elder Troll, She is an ancient cousin of the giants. To understand their relationship, one must understand a little of the deep history. When the titans fell, and those who had not directly opposed the gods became the first giants, each cast about for some substitute for the great powers they once wielded. Many turned to elemental spirits, similarly outcast, and became the progenitors of the giantish races. Some, however, turned to the land itself, drinking deep of Tellene’s own power, and became the first trolls, the Elder Trolls. When the War of the Gods erupted, some of those Elder Trolls were corrupted by the lost god of Chaos and Evil, becoming Demonic Trolls; the Elder Trolls remained pure, free of that corrupting divine influence. Today, only six Elder Trolls remain, and only one is female. She is known by the giants of the Krond Heights only as Her, and Her domain is a peak in the Western Krond Heights, and the deeps below it.
She is relatively young, being only a thousand years old. She slew her mother some six hundred years ago, and the brief loosening of trollish grip on the Krond Heights resulted in a great war between the giants, followed by Her own reminding of the giants of Whose range they inhabited. As the sole remaining female Elder Troll, she is sought after by the others of her race, but they keep a distance, for a conflict between Elder Trolls will be a terrible thing, and the immortals have time to wait. It is known that She talks often with the Ladies of Salt, and seems to have an affinity for other hags. She brooks no intruder to Her realm, and it is said that to learn Her true name is to forever let Her know your location, and to speak Her name without leave is to call Her to your side in a wrath. How much of this is true is unknown, but when She regained the power that slipped from Her mother’s grasp with her death, She slaughtered one giant in every ten, placing their heads in the beds of their chiefs without making a sound… or leaving any more of a corpse.
Her servitors are mostly trolls; they are poor servants, and She treats them more as guard dogs, carefully ensuring their loyalty by feeding them, and maintaining Her dominance with frequent beatings. Her mountainsides are home to many capritaurs, partially because She has a great hatred of gargoyles, and destroys any that sully Her mountain. She is far enough from the Goblin Kingdom that they know of Her domain, but seldom interact with it; from the giants, She takes irregular tribute, simply removing what She sees as Her due. The giants are tremendously afraid of Her, and a few giantess shamans claim to have been trained by Her, enhancing their prestige… though what truth there is to these claims is also unknown.
The Dragon and Her Terrace
Chezzedreth, the great white dragon, is said to reside at the Terrace of Infinity. This is, of course, somewhat inaccurate; no dragon, especially one of her age and power, would have only a single residence, and certainly not one so exposed. However, it is known that she will frequently alight there, when she is active, and has shown great interest in any goings-on there. She does not forbid its use, but it is known that using the Terrace is on her sufferance.
Like Her, Chezzedreth is unique; to the knowledge of all, she is the only female dragon on Tellene. However, on the occasions when she has been addressed in a formal manner, she has requested the title of “Her Greatness, Chezzedreth, of the Terrace of Infinity and Krond Heights”. Unlike Her, she receives no special attention from the male dragons; she is Dragon, and other dragons react to her as such, not based on any demihuman conception of sex or gender.
Most recently, Chezzedreth was active in the Odrill Hills, beginning about ten years ago (553 IR). For six years, she ravaged the hobgoblins of the hills, before returning at least to the Terrace of Infinity. She has not been seen since 559 IR.
The Terrace of Infinity is one of the highest points in Tellene, bitterly cold even in summer, with air so thin that most mortals cannot breathe without magical assistance (Chezzedreth, of course, has no problem). It is a spire, reaching more than a mile above the mountain from which it extends, with a staircase circling it to the top. The stairs themselves dwarf most mortal’s strides; each is two feet high, and four feet across. Those who have reached its height describe a plateau of pitch-black basalt, inscribed with arcane circles and sigils. Those with Master Level Arcane and Divine Lore who study the symbols claim that there is deep knowledge in ancient languages transcribed there. Many have made maps of those sigils; no two maps agree, even if made at the same time.
It is said that from here, the Gods surveyed the world the Creator had made, and that from here the Titans challenged those same gods. Those who have magical assistance to their vision claim at they can see the K’Asa Mountains, across the breadth of the Sovereign Lands, from this vantage. Chezzedreth will visit this peak often, when she is active, and survey the world below. Then she will disappear, only to reappear in a dragon’s time, from some other place in the Krond Heights.
The Terrace of Infinity is not far, as the dragon flies, from the mountain of Her, nor from the powerful Ladies of Salt. It is unknown what the relationship between Chezzedreth and these two other power loci may be. Chezzedreth has not openly warred with either, and has not been seen near Lake Vrasten. For Her part, She is aware of Chezzedreth (how could She not be?), but if they communicate, collaborate, or are constestate is unknown.
***
Next Week: The Orc of the Krond Heights and the mysterious Ladies of Salt
No comments:
Post a Comment