A young Fire Giant is often raised tending the lava fields in OolKateth,
the city of fire. As a child, I labored for hours at the base of the
volcano, mining ores and maintaining the channels of lava that surrounded
the city, fed by the magma chamber underneath the city.
On one fateful afternoon, the ground began to quake. Sulfurous gases began
to escape from the chamber below and quickly enveloped OolKateth. Women and
children were forced to evacuate, while men and warriors stayed behind to
further deepen and strengthen the channels containing the quickly rising
lake of fire.
As my mother led my sisters and I through a tunnel into the mountains, a
catastrophic explosion boomed within the volcano and it began to violently
erupt. Everyone that stayed behind was lost.
As a refugee family in the Unlit City, the oldest is forced to work for the
guard in return for food and shelter. I was just sixteen, but had seen
combat like few could imagine. The acolytes of Rodyn and Serich waged war
upon each other in our streets. The casualties were many and bystanders
were commonly the fallout.
I have learned that it is the will of the Light that is the false prophet.
They seek to pass judgment on others within the realm and condemn all those
who stray from their righteous path. I have seen first hand that the
strength in the Legion of Darkness lies in its indifference.
It is for the darkness that I shall continue my crusade.
Description:
A fearsome giantess stands before you.
At first glance, though imposing and unnerving, the splendor of her
appearance transfixes you - if only for a moment. Her presence brings
with it colors one finds only in the most violent of fires.
From atop her head a fiery mane of crimson hair breaks free from its
ties, coming to rest haphazardly upon her broad shoulders. Her eyes,
aglow as if still smoldering embers, peer through her hair and into your
own. Thin black lips twist into a gnarled smile in the shadow of her
visage.
The giantess skin appears to be made of a rough, cindery basalt,
emitting smoke in some places, drips of magma in others. Her armor,
strong and heavy, appears to have begin to fuse with her flesh. She
stands with arms crossed, lava flows where veins should be within her
chiseled forearms. Molten metal rolls down her breastplate.
Her legs are lean and powerful, rooted to the earth and braced to
meet her next challenger. Boots of dark iron glow where they meet the
earth. Sheathed at her side swings a fearsome axe, blood visibly
caked into its pommel.
