Sootre the Fire Giant
Nobody is sure how Sootre the Fire Giant came to being. Some say he was once a volcano who bubbled and boiled, so full of rage that he sprouted arms and legs and took to walking Mitgarde, bent on the destruction of all he encountered. Others say he was a mistake of the gods’, a blip of a creation that went horribly wrong and was meant to be discarded. Whatever way he came to be, whatever myth he sprouted from, one thing is agreed upon – he is not one you want to cross paths with.
A body of hardened lava, he walks with flames slipping out from between the cracks, his footsteps leaving hot craters of mud in the earth. He breathes a dense cloud of black smoke that lingers in the air and chokes anyone who stumbles upon it. He leaves a trail of hot steam that makes the skin boil and eyeballs wither when anybody comes in contact with it unprotected. He is fed by the sun but weakened by the cold, though his power proved too great to be defeated so easily.
Before the gods were swallowed by the Devourer, they were able to keep the monster at bay, answering the pleas from the Vaklyndyr. Though they were never able to fully defeat the creature, they were able to help, able to turn him around and drive him towards the sea or the snowy parts of Mitgarde. Sootre despised the gods for this, wishing to be among them, wishing to be as powerful as they.
Sootre did not realize that he would soon get his wish. The day the Devourer swallowed the gods, he watched. He saw them falling to Mitgarde, the rainbow bridge crumbling into pieces that would lodge itself into the ground, listened to their screams of anger, anguish and promises of vengeance.
Once the ground stopped shaking and the screams had become whispers, he grinned a fiery grin and snorted two black puffs of laughter. It looked like he was now the most powerful being of Mitgarde now and he was planning on taking advantage of it.
The Vaklyndyr were as shaken as the ground to see their gods fall, but a brave few decided they would not take this punishment lying down. They would instead stand and fight for their gods’ freedoms. And if that meant defending themselves against a fire giant, they would do that.
Sootre, taking advantage of his new freedom, left a trail of destruction through towns, villages destroyed by his footsteps, at his hands. From the darkness, an Assassin lurks, watching the beast come closer and closer. She has been tracking his trail for miles now, silently as a shadow, invisible as a breeze. She has been trying in vain to find a weakness, but if the gods could not control him, how could an ordinary person?
Suddenly he turns, coughing, his breath illuminating the night and he spots the Assassin. He grins a horrible grin and begins to run towards her. She has no choice but to react, takes aim and throws a knife at the giant, aiming for a crack in one of his giant arms. She begins backing away, trying to race for cover.
To both their surprises, the knife wedges itself in one of the giant’s joints and rips it free. His arm falls to the ground and shatters into a million fiery pieces, littering the ground with rocks of fire, embers that are still glowing. Sootre screams with pain, anguish and embarrassment. How could it be a tiny Vaklyndry has taken him down?! He turns to finish her off, but she has already disappeared from view and even his light cannot find her.