Goliath
Goliaths are the rugged descendants of ancient giantkin, born of stone and sky, molded by high cliffs, harsh winters, and the relentless challenges of survival. Towering above most humanoids, they possess broad, muscular frames, stone-hued skin marked with natural patterns that resemble mountain strata or carved glyphs, and eyes like weathered granite or stormclouds. Every inch of a Goliath speaks of endurance and resilience, shaped by a legacy carved from the spines of mountains.
They hail primarily from highland crags and storm-wracked ranges, often inhabiting secluded plateaus, cliffside villages, or nomadic camps that cling precariously to the bones of the world. While not giants themselves, goliaths claim ancient ties to them—especially to the Stone Giants and the earth Titan Goromund—and see themselves as the mortal inheritors of the high places of Aigusyl. Their culture reveres not only strength of body, but endurance of Spirit and the quiet wisdom of the peaks.
Goliaths live by a code of merit and self-reliance, where personal greatness is measured not only by feats of might, but by how much one can endure, carry, or protect. Among them, glory is earned in climbing higher, carrying more, lasting longer—alone if needed, but together when possible. There are no inherited ranks or unearned privileges. Leadership is proven, not given, and those who falter are expected to rise again, or step aside without resentment.
Despite their stern exterior and formidable strength, goliaths are deeply communal. Bonds of shared struggle run deeper than blood, and every life saved or burden lifted for another is counted as sacred. They often form tight-knit groups called hearthbands, which function as both extended families and survival units. Decisions are made collectively, and disputes are settled through contests of strength, wit, or endurance—never petty violence.
Their connection to the land is spiritual as well as physical. Many goliaths become druids, rangers, or shamans of stone, wind, or snow. They read omens in avalanches, hear wisdom in the groaning of ice, and believe that the mountains themselves remember. Some receive dreams from Goromund or other ancient spirits, and these chosen few often leave their hearthbands to become Stonewalkers, wanderers who seek ancient truths buried in cliff tombs and storm caverns.
Although few in number and often isolated, goliaths are not unknown in the wider world. Those who descend from the heights often become adventurers, mercenaries, or champions—living testaments to the raw will of the peaks. Others are drawn by visions or omens, believing themselves called to protect the world from forces that would shatter its foundations.
To meet a goliath is to meet a living monument—unyielding, grounded, and forged in silence and wind. Though their words may be few and their laughter rare, their presence is enduring. Like the peaks they call home, goliaths stand tall not to be admired, but to weather the storm—for themselves, and for others who cannot.