Jetni the Giant

Today, Jotunn such as Jetni are scattered and isolated in the most frigid and inhospitable depths of the Redspike Mountains, their very existence on the verge of fading into myth. These towering humanoids, long-lived with memories stretching back centuries, recall the great wars and the sacrifices of their people, the old alliances that once bound them to Teleria, and the greatness that was and could still be theirs. Some feel only a sad nostalgia, or actively wish to never repeat their violent history and fade away. But there are a few who refuse to quietly exit the stage of history. Because of their rich memories and preference for solitude, many Jotunn are prone to periods of deep reminiscence and pondering, sometimes spending months on end in physical torpor and mental cogitation. Jetni awoke one day from such a state as though from hibernation, crusted with rime alone on some mountain crag. She felt a rare fire in her icy heart, and decided that she could not let any more time slip away. She wanted to accomplish something great, like her ancestors had. But she had little in the way of worldly experience or moral understanding. Wandering from the peaks to the more inhabited lower foothills and passes, she encountered the people of Frostheim and their villages. As though following the script of a conqueror of old, she demanded tribute and submission. At first she was laughed at, but nonetheless the naive Jotunn persisted, and from brutal experience she slowly but surely became a skilled fighter and a growing menace to the northernmost Frostheim holds. The strongest of these holds, Crimsonhorn, sent forth its hetman, Alsgor, to parley with Jetni. They agreed to meet on neutral ground, to be witnessed by Alsgor’s men but from a great distance, so the two stood alone surrounded by onlookers. As they circled one another, their weapons yet sheathed but their hands twitching to draw them, Alsgor demanded a justification for her rampages. She led no followers nor hoarded plunder, and so her motives and objectives were opaque to him. Jetni fiercely replied that greatness is never won with meekness, and the proud history of Frostheim was littered with what could rightly be called rampages as well. Glory was her aim, and it required violence. Alsgor spat at her nofions. Jetni rushed toward Alsgor, and his warriors prepared to intervene. Alsgor raised his fist and stopped them in their tracks, and told them to hold. He met Jetni’s massive form head-on. Still neither drew their weapons, but brawled with bare fists and knees and teeth, for some primal sense of honor that neither could explain. Jetni’s size was countered by Alsgor’s dexterity, and he traded blows with her three-for-one, though each hit from the Jotunn was like that of a Sledgehammer. His ribs broken and his muscles pulverized, Alsgor cried out to Jetni. He named the civilized glories that he treasured: friends and family, fairness and mercy, the honor of the forefathers, protection of the weak, love of the Goddess and her Light. He swore to Jetni that without these things, war and violence would bring her only shame and ruin. Then, at last, Alsgor could rise no more, laying flat on his back and wheezing to the sky. His retinue dashed toward the scene, no longer willing to abide by his wishes and stand idle, but then Jetni, too, collapsed and could offer no further resistance. Men of Crimsonhorn swarmed her and bound her so securely that even a healthy Jotunn could not have budged, while others tended to their hetman, setting his dislocated limbs and swabbing his bloodied brow. Too beaten in body and spirit to resist her captivity, Jetni spoke once again to Alsgor, and they exchanged a few more words before they were both carried off, he to be succored and she to the center of the town to be detained in a huge makeshift cage that was constructed around her. What those words were went unrecorded, but both the man and the giant seemed to brood on them while they both recovered from their respective wounds. Six days passed for Alsgor to heal and evidence to be gathered of Jetni’s rampage, and then he presided over her trial. He stunned the assembled crowd by sentencing her to servitude rather than death – she was to repair her damages, labor to pay her debts, and learn right from wrong. Furthermore, since it was his sentence and his potential folly, he declared he would accompany her, and his force of arms would carry out the death penalty if necessary. So began a partnership and a journey of growth that shall perhaps see Jetni redeemed… if Alsgor’s guidance proves true, for he himself is a complex and troubled soul.