Igris the Crimson

Born the son of a traveling mercenary and a fire giantess, Igris was shunned by giant society. Living with his human father and elder half brother Greil the young giant traveled the countryside learning to fight from a young age. Battle scarred and callous, the hardened veteran of the battlefield joined the military, waging war in the name of faceless political figures that signed his paycheck. His renown and aggression saw Igris rise through the ranks with startling ease, climbing to a decorated general in his rampages that carved through the lands in a bloody stream. Arrogance embraced the young warrior and filled his mind with thoughts of invincibility that would only prove his downfall. An explosion caught him in the ribs with Igris taking the brunt of the force through his body. Even his leathery hide had seared like cooked meat under the intensity, not a career ending injury but one that saw him leave the battlefield cursing and raging the entire time.

Weeks passed and he’d already grown bored of the docile life his father had created. While Greil was off to war he was stuck at home crippled and feeling sorry for himself. The thought made Igris sick to his stomach, the mighty General Igris The Crimson reduced to a withering pile of slag. The disgrace made his pride reel each day as he recovered. He stared out the window with a dreary monotony watching a slug slide across the glass. His eyebrow quirked as the slug started to boil, heat from somewhere outside searing its fragile mucus-covered flesh. The slug suddenly burst across the window shortly followed by a burst of flames lunging through the window. Melted glass spattered his face causing Igris to sputter in confusion before the blood chilling shriek let him know what had come to their peaceful town. The roar of a red dragon shook his home and before he could react his now elderly father lunged out the door to face the beast in the stead of his injured son. The fight was valiant yet sadly short lived as the creature was simply faster than the aged merc. The claws and fangs tore into the man while Igris watched with pain his tawny eyes. His weapon of choice was ill suited to opponents much larger than him with tough scales and flaming breath but rage fueled his steps with each breath causing him pain.

The town lay in ruins with bodies piled high, nothing remained but a heaving giant covered in blood and gripping a dragon tooth in his hand atop a mountain of rubble. The creature had gotten away and not without taking more than a few chunks of Igris with it. The creature had come down to raid them for food and took the lives of many more for pure entertainment. Vile creatures that took lives for the sake of taking. Igris swore his revenge at the top of his breath before passing out from blood loss. Days later he finally awoke to see Greil poking at a campfire making breakfast.

Having recounted the tale to Greil the two half-siblings set out once Igris was healed to fight the foul creature that had taken their father. Though the reptilian fiend was a beast of a fight the two tracked the creature to its lair and took their revenge. This would ignite a hatred of the creatures in Igris’ heart for years. With his father avenged and his injuries healed, Igris returned to the battlefield. As wars raged on the hardened fighter became disillusioned with the entire thing, guilt weighing on his mind as he thought of the dragon and what it had taken from him. Was he too like that monster? Taking lives for the pay and the thrill. He’d grown weary of the daily bloodshed and sought greater feats. He wished to be more than just a murder weapon.

Upon one fateful day he heard a noise not uncommon for the battlefield, a scream. But it wasn’t the scream that made his blood run cold, but the message. Four simple words that made the half giant pray he was wrong as he rushed toward the source. “Help! Get off me!” with the tone and urgency of a woman in distress. War had hardened the general but even knowing the horrors of war there were some things even he couldn’t abide. He rounded the corner to find his second in command with pants down violating a young woman in the streets. A vicious fury filled Igris’ heart and his hands moved before his mind could react. Two giant hands went around the man’s throat and the last sound the man made was a sickening crack as Igris easily snapped his neck like a toothpick. The frenzied giant decided to make an example of the man and ripped him free from his sheathe within the victim only to scorch the offending weapon to ash while its owner choked on his own spit. Igris tore limbs from the suffering creature like a master surgeon to prolong each bit of suffering before he was told to stop. He breathed for a moment only to hear a cadet talk about it not being that big a deal and how he’d done it recently as well. The frenzy began from there as Igris slaughtered each and every one of the men in his platoon.

With a quick letter sent by a trained goose to Greil, Igris left his past life to travel and enjoy the world as his father before him had. Labeled a traitor and potential threat Igris was black listed and sent into hiding where he lives out his days drawing his misdeeds in alcohol rying to forget a life of suffering.