Gibborim

"... and so from the winged beast he fell, forced out of the heavens by formidable tempest: Rain, lightning and fury. Wing, gust and tornado. The rise and fall of a man, cursed by hubris. In those fateful moments, as he descended at great speed from the skies above, he knew that his fate had been longed sealed, every step prepared for him so that the Gods could laugh at his last moments. The dreaded waves below awaited, the sea, black as the darkest night, he had passed the mountains by now and from this height ... He would hit the water as if it was ice, rock-solid. His entire life rushed through his eyes: "What decadent being I was while living", he said, "If I were to be given a second chance, I'd change... everything." and so, with the thoughts of many dead men before him in his mind, he resigned, resigned to resist the inevitable. The wind carried the intrinsic aroma of the sea by now, the smell of the tantalizing salt rushing into his lungs. He closed his eyes, if he was to die, after all, he would die fully accepting the consequences of his mistakes, however, that thought didn't hold for long, he remembered something he had held up in the back of his mind, something hidden as he practiced debauchery and unspeakable acts that even give nightmares to the most twisted of individuals that would make their bowels turn due to the sheer repulsiveness, and he muttered the words once hidden. "If I must die, I shall welcome death... the inevitable fate of the flame is to extinguish... but it shall be done so with a blast, with force... not like this, not at the hands of some perverse joke." He yell, as loud as he could, rebelling against the fate given onto him, wrath abound, blood rushing through his veins to feed his muscles, his figure, similar to that of a living statue of bronze, darkening. "The candle's now lit, the purpose is clear and the spirit's now lifted. Rise, rebellious flame, rise from your unavoidable fall. Momentary appeasement, through nigh divine intervention." whispered a crystal clear voice, feminine and sharp, but as cold as the coldest night in mid-winter, at the top of the highest mountain of Al'Mafa, he drew breath one last time, expecting the hallucination to be over on the next moment as droplet of water had just struck his chiseled face, like a small stinging needle. Holding his breath for what seemed like an eternity, he was forced to let go. Suddenly, the omnipresent sound of the rustling of the waves was gone... as was the smell, instead substituted, by a still wet, but far more earthy aroma, the cackle of birds. Alarmed he opened his eyes, were the birds truly mocking him, or was he just projecting onto them... With that, perception revealed, he saw not the sea below, but the approaching greenery of magnanimous trees... Unsure if he should laugh, cry or be angry. He closed his eyes as he awaited the new landscape to quickly pass away. Along with his, delirious conscience..."

## The Sky Fallen Giant

Like the metal of his sword, this one, is very familiarized with the notion of falling down onto the earth from the skies, forming a particularly strong bond with it, until it is a mere extension of his cyclopean figure, as if they were carved out of one single material.

### Age:

To be precise:16527 years. (Though he only recounts about being around 14 to 15 thousand.)

### Alignment:

Lawful Good (but inclined towards Neutral)

### Major Flaw/Flaws:

Dark Fate, Dark Secret, Superstitious, Repressed nature and Duality of Self.

### Minor Flaw/Flaws:

Driving Goal, Nightmares, Stubborn, Cryptic, Bearer of Remorse, does not understand the value of currency.

### Habits/Hobbies:

Meditation, the Hunt, Carousing. Often undergoing spiritual pilgrimages.

## Description

Even for a Sun Giant, his prodigious size is a sight to behold, akin to a bronze statue ornamented with tribal leathers, feathers, hides and bone. His body is riddled by countless scars, far too many, spread throughout to start counting, testimonies of his many past experiences. Golden patronizing eyes, that calmly observe those around him, faint, yet alluring. Chiseled chin, Aquiline nose, and prominent cheekbones colour his swarthy face.

### Armor

Bearing he comes with the skull of an Ancestral Bear as his helmet, countless plumage and broad feathers anointing his attire comprised of layered hide, fur and bone. The colour pattern commonly similar to that of the landscape around him.

### Arms

Albeit you could argue that he could beat even a seasoned man with a mere stick, he prefers to use a specially crafted greatsword, made to suit his gargantuan figure.

## History

[Disclaimer: See initial excerpt for a tease, this part I rather save it for RP as it is an intrinsic part of the character and why he was shaped into the form that he is today.]

## Personality

Gibborim is a thoughtful individual, usually capable of discerning one's character with only one or two interactions, to dissect them open and present to them their flaws, but also how to fix them. Attempting to prevent others to fall in the same path that he once walked. Taciturn and ominous at times, contrasted by nostalgia and carousing behaviour (when with his very tight niche of friends). He is cursed by the duality of his nature and forcibly represses his inner ... monstrous... urges, instead, striving for a more spiritual and righteous life. Yet still, he is incapable of hiding his primordial behaviour, acting rather animalesque even if he does sound to be rather eloquent in ways of speech.

Gibborim, the adamant flame, ready to steel itself onto the darkest depth.

He is also more likely to laugh at an insult than to be offended, oftentimes using laughter as a means to avoid certain conversations or merely appease the mood, after all, unnecessary conflict is a waste of energy.

### Beliefs

He worships the Sun. Aftal. Seeing it as the only way to save himself from his deeper, repulsive being, the road to divinity now befallen. As such, he sees Forest creatures and entities under a very specific light, seeing them as direct subjects of the Sun, for their Forest, is directly dependant on the shining radiance of the sun to survive, and by adjunction, so are they. Hence, Gibborim, believes that it is his duty to protect "Aftal's little critters", whether to give them purpose, trace their path, be an obstacle for their own betterment or their end for the prosperity of the flock. His redemption.

Regarding the undead, and those who otherwise hide themselves from the "Sun's Glory" he has varying reactions towards. At the the first, it is a sheer disgust, almost hate, considering them abnormal to the Great Plan, mistakes that should be fixed. While at the latter, it is far more complex than that, if we were speaking about the Drow, "Little Shades" as he calls them, there's an almost underlying sentiment of guilt and pity, for in their abhorrence towards the Sun, they strive away from its divinity and ultimately condemn themselves into ever so decayful habits, bound to blink out of existance. As such, as long as it doesn't directly influence those who he deems that are "abiding by the Great Plan", he may reveal to be particularly helpful. At one point even going to far as to say that he would force himself to be the blazing flame of radiance in the deepest of abysses and no matter where darkness existed, shining Aftal's divinity through him, for not only the Sun provides light, light can also be cast from within, to provide purpose and clarity to those in need, while maintaining the natural scale. That is his ultimate ideal.

If one doesn't pay too much attention, or ignores his bronze skin, one may mistake him as some sort of... forest guardian... albeit that is true to some extent, he only partakes in that role for the reasons already established. However, this can mean a multitude of things, from aiding in reforestation and personally planting trees and bushes, cull a particular animal population or quite in fact, raise calfs himself and so as expected, he tends to be rather friendly towards forest-related beings, almost as if there was an inherent innate link between them and him. Spent much time with fauna and flora alike, he listens to the whispers of the Forest and tends to its whims, while some may call him the King of the Forests... he is more like a gardener. A masterful one, who has spent countless millennia sharpening his craft, meticulously tending to the same trees, bushes and animal stock, shaping them into what they are today.

### Quirks

He speaks in a very odd manner, quickly shifting from referring to himself as "He" or "This one" or using his title, Gibborim, instead of using the first-person singular. On top of that, from time to time, he speaks in riddles, metaphors (at times, speaking both literally and figuratively speaking) and other figures of speech, making him sound almost poetic as he speaks. He also seems to have some sort of abhorrence to using first people's names, opting instead to give them a nickname, oftentimes regarding their physical, mental or social capabilities and most likely a mix of atleast two of these.
Not only that, but he may even acknowledge animals or objects as actual people, or atleast, deserving of being treated as such.

### Relationships

He is quite fond of the Kitsune named Mio, seeing her as an escape to the tedious monotony of life due to her shrewd, yet coy, mercurial nature.