Quill and Compass, Entry 21: Half-Trolls

The Giantkin of Troll descent were the first of their kind that I encountered on my journey, one does not travel long in Gaiaxia without learning the particular way Troll blood announces itself. It's not just their size, though that alone is nigh impossible to ignore, it is the way the Realm seems to subtly shift around them. Doorframes are judged before entry, chairs are tested before trust is given, and crowds part not out of fear, but necessity. When I first shared a tavern with one, the room did not fall silent; instead, it leaned in, as though the building itself wished to see whether it would hold. He stood a full head and shoulders above everyone else in the dockside tavern, and when he laughed, the tables nearby rattled in quiet protest.

Half-Trolls are unmistakable, most stand between eight and nine feet tall, depending greatly on the nature of their other ancestry. Even the smallest among them tower over common folk, though they remain diminutive when compared to the true Giants from whom their blood is born. Their frames tend toward the long-limbed, yet surprisingly powerful; there is a certain stretched elegance to them, like a bow drawn too far and held there for years, but still manages to aim true. Their skin bears the muted hues of greens dulled toward moss, greys like river stone, browns touched with bark and loam. These tones are often broken by coloration inherited from the other half of their lineage, though the Troll influence never vanishes entirely. Many possess heavy brows, broad noses, and slightly pointed features that hint at something far older than themselves. Their eyes are typically dark, sometimes so much so that the iris is difficult to distinguish from the pupil. Their hair grows thick and long, often coarse, and many Half-Trolls wear it swept back or braided simply out of practicality. Facial hair is rare, and when it does appear, it is usually sparse and uneven. Many Half-Trolls bear long, spindly tails inherited from their kin, which are regarded with a mix of pride and inconvenience by those who bear them.

What truly sets the Half-Trolls apart, however, is not simply their appearance, but their unmatched durability and otherworldly ability to heal from injury. Wounds close with unsettling speed. Bruises fade overnight. Gashes knit themselves together in days rather than weeks. I have watched a Half-Troll rise from injuries that would have left anyone else bedridden or buried, and do so with an expression that suggested only mild annoyance. This regenerative talent is not the miracle enjoyed by their full Troll cousins; their limbs do not regrow, and grievous injuries can still maim or kill. Yet compared to other mortals, their recovery borders on the uncanny.
This gift is not without cost. Healers eye them warily, uncertain how much aid is needed or whether interference might do more harm than good. Less scrupulous employers are quick to assume this resilience equates to expendability. Enemies learn, often too late, that putting a Half-Troll down is not the same as keeping them there.

Culturally, Half-Trolls inherit much from their ancestry. Dominance, strength, and endurance loom large in their upbringing, even when no one can quite explain why. Many Half-Troll communities place great emphasis on physical contests, feats of strength, or ritualized competition; not out of cruelty, but from a deep-seated belief that the pecking order must be proven rather than assumed. However, unlike their Giant forebears, Half-Trolls are not nomads by nature. They settle. They build. They farm, fish, and trade. Yet there is often a restlessness beneath the surface, a discomfort with stagnation that manifests as seasonal travel, mercenary work, or a fondness for dangerous professions. I have met more Half-Troll caravan guards than I can easily count, and not one claimed the road frightened them; it merely felt familiar, comfortable.

Socially, they occupy a somewhat awkward space. Too large to be ignored and too different to be trusted without effort in many cases. In mixed settlements they are often seen as protectors or laborers first, and people second. Those raised among other Half-Trolls tend to fare better; shared experience tempers isolation, and children learn early that their strength is a responsibility rather than just a birthright.

They emerged during the Age of Divergence with the rest of the Giantkin, and in many ways they remain emblematic of their Giant heritage as a whole. They are living compromises; between creation and consequence, between myth and mortality. They are not Giants, and they are certainly not monsters. They are people shaped by a past they did not choose, carrying strength they must learn to live with rather than simply wield.

I have shared many meals with them, traveled under their watch, and slept more soundly knowing one stood guard nearby. That, I find, is the most telling measure of any folk.
Yours, ever truly,
— Tobias Elanor, Bard, Scholar, Explorer Extraordinaire

© DracTheDrake

Hello hello!

The Giantkin as a whole are one of my personal favorite species groups in Gaiaxia. Each is inspired by different giants from mythology around the world, with plenty of our own tweaks, customizations, and add-ins, of course.

Trollkin in particular were more of a social experiment than anything. They come from the largest of the Giants who value strength and dominance above all else, but are tempered by their other half and integrate into broader society. I wanted them to be these larger-than-life figures who fill every room they're in, either through sheer size or presence.

I hope you're still enjoying Quill and Compass! If you are, I'd love for you to let me know. This is mostly a passion project, but seeing comments of readers enjoying it puts a smile on my face. See you in the next entry, we're covering Half-Ogres!