The Gigantes The gigantes are titanic beings, from twenty to sixty feet tall. They’re roughly humanoid in figure, but not of human features or proportions. Their overlarge heads accommodate massive wide-toothed jaws, bowing slightly under the skull’s weight. Their eyes have an an- thracitic sheen; heavy muscles sheathe their elongated limbs; their hairless, rough skins range from alabaster white to obsidian black to slate gray. What the Southeast’s peoples know of the gigantes mostly comes from their dreaded raiding parties. Warbands of up to a dozen gigantes leave Dis to seize as many slaves as they can bring back, attacking ships and coastal villages. No ordinary vessel could bear such a crew’s weight; they travel on whales, siaka, and other sea-beasts enthralled through their prehuman magics, or traverse the skies by sorcery. They raid infrequent- ly — only when Dis’ slave population needs replenish- ment — though some periods have seen numerous, ag- gressive attacks. The once-flourishing culture of the gigantes’ empire still thrives in Dis. Within its walls, poets recite an- tediluvian epics, savants debate philosophy and pen great treatises, and rakes dally with their paramours. It’s ruled by a prince, heir of a royal lineage that false- ly claims descent from the makers of the world. At the great Fluxstone Table, twelve magisters advise the prince in matters of policy and receive her edicts to de- liver unto the city’s populace. Its arts and culture are all but incomprehensible to human audiences — baroque compositions that seem to repeat endlessly, any varia- tions too subtle for outsiders to grasp.
