The Neverwood Thornies
Noble Giant Family
War. To have it in a certain way, on a scale of combat that could only be achieved by hundreds of thousands of men.
Noble Giants cannot have these wars. There are not enough of them. Not enough blood to shed, territory to stagger.
But the Neverwood Thornies have seen these human wars, their magnitude. And they have laughed uncontrollably at its fog.
This is now their rampancy. Called to the imaginary front lines. without an enemy, a force to be clashed, but for the trees surrounding the Thornies hidden mud-estate. They have been dubbed *enemy* to the supremacy of the Noble Giant. And they must be destroyed. Every last one.
There is a sort of made up military ranking system the Thornies use, but the order may change up to four times per day. Leads to infighting and fits and isolated crying from hurt feelings. Though, in the end, the war against the formidable tree horde is all that matters.
The local woodlot is a goddamn shit-place. Like a lightning storm had a vendetta. Dead animals. Dead people. Dead everything. It would seem that the Thornies are winning their war. As there have been no casualties on the side of the Giants. They are, naturally, very proud of this.
Suffering splinters is all apart of the deal. Wounds of pride.
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