West Marches - Copenhagen
Firbolg bard and miner, suspicious of other customs but honorable
Crashcolumn’s firbolg ancestors were the survivors of a disaster centuries ago, which turned their entire forest to stone and buried it deep underground. Now the gentle giants struggle for survival in the mines, excavating petrified wood. “Crashcolumn” is a job title, from his use of magic to collapse depleted mine shafts. “Skildpadde” is the gnomish name he uses to trade with the deep gnomes, which is the only way the resource-poor firbolg community can acquire food and supplies.
Permanently hunched from the mines and swinging stringy, disease-damaged arms, Crashcolumn is much weaker than most firbolgs. By necessity, he has become a rather unenthusiastic bard instead, providing minor magical protection and boosting morale with chants of the ancient days of sunlight and forests. Young and untalented, he is used to obeying his superiors’ orders and placing their life above his own. He has no respect for strange foreign laws and customs, but individuals who impress him deeply will find him dutifully supporting them in any endeavor.
Crashcolumn often displays a petrified wood carving of a tree with two canopies, one buried and one in sunlight. He claims that the mine foremen gave him this as instruction to find a new forest in these distant lands, so his people can live above ground once more. Crashcolumn is clearly fascinated by all the plants and animals he has never seen before, but it is unclear why an unproven musician would be chosen for such an important task.