Tuesday, December 17, 2013
They don't throw stones; Blunderbore prefer to thrash their opponents with a stout piece of wood, say a section of an old elm tree. They carry weapons, once they've been able to acquire something suitable, but they prefer not to nick-up their blades on tiny ones. Unless provoked.
They are uncouth, loud and prone to bouts of incredibly noxious dyspepsia. They insist on eating things that do not always agree with them. They also have no qualms about devouring those who do agree with them. If they can catch them.
Slow-witted...they know that they are not as smart as others. What they lack in terms of intelligence, they try to make-up in terms of stubbornness and determination. They entertain dim, slightly distorted ambitions of sorts. They'll regale their prisoners with long, tedious, drawn-out accounts of such things as they'd really rather be doing once they've managed to stoutly secure their prisoners. More than one such prisoner has opted for suicide in order to escape the never-ending inane prattling of a Blunderbore. They rarely notice.
They do not give up. Not often, never easily. They'll lose interest and take a nap, but they're probably faking it. They'll sometimes strike a bargain to be done with some disagreeable business, but they won't always stick to the agreement.
They operate alone. Outcasts from the other Giants. Never inquire about such things; it aggravates them terribly and an agitated Blunderbore is a terrifying thing indeed.