Fortunately for the storyteller, there was a new mug of cold ale on the bartop when he came back to his seat. He resumed his story while watching the people's reaction to his words.
"Jo-Ur made his home in the mountains of Belthegor, or his ancestral oceans in Kennat, no scholar is for sure. Both homes, or either, were constantly wreathed in awesome lightning and stormclouds too thick to see through. When he would descend, the lightning would follow him and his feet would clap on the ground like thunder. Jo-Ur could be heard arriving from leagues away by land, but he was as silent a swimmer as a trout. The thunderous sound of his feet would frighten even the most stolid of soldiers, and the Belthegorian army would only need to call Jo-Ur to have won the battle. You see, Jo-Ur loved the battles he fought in. It made him very happy to be affirmed of his power, slinging bolts of lightning at enemy battalions and using his sword to sweep entire platoons of giant-killers away from him. The only things he had trouble fighting were fellow giants, especially those agile clouddwelling giants. They could float through the air and move like water past his sword, using their weapons to find the cracks in his armour.
“Jo-Ur was not a wandering person. He was content to stay in his home, wherever it was, the halls wreathed in lightning clouds and horrible weather. Those homes were full of books bound for his reading. He was a wonderful reader and had libraries full of books on the history of giants. Much of the scholarly world’s knowledge of giantkind and their kin can be traced, in some way, to the words from Jo-Ur’s mouth or the print in his books. He had lists of the family history of most giants, including himself. The book was interleaved with blank pages for recording newborns and additions to those family trees. Any scholar of giantkind has likely, at one point or another, handled a book or a reproduction of one that was in Jo-Ur’s collection. He would stay in his home, keeping his strength up with an intense training regimen, and sharpen his mind to the sensitivities of those omens that storm giants love to see. But cloud giants led a life that hardened their bodies and minds in a separate way from Jo-Ur’s. Where his muscles were developed from hours of swimming across the oceans, giants of the air were farmers. Their prodigious crops, more massive than any human fruits, caused the growth of their bodies. Their families fought together ferociously, moving about a battlefield like gales of winds.”
The bard could tell this wasn't what the people wanted to hear, watching their faces shift around. Their eyes weren't trained on him anymore, even if he had their ears.
"And in the Ark Isles, the ancestral home of the goliaths, trouble was stirring. The goliaths in those days were a people of the land, not keen on the civilizations that were becoming prominent. They had left well enough alone so far, but the Belthegorians had come to them and purchased their land. They ravaged it for what was there, the lumber and metals and gems in the ground. Because of this, the Belthegorians and goliaths came to odds, waiting for a spark to ignite the flames of war. That spark came in the winter of the third year they inhabited Sienna. A goliath was found snooping about in a lumberyard and came to trial for trespassing. He was put in prison for four years and fined 500 gold. The other goliaths conspired to break him out of jail, and then a Belthegorian warband marched to recapture him. They found him in the wilderness and put him to death, which caused hatred in every goliath, even the most easy-going. From there, the conflict escalated until the conquerors thought it necessary to call Jo-Ur from his hall, eldinheim, to do battle.
"The goliaths entreated the help of the cloud giants, sending messengers on their powerful horses to where they knew the cloud giants would be flying overhead. They moved them deeply with their plight and first gave them plans for weapons that could destroy giants. They knew the Jo-Ur would arrive wherever the Belthegorians were having trouble, and so equipped the Goliaths to fight him. They also told them of their hero, Na-Basma Arvyo, who would be arriving back to their cloud-homes within a month. Na- Basma was a cloud giant famous in the world of giantkin for having slaughtered a dragon, then taking his hoard to make armour and weapons from it. His golden platemail gleamed in the sunshine like a solar flare, nearly blinding those who fought him. He knew many cloud giants and could find room for himself in any of their communities. This way, he met many giants, most of all skiltgravr, and was happy to accept their help in making his armour magical. It gleamed so brightly because it was magical, his shoes could sprout wings, and his helmet and shield could transform into animals that would fight alongside him. He was an amazing magician as well, able to blow wind with the force of a hurricane in the midst of a battle. Wherever Na-Basma went, a tornado could follow him at his will. Na-Basma knew of Jo-Ur and would be happy to cross his sword with him, the cloud giants said, so they could count on his assistance in the fight.
"Na-Basma's battle with the dragon was a long-fought campaign. Giants hate dragons most vehemently, and when Na- Basma learned of a dispute that fire giants were having with an old red dragon, he jumped at the chance to assist them. Even underground, Na-Basma found he could blow gales just the same. He calmly walked to the dragon and blew the flames it spewed away with gusts of powerful wind that could knock a grown man off of his feet. It took Na-Basma weeks to get to the bottom of his lair, for the dragon's cave was full of dragonborn, kobolds, and goblins it had forced into servitude. The giant took all of them on himself, his two daggers and incredible grappling ability taking him through the cave. When Na-Basma was face-to-face with that horrible serpent, he grabbed it around its neck and stabbed it straight through his maw after calmly approaching and blowing its fire out of his way. Then the treasure that the dragon had stolen away was Na- Basma's, all the gemstones and coins, raw metals, and even its bones. He trapped its soul in a jar he kept about his neck, the firey demon raging against its glass prison while Na-Basma fought invigorated him.
"Na-Basma took the carcass of the dragon and all his gold to Djullveig's forge. Djullveig took these great gifts in stride, asking Na- Basma to allow him a few years to forge for him knives, a sword, armour, and a wonderous golden shield. Great armour it was, as well, resplendent with gemstones and golden plate interweaved with the bones and scales of the dead dragon. The knives were sharpened teeth out of the dragon's maw, and the sword was a sharpened bone from its leg. By this time, Djullveig was not only a master smith but a master skiltgravr as well. The chisels and drills necessary to cut those magical runes flew in his well-practiced hands. Djullveig decided that he would try something he had never done before, to animate pieces of a dead thing affixed to armour. He sewed the great wings of the dragon to the ankles of Na-Basma's curled shoes, then scratched runes into the leather to animate them to fly. Whenever Na-Basma spoke the command word, they would unfurl and bear him through the sky without magic.
"Thus Na-Basma returned to the cloud giants above the Ark Isles, his flying shoes carrying him through the sky to see his family again. They told him of the assistance they promised to the goliaths. He was eager to battle Jo-Ur. Na-Basma was a tricky giant, not keen to fight a losing battle. He knew he could not win a duel against Jo-Ur, and he wouldn't be so brash as to try. He instead conceived a trick, he would sneak up on Jo-Ur as he slept after a battle. That opportunity came quickly enough. Jo-Ur and his wife swam through the water like fish from Mannon to Sienna. When he arrived, he immediately went to war, drawing his sword from his hip and cutting through thousands of goliaths, and fought against the machines the cloud giants designed for them. He fought there for weeks before they attempted using that weaponry. The goliaths fashioned a catapult that could launch bolas large enough to wrap around his legs to unsteady him and cause him to fall to the ground. One bola caught Jo-Ur in the legs and knocked him over. The goliaths rushed to pull a net over him, but he ripped it off, standing up again and smashing their catapult before it could do more. He bashed it with the flat of his sword, using the sharp steel much more like a club. That battle was another decisive win for the campaign in Sienna. After the battle, a group of goliaths led by Na- Basma wrapped Jo-Ur's wife in nets to restrain her. They thought she was her husband from how deeply she was snoring, but they slaughtered her just the same. Their swords and spears pierced the veins in her neck and bled her dry. Jo-Ur woke up and roared with a horrible start, crying at the death of his wife. His sword he took in hand and cut away the horrible goliaths who would kill a man's wife while they slept, and in the gleam of the moonlight, all he could see was red. Na-Basma faced him, two giants fighting in that horrible night, their footsteps thundering for every soldier to hear. Jo-Ur's quick temper embodied the fury of the storm, and any wind knows the power of the storm is only amplified by the gale. Despite every buffeting, controlling wind Na-Basma tried blowing to push him about the battlefield, Jo-Ur stood stalwartly. It was an arduous battle, both sides striking in earnest. Na-Basma couldn't fight at range with the same fury of Jo-Ur's lightning, and it couldn't be blown away by simple winds. If Jo-Ur attempted to move, the wind Na-Basma blew would catch his prodigious body and move him backward. Every time the Na-Basma blew, he would grin wickedly and wait for Jo-Ur to begin moving again, watching him move to make himself smaller so he could not be blown about as easily. It strained his legs to steel himself against such buffeting gales, and it made Na-Basma tired to blow such strong winds. His guard faltered as Jo-Ur came close, and Jo-Ur rose his sword above his head to cut Na-Basma's head from his body. As he breathed his last, Na- Basma raised his sword to attempt to defend himself and caught the flat of Jo-Ur's blade, scratching its protective rune deeply through.
"The Belthegorians won that war, eventually. Jo-Ur became furious after that, taking a great many risks that would lead to him being harmed or worse if he weren't a giant-among-giants. His general gave the call for the spellcasters to begin bombarding the enemy with spells, and Jo-Ur decided that he would take well advantage of the confusion it would create. Meteors sailed above his head as his blade swung true, some striking him atop his armour. He roared and reared back, a meteor striking the rune on his chest. This blow scratched that rune, too, rendering its function of it useless. But he spilled the blood of those unfortunate goliaths, smashing them with thrown boulders as big as one goliath was tall or larger. All that chaos caused their retreat, but Jo-Ur gave chase in his fury. He kicked them from their horses as they turned tail, refusing them their lives. The furious giant cleaved the very earth apart with his massive sword, the curved blade hacking at the dirt. Then the battle was over, his thundering footsteps and his horrible blade had taken the lives of the rebellious goliath tribes. As he swam away from Sienna after his time there was over, the year in which his wife died had taken an apparent toll on him. His face was no longer cleanly shaven, he had grown a magnificent beard and his hair was graying away. When he arrived back at his hall, Jo-Ur looked at his sword, the gleaming flat of the blade, and noticed a knick in the edge. The damage Na-Basma had done to his blade shook him to his core, that in his grief for his wife, he may also have to grieve for his faithful sword. He resolved, then, to put away the sword for good and to hang up his pauldrons. Jo-Ur had done enough work as a warrior, 465 years of the life of a warrior had been enough. He entrusted his sword to the care of the Belthegorian empire, until his heir came to collect the sword. They placed it in their treasury, but, dear patrons of the arts, the sword is no longer there. It must have been stolen, for Jo-Ur's wife was murdered in the night before she ever gave birth to his child."