The Legend of Killjo: The Giant Slayer

The Legend of Killjo: The Giant Slayer

The land of Vaelora was vast, stretching from the snow-capped Paradise Mountains to the Exotic Southern plains of Scythe where merchants traveled to trade fine silks, spices, and rare gems. The main trade route, the King's Road, was the artery of the kingdom, bringing life to cities and villages alike. But in recent months, terror gripped the hearts of traders and travelers, for an evil had awoken in the hills—a monstrous hill giant named Ugu.

Ugu was no ordinary giant. Standing over fifteen feet tall, with skin like cracked stone and a brutal intelligence uncommon to his kind, he had descended from the wild hills to the west to prey on trade caravans. His hunger was insatiable, and worse, it was not gold or goods he sought—it was flesh. The man-eating giant had devoured many, leaving only shattered wagons and mutilated bodies in his wake. The fear of Ugu spread like wildfire, and soon, the King’s Road, once bustling with life, became a corridor of death.

Rumors of the giant's attacks reached every corner of Vaelora, even the furthest towns. But no one dared to challenge the monster. He was too large, too strong, and too cunning for most men. Yet in one tavern, far to the north, where the cold winds howled outside and the fire within crackled warmly, a man of few words listened quietly to these tales. His name was Killjo.

Killjo was a barbarian—a human warrior from the unforgiving wastes beyond the kingdom’s borders. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and muscled like a bear, with tangled black hair that fell to his shoulders and eyes the color of storm clouds. His face was lined with the scars of battles long past, but none of his enemies had lived to tell the tales. The great axe strapped to his back was his only companion, a weapon forged in ancient times, worn and weathered yet still deadly as ever.

As Killjo sat at the bar, listening to the hushed whispers of the traders, his thoughts were not of the giant's size or strength. They were of the challenge. He had slain beasts and men alike, but a hill giant—especially one as cunning as Ugu—was a foe worthy of his steel.

The tavern keeper, an older man with a bushy white beard, leaned over the counter and grumbled, “Ye heading out there, lad? They say Ugu’s eaten two more caravans this week. Nobody’s come back. It’s madness.”

Killjo sipped his ale, his gray eyes fixed on the fire. “Where’s the last caravan that fell?”

“West of Brackenton, near the Redstone Hills,” the tavern keeper replied. “But lad, ye ought to think twice. That giant’ll tear ye apart.”

Killjo stood without a word, tossed a few coins on the counter, and walked out into the cold night. He would find Ugu. And he would kill him.

The Hunt for Ugu

Killjo journeyed south toward the Redstone Hills, where the remains of the last caravan had been found. The road was quiet, too quiet, with no signs of life. The forests that flanked the King’s Road seemed devoid of wildlife, as if even the animals knew to flee from the terror lurking nearby. The air grew heavy, filled with the scent of rain and the distant rumble of thunder as storm clouds gathered over the hills.

Killjo’s senses were sharp, honed from years of survival in the wilds. As he approached the base of the Redstone Hills, he spotted the broken remains of a wagon strewn across the road. The horses had been slaughtered, their bodies torn apart with brutal efficiency. Blood stained the ground, and bits of armor and cloth littered the dirt. But it was the giant footprints, each one as wide as a barrel, that told Killjo he was close.

He scanned the horizon, his eyes narrowing. The hills rose like jagged teeth, the rocks red as if stained with old blood. Somewhere within those hills, Ugu would be waiting, hiding in his lair, waiting for another caravan to wander into his domain.

Killjo knelt by the tracks, studying them. Ugu had not left long ago. His prey was close. The barbarian rose, his hand gripping the hilt of his axe, and began his ascent into the hills. His muscles tensed with every step, his senses alert for the slightest sound, the faintest shift in the wind. He moved with the grace of a predator, silent and swift, following the trail deeper into the hills.

Hours passed, and the sky darkened as the storm rolled in. The wind howled through the rocks, and rain began to fall in heavy sheets. But Killjo pressed on, his eyes sharp in the dim light. As he reached a plateau overlooking a narrow valley, he saw it—a cave mouth, dark and gaping, like the maw of some ancient beast.

Ugu’s Lair

The stench of death hit Killjo’s nose before he even reached the cave. The ground outside was littered with bones, some human, others animal, all picked clean. A pile of rotting bodies lay near the entrance, remnants of Ugu’s latest feast. But one figure stood out among the dead—a young woman, barely alive, her clothes torn, her body bruised and bloodied. She was tied to a stake, her eyes fluttering as she clung to the last thread of life.

Killjo approached her quietly, cutting the ropes that bound her. Her eyes opened weakly, revealing a spark of hope. “Please… help me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from days of suffering.

He lifted her gently, placing her against the wall of the cave’s entrance, shielding her from the rain. “You’re safe now. What’s your name?”

“Rosa,” she whispered. “My father… the caravan… they’re all dead. Ugu… he killed them all.”

Killjo’s gaze hardened. He knew he had no time to waste. The girl was too weak to move, and Ugu would soon return to finish what he had started. Killjo stood, his great axe gleaming in the rain.

“Stay here. I’ll be back,” he said, his voice calm yet fierce with determination.

Rosa’s eyes widened. “You can’t! He’s… he’s a monster.”

Killjo gave her a small nod. “So am I.”

With that, he turned and entered the cave.

The Battle with Ugu

Inside the cave, the air was thick with the smell of blood and rot. Torches flickered along the walls, casting long, twisted shadows. The deeper Killjo went, the louder the sound of crunching bones became. He rounded a corner and there, sitting in the center of the cavern, was Ugu.

The hill giant was even more monstrous than the stories had said. His skin was like gray stone, covered in scars and dirt. His beady eyes gleamed with malice, and his mouth was smeared with the blood of his latest meal. In his hand, he held the remains of a man, the body limp and lifeless as Ugu gnawed on the bones.

Killjo’s presence was not unnoticed. Ugu raised his head, his yellow eyes locking onto the barbarian. A low growl rumbled from his chest as he dropped the corpse and stood, his massive frame filling the cavern.

“Another morsel,” Ugu rumbled, his voice deep and guttural. “I will enjoy breaking your bones.”

Killjo said nothing. He gripped his axe tightly, his muscles coiling like a spring ready to unleash. The tension in the air was palpable, the silence before the storm.

With a deafening roar, Ugu charged, his giant fists crashing down toward Killjo. The barbarian sidestepped the blow, rolling to the side as the ground shook beneath the giant’s fists. Killjo swung his axe in a wide arc, aiming for Ugu’s leg, but the giant was fast, faster than any creature his size should be. Ugu lashed out with a backhanded strike, sending Killjo sprawling across the cavern floor.

Killjo grunted in pain but quickly rolled to his feet, his axe still in hand. Ugu advanced, swinging a massive club made from a tree trunk. The barbarian dodged the strike, the club smashing into the stone walls and sending rocks flying.

Killjo knew he couldn’t win a battle of strength against the giant. He had to be smarter, faster. He darted in again, this time slashing at Ugu’s ankle. The giant roared in pain as blood sprayed from the wound, but it wasn’t enough to bring him down.

Ugu swung again, but Killjo was already moving, his body a blur of motion. He leaped onto a boulder and then onto Ugu’s back, driving his axe deep into the giant’s shoulder. Ugu howled in fury, thrashing wildly as he tried to dislodge the barbarian.

Killjo held on with a grim determination, using his weight and momentum to drive the axe deeper. With a roar of pure rage, Ugu reached back and grabbed Killjo, ripping him off his back and hurling him across the cavern.

Killjo slammed into the ground, the wind knocked out of him. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. He struggled to his feet, his axe still clenched in his hand.

Ugu lumbered toward him, bleeding from multiple wounds but still standing. “You will die, human!”

Finally, with one last roar of defiance, Ugu raised his club for a final, desperate swing. But Killjo was already moving. He leaped onto the giant’s back, climbing up Ugu’s broad shoulders like a mountain climber scaling a peak.

With a powerful swing, Killjo brought his axe down on Ugu’s neck. The blade cleaved through flesh and bone, and with a sickening crunch, the giant’s head rolled from his shoulders.

Ugu’s body collapsed, the ground shaking with the impact.

Killjo stood over the giant’s decapitated body, his chest heaving with exertion. Blood dripped from his axe, mixing with the rain that now poured in through the cave’s entrance. He wiped the sweat from his brow and returned to Rosa, who laid shaking cold in the rain hidden behind a broken cart.

She looked at him with wide eyes, her face pale and trembling. But the fear in her eyes changed now awe and admiration.

Killjo gathered many of the valuables into a sac and tossed it on the ground next to Rosa. He scooped her up and she collapsed into his arms, weak but alive. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I thought I was going to die.”

"Not today." Killjo said with a satisfied smile.

And so from Taverns and Inns of The Vaelora comes the Tale of Killjo: The Giant Slayer.

The Legend of Killjo