Veyra is unusually slender for a goliath, her tall frame built more like a willow than a mountain. Her skin is storm-gray, etched with pale vertical markings that run along her arms and throat. Her left cheek bears a faint line of lithoderms like a broken constellation. Despite her slight build, her voice is immense — a resonant, commanding chant that carries across Midgard each dawn.
She dresses plainly in furs lined with raven feathers, wearing a necklace of carved bone beads inscribed with the names of heroes past. Veyra is a figure of ritual and reverence, her daily chants both an alarm clock and a living history lesson for the people of Midgard.
“You’ll hear her before you see her. Veyra Thunderchant — the Dawncaller of Midgard. She’s tall and gray like all her kind, but slimmer than most, like the wind carved her lean. Every morning she climbs the walls of Skjaldgardr and shakes the town awake with her chants. Not songs, mind you — chants. Old names, old deeds, the kind that weigh on the heart. She wears raven feathers and beads of bone carved with the heroes she honors.
Some say she’s too serious, too stiff, but her voice… it’s like stone rolling down the mountains. Even the children hush when she speaks. You’ll find no lies in her words, only the truth of what was. Ingolf Stonesong hates her for it, says she’s stealing his crowds — but between you and me, Midgard would sooner lose Ingolf’s flute than her morning call.”