A wandering and ever-dwindling people, the Hyperboreans are tragic and undeserving of their squalor. They were once the mightiest humans to walk and prosper at the Northern rim of the Earth, now reduced to impoverished strangers in a strange land. Their home—Hyperborea, with its underground roads and cities carved into everlasting ice-masonry—has been lost to the desolation of the Pale Death; tread over by its bitter blizzards and callous hordes of undead, the Pale-Walkers.
From The Far North
Thousands of years ago, under the reign of the Pale Death and its endless ice sheets, the Hyperboreans shared their boreal realm with the ancestors of the Thulean tribesfolk. But while the latter roamed the snowy barrens of the surface, the Hyperborean giants—each of a bear's strength and a human's ingenuity—had mastered the masonry of ice and stone. With such forgone talent, the Hyperboreans of yore carved entire pathways and settlements of moderate warmth beneath the glacial or mountainous surface. Here, they coexisted within a fairly homogeneous society without threat of foreign attack.
While that seemed to be grounds for utopia, it was far from it. Competition over food was the fiercest, and problems of scarcity would provoke infighting to "cull the herd." If not for their spartan adaptations against freezing and starvation, perhaps the Hyperborean people would have perished by their own hand. All out civil wars were rare but not unheard of. Most settlements strove to avoid them except as a last resort. Trials of combat were commonly used by Hyperboreans as a means to settle disputes, and this eventually evolved into the popular sporting of duels or pit-fighting. These "pastimes" are some of the last remnants of Hyperborean culture still held onto by its hardy survivors.
Before exile drove them into destitution and they could no longer afford to be finicky, the Hyperboreans were once replete with carnivorous hunter-warriors. From a young age, each hunter would venture out onto the surface or off the frigid coasts, learning to prospect for flesh-meat that hadn't yet been picked off by a leopard seal or polar bear. Whales were the jewels of the North; their blubber to heat fires, their hides and ivory for tools and structures, their flesh to fill stomachs for many months. They knew how to build boats and hunt them.
Every day brought new challenges to Hyperborean hunters. A single mistake could have brought doom to an entire hunting party, while each member's best effort could ensure the group's survival. Their understanding of this dynamic manifests most strongly when Hyperboreans interact with other peoples. In cities across Thule, the distinction between plebeians and patricians is puzzling to them. If a monarch lacks the intelligence or leadership to lead, then clearly the most talented citizen in that regard should take their place. And in that case, power should not be relegated to a single monarch but a body of leaders representing each essential part of society (hunter-warriors, ice-masons, craftsmen, caretakers, priests, and so on; of these, only the hunter-warriors have mostly survived). Whether or not Hyperboreans keep such opinions to themselves, their minds mock folk who rely on rigid, hierarchical structures or rules to maintain power.
Calamity And Exodus
When the recession of the Pale Death beckoned a southward migration of the early Thuleans to warmer lands, the Hyperboreans stayed behind in their cities beneath the ice. However, the Hyperborean peoples failed to foresee the return of the Pale Death, and with this calamitous weather-spirit came the armies of the undead.
To defeat any notion of cowardice, many Hyperboreans stayed behind, putting up a stalwart defense worthy of skaldic telling. But just like Death personified, the Pale-Walkers were too relentless and too endless. Riding blizzards with blind fury, they razed through the Hyperborean cities and slaughtered their people. Only a few survived the cold apocalypse, making their way across the seas to Hellumar and Nimoth, and then Thule.
Lost and of little number, the Hyperborean exiles must live among the small-folk, offering them their strengths and services in exchange for bare resources and society's tolerance. Much of their old history is lost, parts of their culture along with it, gone with the wintry winds. Still, contemporary Hyperboreans are as persistent in harsh conditions as their forebears, if not more; giving up is never an option for their kind.
Appearances
The Hyperborean ancestry of humans is very ancient, and is said to have Cyclopean blood, although that is presumptive of their utter lack of pigmentation (white to black hair, bluish pale to grey skin) and enormous builds, averaging at seven feet tall. As both newcomers in Thule and the last survivors of their kind, sightings of a Hyperborean can be rare and sure to draw some attention. They can even be mistaken for Cyclopeans, by those who know no difference between them and the more man-eating, extremely-built kind of giant.
Hyperboreans stand out with distinctive tattoos, sometimes even on their faces. They are used to describe their identities and to tally their life achievements for others of kin. Otherwise, their fashion reflects the cultures and peoples of Thule they each have come into contact with the most. Since many Hyperboreans find themselves around the bottom rungs of society, lavish dress may be out of their reach. Instead, what spectacle they can muster is no more intimidating than natural physique.
Traits
Age.
You reach adulthood in your mid-to-late teens. If the perils of adventure don't take you first, you may live for at most fifty years.
Size.
The average height of your people is 7 ft., and you can grow no taller than 8 ft.
Mighty Grey Giant. Whenever we stand up for ourselves, the base instinct of the oppressor is to cower behind their tiny pride and out us as different than their kind. Had we not faced whales and mammoths in Hyperborea? Did we ever say they were too massive and could not be challenged? Nay, or you and I would not be here, able to say anything; we would be dead from starvation. So stay humble and careful, and know that our height is but a vista for better judgment, with which you may pick out the goats from the lambs, or the wolves from the sheep.
You have advantage on all Strength and Constitution contests against Medium and smaller-sized creatures.
In addition, you may have disadvantage on Stealth (Dex) checks that factor in your appearance, at the GM's discretion.
Severe Endurance. The hardship—the coldness and scarcity that these southerners have long forgotten—still boils our blood, warming us in the freeze, staving off the weakness in starvation so that we may keep going forward.
You are resistant to cold damage and have advantage on all Luck saves against extremely cold weather. In addition, you only need to consume 1 ration of food (or equivalent) for every 8 hours of travel (instead of 4 hours).
Languages. Lost and separated we may be in presence, but our language in one of the few things that still keep us together at heart. Remember not just our carved symbols for words, but also our body signals and whistles that can pierce through the boreal winds and vast distances laid between us.
You speak Hyperborean, and one other language of your choice.