Breaker Tribe

The Breaker Tribes, most spiteful of the Sons of Behemat, carry a grudge against the very idea of civilisation, and they settle it one shattered rampart at a time. To a Gatebreaker mega-gargant, every wall is a personal insult, every tower a dare, every proud city a thing grown too tall. They swing flails knotted from scavenged wreckage — ship's chains, gate-timbers, the melted bells of flattened temples — until nothing stands higher than a gargant's knee.

There is nothing hurried in a Breaker's rampage. Where other gargants smash and wander on, the Breakers linger, working through a fortress the way a wrecking crew works through a condemned hall — toppling what still stands, stamping flat what has fallen, deaf to the defenders beneath their heels. Whole cities have become rubble-fields in a single grim afternoon.

Where the hatred began, the Breakers do not say, being disinclined to explain themselves to anything they are about to step on. The smaller peoples tell the story for them: that in ages past these giants were the ones walled out and hunted, driven off by torch and volley-fire, until the gargant-mind decided walls themselves were the enemy. True or not, the Breakers keep no histories — only the grudge, settled wall by wall.