Firbolg Druid

This towering guardian of the wild looks like she could gently heal a wounded deer… and then calmly cause an avalanche if you disrespect a sapling. Broad-shouldered and powerfully built, her fur and skin carry soft earth tones streaked with natural markings that resemble winding vines and ancient runes shaped by bark and moss.

Her long hair falls in thick braids over her shoulders, woven with feathers, beads, herbs, and tiny wooden charms that clink softly when she moves. A crown of small antlers, twigs, or flowering branches rests in her hair — less decoration, more “nature approved this look.”

She wears layered druidic robes made from woven plant fibers, mossy cloth, and carefully stitched leaves, draped in a way that’s practical for travel but still carries a quiet, ceremonial grace. A belt of pouches holds seeds, crystals, carved totems, and definitely at least one rock she thinks is “neat.”

In one hand she holds a tall, living staff grown from a young tree, its top forked and sprouting fresh leaves mid-sculpt. The other hand is extended outward, palm open, as vines coil gently around her wrist and a small swirl of leaves or glowing spores gathers — a spell forming as naturally as breathing.

A woodland animal rests comfortably at her feet or shoulder, utterly at ease. Birds don’t startle when she passes. Flowers lean toward her. The wind might actually wait its turn.

Her expression is calm, wise, and deeply patient — the look of someone who prefers peace, but has absolutely turned a logging camp into a cautionary tale before.