Son, these kinds of stories are never easy.
Don't let the outside world change your heart. There are good people, there are bad people.
You decide which are worthy of protecting, and who will be thrown to the wolves.

You'll make a fantastic leader, I guarantee it.

DOSSIER: ORYK OU'DAREN.
AGE, 39. HEIGHT, 7'9''. WEIGHT, 301.
ETHNICITY, ANCIENT CHINESE NOMAD.
HAIR COLOR, WHITE.
SPECIES, GIANT // TITAN.
LANGUAGES SPOKEN: MULTI-LINGUAL.
THREAT LEVEL: DEMON - PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Oryk was born on a summer evening. He remembers nothing of that day, as can be expected, and his father never told stories of the day of his birth. Where he might've been born, who assisted with the delivery - he was kept in the dark. He accepted this fact. That day was for his father and mother to share alone. Growing up was not difficult for Oryk, but it was taxing. He was to learn everything his father had learned in his entire life in under sixteen years. And, when those sixteen years were up, he would begin to ensure the safety of his tribe through speech over violence.

Speech over violence. "If you learn to use your jaw to talk, your fists might not need to break one."

That ideal, that teaching, was difficult for Oryk. His body grew and grew, and it became all the easier to intimidate, beat, fight - he could have his way by instead of raising a question, raising a fist in its stead. But that roguish nature did not last long. Soon after, his father met his end, killed by outside conflict in a war he attempted to prevent. Oryk was filled with unbroiled rage; unrelenting anger. Yet, he could feel the spirit of his father patting his back, and easing his own spirit, guiding him now, even after death. Guiding the son that went astray.

Now he had to lead. He needed to grow out of the habits he'd collected, and become firm. Just. But kind, gentle. His father always told him, we are not the hammer and gavel, we are sword and shield. We lead these people, not out of betterment or to sustain our lifestyle, but out of love and creed; familial ties that burn through blood. You are their shield to protect them from the dragon's breath. You are the tongue to ease the dragon's heart. And, if necessary, you are the blade to cut it out.

So Oryk took up the mantle, resetting his mind and body to follow his father's footsteps. Revenge was a fool's game. Both he and his father, now, knew it.

The only thing he can do now is to wait. Hope. Protect. Love.
ENDURE the turmoil that the outside world causes him, day after day.
As his father had. As he now will; flayed, scarred, to keep their lands safe. To keep his people safe. To protect her - protect Shangri-La.

SUBJECT YOURSELF TO PRIMAL DESIRES; SEEK TO SATE THE HEAT THAT FILLS YOUR CORE, RELENTLESSLY.

SHAFT - 11-???in (depending on preference). Veiny. Uncut. Shaved/Trimmed regularly.
Preferred position - top. Missionary, cowgirl, tabletop, standing.

Practically limitless, aside from some bathroom kinks, death, and other uncommon things. Just ask, and we can clarify.