Throg-ma was a salty old soul, a salty old soul indeed. The giant labored on his craggy isle away from the others of his clan, near the crumbly ruins where he kept his herd. One day he lost his sandals to the silt. Search as he may, here and there… they were not to be found. His feet cut on the unforgiving shards of his daily path. He cursed. Cursed the Sun, cursed the silt, cursed the very ground and rock he tread. In a fit of rage and desperation, he reached into the ruins and searched about in hopes of finding something he could fashion into shoes…

And something must have heard his troubles. A few large wooden planks were found… in which he lashed to his swollen soles with the hair from his very beard. After that, no matter how hard he tread or where, his sandals never seemed to wear. He did perish however, in a clash with Balician legionnaires. His shoes were sold to one Hurk, a half giant.

These sandals will never wear down, and can hit creatures only able to be affected by magical weapons with a kick or slap. They confer no added damage or hit bonus however. They will also resize to fit those of large to giant size.

And can still be disintegrated. So don’t be getting any ideas.

If ever contacted, you’ll only get an idiot’s words – much akin to, “Walkin an’ a walkin’, an’ a walkin’, an walkin’…” Repeated over & over & over…