The day was blissfully perfect, the spring breeze carried the scent of pristine water and newly bloomed wildflowers through the entire hamlet. The clouds that dances in the sky gave just enough shade over the land so that one could enjoy the sun without being burned and the very earth itself seemed to be jubilant. The people who lived here were well into the days normal chores, none could even help themselves from smiling as they worked. Sure life was a bit harder here than in the city, but they were happy. They were fed, they had their families and they felt safe here. The town was just off a road from the secondary travel roads, not too much traffic, and no real crime. Life here was perfect or as close to perfect as they could get.

 

It was in a tiny shack on the hill that the sound of the smith working could be heard. Constant and rhythmic it was almost something they timed their movements too.  He was their best kept secret and one of the reasons they were so happy. What was made in that little sack was some of, if not the, best metal working in the entire country. What he made paid for their property tax, kept the nobles out of their lands and allowed them a little more freedom with their time. The Smith even paid extra so that no one would know where the wares came from…so that he could continue his work without being bothered. His name? They called him Gore the Smith here…and he has been working here since, well before anyone could remember. The smith has simply been a fixture, simply thought of to be there until the end of time. This day he worked as he did any other…clang clang clang almost something one could keep time to….

 

…but it paused. The smithy hidden behind the walls of his forge strained to listen. Hoof beats upon the ground and not just one. A few dozen still a few miles off.

 

“Damn…”

 

Sigh the smile as he moved from his project to a Giant bell kept at the far end of the forge, his hammer struck it and the sound washed over the village. He was their early warning system, ears far too keen for one such as him.  The Villagers knew what to do, though they were alarmed…it has been years since he has chimed the bell, they moved quickly to their homes, hiding in their cellars and waiting for the chime to come that told them to leave.

 

On the wall he grabbed his sword, a giant black monstrosity that held no gleam no matter what light hit it, always sharp despite never being touched save for times like this.

 

What was coming? An orcish raiding party, sixteen warriors riding out to rape and pillage this town for all it was worth as they had done so many times before, but they didn’t know about the smith…how could one stand against so many?

 

He moved using the tree lines to hide his form, long strides taking him quickly to meet those orcs a few miles outside of town rather than letting the fight happen near the homes of the people he cared dearly for. Out of the shadows of the trees the ogre emerged to stand in the middle of the road, His hulking form easily taking up most of it. He stood nine feet tall, skin the color of moss and limbs the size of ancient tree trunks. His sword, that lusterless black piece of steel was more than seven feet long and four feet wide and was carried as though it weighed nothing to him.

 

His face was set, intense but not angry. This was simply the way of things out here, he hated it…but if he didn’t someone else would have to stand in his place. He couldn’t make the world a better place…but at least he could make a small Eden in the chaos.

 

The orcs were running full tiled down the trail when they saw the ogre standing there arms crossed over his chest and the tip of his sword buried in the packed dirt. It wasn’t at a place they could just go around. The forest was too thick, the horses wouldn’t be able to move through the foliage.

 

“ HEY YOU! MOVE IT! OR WE KILL YA!”

 

The orc that spoke was of course larger than the ones behind him, most tribes were ‘might made right’ and the largest ruled. The ogre’s hand slowly moved to the hilt of his sword. He smiled a bit, he hated the violence but still he smiled. It was from days long ago where he was a much different creature.  It was something he couldn’t shake…he hated that he loved violence so much.

 

Bodies lay strewn about the road now…blood pooling in dents of the not so well traveled road. Alone the ogre stood, covered in the gore of the fallen orcs, a fury just starting to die down in his emerald eyes. He left the horses alive, it would go to help the village a great deal. This was his gift…violence. His true talent was this carnage that would make most turn away and vomit. He protected those people so they never have to see this…so they never have to watch those they love die in combat. The next few hours would be cleaning up this mess, burning the bodies and taking what he could use in the forge before he went back to ring the bell and let the stable hands known there are a few new horses to take care of.

No one knew of the battle, ignorance is bliss in that department. The people who lived here knew that the smithy kept them safe, their own guardian ogre and that is all they cared about.

 

 

 

Name: Gore

Race: Ogre

Age: 2437

Skills: Black Smith, Herbal healing, combat(melee)

Height: 9'0”

Weight: 900lbs

Marks: A tattoo of two swords above a rose and thorns (left arm)

tattoo of Elvish symbol for peace (right arm)

 

 

 Story Ideas:

Legends of a long lost hero that could still be alive surface, your character is sent out to seek the legend for some sort of help.

My character is looking for another small town to settle down in and that is where your character lives. 

My character and your character meet when trying to stop the same event from happening. 

 

Modern:

The ogre, able to hide among the humans, works as a mechanic in the city for cars and motor cycles. Your character finds out about his hidden race due to him having to get involved in something. 

The Ogre has found new life as a bouncer and you work at the club he works at.

 

The ogre in his Human form for modern play:

 

 

 

OOC:

Pm friendly

Fantasy or modern fantasy(Just ask)

No Minor characters (under 18)

If you have an idea, or just want to chat...whisper.