It was on the last day of our scouting mission that we found the Ogre band.  The scene that we stout and hardy rangers witnessed made our worst nightmares seem the mere stuff of a drunken beardling’s campfire stories—men of the Empire slaughtered indiscriminately, their mounts torn apart in scattered mounds of gore, and at the center of this grim circle, the Ogres feasted on the armored Knights.

At first we thought they were using the thick armor to better serve up the flesh of the fallen, cracking it open like shells to suck out the meat, but no . . . they were devouring the very steel itself!  I saw their leader, his hunger not sated by the feast, set upon one of his wounded fellows. He seemed to consider the monstrous screams of the other Ogre as an added flavor to complete his meal.

It was then, as we witnessed this gruesome scene that we were discovered and added to the Ogre menu. I would never have escaped were it not for the fact that the beasts were slowed by the high alcohol levels in my fellow rangers' blood. Thank Grungi for the Dwarf ale in our battle rations. Beware the relentless gluttony of the Ogre!

- Bandur Stoneshot, Ranger


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