What would happen if an intelligent greatsword inhabited by an ancient paladin's LG spirit was found by a mean-spirited ogre, and the sword kept making telepathic LG suggestions which the ogre dim-wittedly obeyed...

What would happen if an intelligent greatsword inhabited by an ancient paladin's LG spirit was found by a mean-spirited ogre, and the sword kept making telepathic LG suggestions which the ogre dim-wittedly obeyed...

...and after a while the ancient paladin spirit was basically controlling the ogre -- do we now have a possessed LG ogre-paladin symbiote? Because that sounds like one hell of an NPC!

Does the paladin's spirit relentlessly drive the ogre to spend a sweat-soaked week toiling away, building a crude forge in some remote cave, then another week spent forging a shield and some large, chunky plates of mail? Does he slowly cover himself in piecemeal homemade armour? Does he seek out a steed of some kind? Does he fashion for himself a helmet from a barrel with the face cut out?

Does he go off to right wrongs and save bitches in need?

I am Garg. I am strong. I am strong because I am Ogre. No-one in the forest is stronger than me. When I was young, the old Ogres make the rules, hit me when I don't follow. Now I am older. I make rules. I go where I want. I eat what I want. I take what I want.

One day, I find something I want. Pretty pink-skin sharpclub. Bright stones on short round end, and long sharp end shimmers like pond water. I want, so I take. Little hard-shelled pink-skins have come to my forest with sharpclubs before, long time ago. They smarter than others. They know that they can't hit stronger, so they need to hit better. I am going to use pretty sharpclub to hit stronger AND better. I am looking forward to using sharpclub to hit.

I am not expecting sharpclub to hit me.

Sharpclub is alive. Sharpclub is angry. It does not want what I want, and so it hits me. I have been hit before. I am strong so I can take hits. But it hits my mind, and I do not know how to hit back. For the first time in long, long time... I submit. Sharpclub is strong. Sharpclub makes rules now.

Sharpclub tells me what to do. Sharpclub makes me stop fighting others in forest. Makes me give up land. I do not want to, but Sharpclub makes rules now. I am not strong now. Eventually, Sharpclub stops being angry at me and starts being curious.

Sharpclub tells me her name. She is Moonslicer, made by pink-skin shamans for pink-skin warriors. I understand this. She was made to kill pink-skin enemies. But I am pink-skin enemy. She does not kill me. I do not understand this.

One day, while eating dinner, I ask Moonslicer. "Why do you not kill me?"

"I don't understand your question," Moonslicer replies.

"You are pink-skin sharpclub,"

"Greatsword," Moonslicer interrupts.

"and you are made to fight pink-skin enemies."

"I was made to destroy evil," Moonslicer answers. She always talks in strange riddles. I have become used to this.

"Yes, evil. I know this word. It means pink-skin enemy. I am pink-skin enemy. I am evil. Why do you not destroy me?"

Moonslicer does not answer for long time.

"You are... "pink-skin enemy", yes. And most people would say you are evil... but I am not sure. I expected you to fight me, but you didn't. I expected you to resist when I told you to stop bullying the other creatures of the forest, but you didn't."

"Moonslicer is stronger than Garg, so Moonslicer makes rules."

"All the same... I think there might be some good in you, somewhere."

"...what is Good?" I ask.

"Good is..." Moonslicer stops talking. I can feel she is confused. "Good is... how to describe it? It is..." She stops again. She is quiet for a long time. "You know, I believe the best way to explain it is to show you. Go to sleep Garg. Tomorrow, we will start doing Good."

Next day, Moonslicer leads me to pink-skin home, in the middle of fields. No pink-skins there right now. She shows me broken walls. Tells me to take stones and fix walls. Then we leave. I do not understand.

"Why do we fix walls?" I ask.

"Those walls protect the humans from harm," Moonslicer says. "They have been torn down by raiders over the years. By repairing the walls, you have made the humans more safe. More strong."

"Why do I make them safe?" I ask. "I am pink-skin enemy. I do not want them to be strong."

"Patience, Garg," Moonslicer says. "Have patience and faith. You will understand eventually."

I do not believe her, but I say nothing. This does not make sense. This is pink-skin strangeness.

For the next two seasons, Moonslicer keeps sending me out to pink-skin lands. Fixing walls. Catching cows and taking them back to paddocks without eating them. Sometimes she makes me scare humans on roads. Sometimes she makes me hide from humans on roads. She calls the ones I scare "bandits" and the ones I hide from "merchants". I do not understand the difference.

"The merchants are weaker humans," Moonslicer says. "The bandits are stronger, and want to take from the merchants. You are driving them away from the roads so that they do not take from the merchants anymore."

"This makes sense" I say. "They are stronger, they take what they want. But why do you make me scare them so they cannot?"

"Because it is not good for the strong to take what they want from the weak."

"This Good does not make sense. I will never understand"

"You will understand" Moonslicer says. "Have faith."

For many more seasons, Moonslicer makes me do many things I do not understand. Eventually pink-skins... humans... start to see me. At first they are afraid. I understand this. But they slowly become less afraid. They no longer run when they see me. I do not understand this. I dig long ditches from the river to their farms. I build walls along their roads. I bring large sacks of food to their towns and leave them there.

One season, there is a great storm. Moonslicer wakes me during the night, urges me to leave the cave and go to the human lands. There is a town I have been near many times before. The river that flows through the village is flooding. The humans are splashing, shouting, drowning. They are scared. Moonslicer sends me through the flood to their homes. I lift humans from the water and put them at the top of the homes. I do this again, and again. I am tired, but Moonslicer pushes me on. I save more humans, I wade through the water that is up to my chest. I save the male humans, the female humans, the young humans, the old humans. I save all of them. When the dawn comes and the water goes down, I am more tired than I have ever been. I sink to my knees. I know the humans will kill me while I am asleep but I am too tired to get away. I fall asleep.

I wake up. I am not wet, cold or tired. I am warm, dry, resting on something soft and comfortable. I recognize it as a human barn - I have brought escaped horses to these before. I am covered in many skins. I am lying in dried grass - the humans call it hay.

A male human comes in. He sees I am awake. He does not run or look scared. Instead he smiles. He brings a large bundle up to me. The bundle has meat in it. Good, cooked meat. Better than I've ever tasted. I watch him carefully, but I am hungry and I concentrate on eating. Once I am done, he takes the bones and the bundle away.

The day goes by, and many humans come to the barn. Some hide by the door and only stare at me. Others come in. I recognize many of them as the humans I saved last night. I am still tired, so I lie in the barn. I feel... I do not know how to describe it. The humans do not threaten me, but not because I am stronger. Finally, in the evening, many humans come to the barn. They bring Moonslicer with them.

"I have been negotiating with the humans on your behalf," she says. "They are going to give you this barn to live in as a new home. They will give you food, while you keep the roads safe from bandits and help them tend their flocks and fix their buildings. I will stay with you to guide you."

I am quiet for a long time.

"I do not understand." I say. "If I was strong, and I came to take these things, they would not give them to me. They would run, or fight."

"But you didn't come to take them," Moonslicer replied. "And that is what makes the difference. You have made the humans' homes safe. You have protected their merchants. You have rescued their animals. And now you have saved their lives. And because you gave and gave and did not take, they now want to give to you, freely. And as long as you do not wish to take, you will receive. By serving them, you are now more free than you ever were in the forest. Not because you are strong. But because you are a friend. They are your strength now, and you are theirs. This is what Good is."

And I understand.

Garg scored a critical hit on my heart

Holy shit. This is gonna become a fable in my game. Players will find children's books talking about Garg and Moonslicer.

Next book: Garg and the Investment Bankers.

Haha, I remember drawing that a few years ago. Glad to see people still refer to it.

She calls the ones I scare "bandits" and the ones I hide from "merchants". I do not understand the difference.

We pinkskins can't always either.

Thank you for that wonderful idea that i totally came up with

I love you. The build-up had a certain "greatsword for Algernon" vibe, if you know what I mean.

Well, you've won monday!


I started tearing up, despite myself. Damn that Garg and his beautiful soul.

I had to check to make sure I wasn't in /sub/writingprompts

Bravo, I thoroughly enjoyed this story.

"I do not understand repackaged toxic mortgage loan assets, Sharpclub. What do I do?"

"Run. This evil is beyond our power."

The PCs see the ogre on the road. The ogre attempts to make friends, but the PCs aren't falling for that trick. Combat ensues, and they win! Of course the party paladin picks up the treasure drop.

As he admires his new find, a psionic voice speaks gently to him.

"You fools. You have no idea what you've done." And then the sword weeps.

There was a monster in that forest that day.

And it was us...


I'm an idiot. Well played. Have some gold.

You're kidding me, you actually made that originally?

Evil's day will be...ogre.

Now this is a good NPC, or a PC even. Give it a bunch of level ups and you can use Glarg to keep your murderhobos in line while they're in town.

Ogres are like onions?

I did too. This is some seriously well written stuff. I want to roll a paladin now.

Sequel: Garg and Moonslicer on the run from the IRS

OMG props on "greatsword for Algernon"

That's was so well written. Hearing the story from Gargs perspective was beautiful. I wish I could give you gold. Also I teared up a little and I'm in class so I'm getting some weird looks. I need a Moonslicer...

Same here brother. Same here.

You mean an Ogre Paladin?

Aaaand Im ready to read a 9 book series about Moonslicer's ogre.

One of my favorite encounters that I didn't really plan, but just sort of happened . . .

A paladin in the game happened to worship a very minor deity. His bishop had disappeared and he decided to go looking for him (my plan was that the bishop would come find him after he gained a few more levels, but I let my players do what they want if I can so . . .). The paladin was wondering in the forest near a stream at the base of a mountain, and he saw this small creature, about 3' high, hiding in the shadows of the rock face, it sees him and disappears behind the rocks. He could swear it looked like a goblin, but smaller. He's quick to realize it is a kobold.

Now, this particular player was a very "by the book" type guy, so he immediately decides they must be evil, without doing anything to check this assumption, goes back to town, rounds up his party, and they go find the cave. They do so easily, enter the cave and proceed to slaughter hundreds of kobolds (the part is about level 10, so this was easy killing).

At the back end of the cave they find an altar to the paladin's God, and a few kobolds dressed up in priestly robes. The bishop had found a ring that let him speak to kobolds and goblins and had been out converting.

Needless to say, mr. Paladin's diety wasn't too happy with him for a very, very long time. And one of my players stopped assuming that his DM wouldn't alter things from the books now and again . . .

TL;DR: Garg becomes a full-blown Paladin.

Who's cutting those damn onions?

Garg is love. Garg is life.

This thread has been linked to from elsewhere on reddit.

[/sub/bestof] Someone wonders what would happen if an Ogre found a Paladin sword. This user tells us.

[/sub/gameclassy] Amazing Story about An Ogre and a Paladin's Sword

[/sub/fantasy] Writer responds to r/DnD question: What would happen if an ogre found an intelligent, telepathic,...

[/sub/wow] Thought this belonged here

[/sub/frisson] [Text] Reddit comment story about an Ogre finding a Paladin's sword.

[/sub/gametales] Garg Finds a Pretty Pink-Skin Sharpclub

[/sub/threadkillers] What would happen if an intelligent greatsword inhabited by an ancient paladin's LG spirit was fo...

[/sub/hfy] [text]What would happen if an intelligent greatsword inhabited by an ancient paladin's spirit was...

[/sub/honorroll] 2014-11-17 wanderingbishop comments on What would happen if an intelligent greatsword inhabited b...

[/sub/dlhcomputernerds] Xposted from /sub/bestof, someone wonders what would happen if an Ogre found a Paladin sword. Thi...

[/sub/aberoth] Thought I'd share this since most of you probably haven't seen it.

[/sub/fantasy] "I am Garg. I am Strong." Very short, very awesome post by /u/wanderingbishop.

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That starts a whole side quest where the PC paladin must make atonement for killing the ogre paladin.

Yeah, and then the reader gets to see their own heart ripped out and stomped on.

"Bogrog smash tiny oo-man!"

"NO! No, Bogrog. Don't smash him. That would be wrong."

"But Bogrog want smash." The ogre looked longingly at the poor man cowering beneath him. Bogrog's new metal pokey stick never let him have any fun.

"All sentient things in this world have a right to live without being smashed for the amusement of others."

"What send-tent?"

"Sen-ti-ent. It means able to feel, perceive and understand the world," though Sir Vanquish was beginning to think Bogrog's complete disregard for others may mean he no longer fitted that definition.

While Bogrog had been preoccupied apparently arguing with his own weapon, the man had begun backing away slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements. It would not do for him, a Red Wizard of Thay, to be done in so easily by a single ogre when he had personally overseen demon summoning that had shook the foundations of cities. No matter how much magic he commanded, casting still required time, concentration and the absence of 14 foot ogres that could turn him into a pancake before he could utter a single word.

"Listen," Vanquish began, with the air of one trying to explain to a child that biting the other kids was wrong, "you are not the only person in the world, and it would not be nice if some big mean person were to try and smash you for no good reason. You should therefore be kinder to those smaller than you, and think of what it would be like if you were them."

Now sitting, completely having lost interest in the man, Bogrog engaged his pointy metal stick in debate. "But oo-mans always try smash ogres. Ad-ventars always come saying they want smite evil. Why Bogrog not smash back?"

"There are things that should be smashed and things that shouldn't. In the name of good, it is right to smash evil. Many ogres are evil, but that doesn't mean you have to be. You have a chance to be good. And good should not smash good."

"Bogrog just want smash. Bogrog no care bout good evil."

"Then perhaps we should find-"

At this point it became apparent that the human Bogrog had so much wanted to smash had taken advantage of his preoccupation by drawing a summoning circle in the dirt, spread some ashes and chanting some words that Bogrog, with his limited grasp of the common tongue, had no chance in translating from the Infernal language of the abyss.

A crash of thunder, and an eerie red light emanated from the newly created portal, as a horned figure crawled from it.

A moment of awkward silence passed before Bogrog inquired, "Smash?"

A sigh came from the pointy metal stick, "Yes Bogrog. Smash."

And that my friends, is a Paladin. Amazing story. Now, I just want more.

Oh, I love this idea! 3rd in the trilogy: Garg and Moonslicer Right the Wrongs Moonslicer identifies certain pinkskins whose death by his hand bring justice to the rest. Garg learns there is a time for peace and a time for righteous, bloody vengeance.

Yep, completely intentional. I went by the logic that while Ogres are less intelligent than humans and other smaller humanoids, a lot of the unintelligence is just lack of education.

you know, she's actually pretty cute.

I really liked the subtle change from "pink-skin" to "human" as he begins learning about Good. You gave the impression that even he was not aware of this at first. I don't know if this was intended, but either way this is is a masterfully written piece.

It sure is raining hard today.

Flowers for Algernon is a famous story written in a style similar to the OP. Word substitution makes this story Greatsword for Algernon.

She weeps. Moonslicer becomes tainted by hatred. The party that took her as loot is turned evil. At first, she leads them to do evil, in the hopes that some good force will intervene and punish them. But they always prevailed in their evil endeavors. Seeing evil come out on top so many times, and at her own command, she becomes evil, turning the paladin that wields her, the same paladin that slew Glarg, evil as well. Many seasons later, the now anti-paladin and moonslicer find themselves on a road near the town where Glarg lived. A man walking down the road stops in his tracks at the site of the party, at the sight of the anti-paladin and his sword. The man drew steel, it was the same sword the paladin left behind in the barn in favor of his new, shiny living blade. The two clashed and the nameless man fell. As the party was about to carry on, Moonslicer commanded them to halt, saying she heard a voice call out to her. The voice came from the sword of the slain man. That day when Glarg fell, his soul bound to the abandoned sword the paladin left behind. "Sharpclub, this is not what Good is". And so they wept.

I told you that concept was a good one for a comic.

That is really brilliant and touching storytelling. I'm sort of embarrassed by how moving I found that. Thanks for sharing.

Easy 4-step process

click comment's "permalink" copy URL post link to /sub/bestof make bacon pancakes to celebrate

I am not crying! There is something in my eye I swear!

Also quite fun when she's not in-character :P

Still absolutely terrifying when she does the OAG smile though.

This is where the sword basically beats the party into submission and makes them to go on a quest to raise the dead ogre.

Unintentional evil can be atoned for.

Natter Fie stood at a safe distance and watched the towering figure using a broken rusty breastplate as a shovel and could not understand. Twice they had run adventurers off for fear they'd see the brute and that would end this strange altruism. Natter wasn't too sure it'd end well for the adventurers the way the ogre wore that greatsword in his makeshift belt. What did he call himself again? Garg? Hard to believe this ogre took it upon himself to dig a four hundred yard trench from the river through rock-strewn land without understanding what he was doing. Why was he doing all this back-breaking labor to benefit their farm?

Consternation and confusion both shared Natter's face but he wasn't about to stop Garg. He had left a barrel of fresh water twenty yards from Garg who hadn't even looked up from his muddy work when the horse reared and bucked in fear. He did hear the ogre muttering to himself like he was talking to someone but Natter had just chalked that up to whatever was... different about Garg. Natter eventually got tired of watching Garg and turned his attention back to his land although he couldn't help but spare a cautious glance every now and then.

Mart Sweener stood dumbfounded as the ogre drove two head of cattle over the ridge and down towards his pens. It was all he could do to not stand mouth agape and trip over his own two feet as he owned the pen gate and let the two cows in. He had searched for those cows all day deep in the valley outside of town where he was sure they were but didn't turn up hide nor hair. He'd considered that the ogre might have carried them off for dinner as some implied payment for the work he'd done around town. But here he was, big as life and twice as scary standing naught but 10 feet away and just as tall.

"Thanks?" Mart said loudly, not sure if the ogre understood.

Garg glanced down at his sword, then broke out in a toothy grin as he lifted his hand to wave and turn back to the ridge he'd come over. Mart didn't know what to do, but he called out "Hey! Wait a minute!" not sure if Garg would understand as he raced back to the barn and brought out a red oversized horse blanket. The ogre was still waiting there, his face hard to read emotion on. Mart held out the folded up blanket.

"For you, uh, thanks again." Mart said slowly.

The ogre reached out slowly and took the blanket, nodding. A look of genuine excitement spread over his brutish features. He swung the blanket over his huge shoulders and Mart realized perhaps he didn't have a blanket big enough for Garg. He watched Garg ponderously tie a knot in two ends around his neck and then comically turn around attempting to look at the now cloak on his giant back (not that Mart would have dared laugh). The ogre gave him a half-wave and turned up the hill toward the ridge. Mart watched him go until Garg's big head bobbed down on the other side of the ridge.

To further, the gist of the story is about a mentally slow individual getting smarter. The reader gets to see improvements in his speech and cognitive thinking skills.

Someone that knows how needs to /sub/bestof this shit.

Yea... I failed my "hold back the floodgates" check

oh, the slaughter...

Me too.

Yeah, that reminds me of the books in Morrowind, especially the skill books. Those were always an excellent read.

So, Shrek?

I do play with these expectations from time to time, but one thing I'm careful to do is to always let the players know what their characters would know. If in a given world, demi-humans like Drow, Orcs, Kobolds, etc. aren't automatically Evil-with-a-capital-E, then their characters would know that, and the players have in-game reason to stop themselves from just murder-hoboing through the forest of peaceful creatures.

Now, some players will do that anyway, so when I punish them by locking their "murderous" characters up or having a god disown them, I can "back it up" by reminding them of what I'd told them their characters knew. I'm not just springing it on them out of the blue, essentially. (This is true in my campaign as no dragon color is inherently good or evil, so they are much more wary when encountering any of them)

Now, it's also fun to play with this by having the unexpected instance of a normally evil creature being suddenly good. There, wholesale slaughter of the "kill first, sell loot, rest off the wounds, and possibly ask questions many years later" variety is reasonable, so a party just patient enough to hold off on it to realize the switcheroo in place will feel doubly rewarded by the twist :)

So you finally went around to giving away all those comic concepts I gave you huh?


Lie down.

Try not to cry.

Cry a flood.

Ogre come and save me.

I grateful.

Instructions unclear, now have zombie ogre and furious disembodied Paladin.

Cue another legend about the weeping sword

Up vote for outstanding shrek reference. 10/10.

Reminds me of an issue my players had a few weeks ago. Due to a miscommunication and a bit of prejudice, my chaotic neutral PC's slaughtered a group of elderly druids.

They mistakenly believed that the druids were behind the disappearances of children in the woods and took their evasiveness as guilt, however they were actually just senile and sent away from people to live out their last days in peace.

The look my players gave me after they looted the letters and mementos they carried on them to remind themselves of who they were was simply heart breaking...

I see someone's read my book.

Reference this post in the game.

An old legend, by a wandering bishop...

I heard it in Gilbert Gottfried's voice

Me, my approach has always been more "making a sadfic is easy. Making a hopeful sadfic though?... well, there's a reason Schindler's List is on every "Top 100 Movies to Watch Before You Die" list."


lost in the dungeons of love?

Were you

I want to roll a hyper-intelligent sword now.

lol, oh my god, my sides :))


Oh yeah - the book I inspired you to write, eh?

This makes me really want to see an Ogre Paladin....

He seemed to speak a little more intelligently toward the end as well...

As your mentor, I am glad you finally inspired someone to do something.

Loved it!

Stay tuned for scenes from next week's episode!

Bogrog and Vanquish punish a Balrog

Bogrog uses Vanquish to spread mustard on a piece of bread while Vanquish loudly protests

Bacon pancakes are overrated. Each time I had them, I found that you can't really taste the bacon that well, and it loses its crispiness. So I'll have my bacon on the side.

I made that gold. I'm glad people are still using it. I was so proud when Reddit took my idea of worthless digital currency and put it to good use.

Good I'm not the only one

Wow, this brings me back.

I once created a pair of NPCs for a MUD I staffed. An ogre and a human female that ran a gift shop.

Their unlikely story wasn't made obvious, and they had a hidden little "quest" where players could find out their back story. The woman had a locket with a ruby bauble inside. It was hidden in her locked room in a locked chest, meaning only thieves would come across it. When it was eventually stolen, it cued a script where she would randomly - and very rarely - complain about the stolen locket to her ogre friend.

If a player overheard this and asked her about the locket, she would enlist their aid in finding it, and eventually tell them their whole story.

In the game lore, there were two kingdoms to the far, far north. One was a good kingdom, and one was not-so-much. They had a war and the evil kingdom won out easily thanks to the help of large mercenary armies of orcs and ogres. As a part of their fee, the ogres demanded one of the surviving members of the royal family - as a feast for the chieftain of their tribe (the whole absorb the power of your enemies by eating them sorta idea).

This survivor ended up being the then very young princess. A small band of ogre warriors took the captive and began the long trek back to their home (basically a bunch of caves with a giant offal pit that housed the chieftain's pet otyugh). This small band was attacked en route by a a troop from the orcish mercenary company that felt slighted by not being given such a prize. A fierce battle erupted, and all the ogres were slain in the ambush except for one.

This remaining ogre could have fled and left the princess there, in fact, this is what would have been logical. He would have been beat severely, but the orcs were sure to kill him if they could. However, out of some dumb sense of honor that his mother always made fun of him for, he defeated the remaining orcs and was pretty badly wounded in the process.

He began to head back home with the princess, but fell sick to his injuries. During the commotion, the cage that held the princess had become very damaged and as the ogre rested she was able to slip out.

Instead of running off into the wilderness (where she would have surely been killed anyway), she tended to the ogre's wounds and gave him water. When the ogre was able to awaken, he reacted angrily, threatening to eat the girl and demanded she get back in her cage and stay there. He still had to deliver her after all. However, he got curious. He asked the princess why she helped him recover instead of doing the smart thing and killing him for his "stuff". She explained that he fought very "bravely", and that he "rescued" her and was "heroic". The ogre thought she was trying to trick him, the chieftain always warned that weaker, smaller beings tend to do so. The words she used reminded him of his mother and older brothers, who always made fun of him for doing exactly as he's told - without so much as a smack to the head. His eldest brother in particular used to wail on him and call him names like "elf kisser".

After a few more days of hiking and listening, the ogre started to grow resentful. After all that fighting, he realized that he was strong, much stronger than the other warriors and stronger than his brothers - perhaps even stronger than the chieftain. What would his reward be when he got back? Would he be given so much as a single pinky finger to nibble on? Never. At best, he could hope for some new hides to wear.

So, he started off in another direction. He didn't know where he was going, but he decided that he earned it, and he was going to find his own spot and eat the girl for himself. He told her how lucky she was, because he'd kill her first. A mercy lost on humans, but this would have been considered outlandish by ogre standards.

As they trekked on, the princess convinced her captor to let her come out of the cage (which she was already doing when he slept anyway) and let her walk along instead of the ogre having to hoist the heavy and useless cage. The ogre made sure to remind her that she would get torn apart by beasts if she escaped, which was not an exaggeration, as was made evident the next night.

They were set upon by a pack of wargs that had made their trail from the earlier scene of carnage at the ambush site. The ogre's first inclination was to throw the girl to them as a distraction and try and crush the pack leader. He thought better of it though, the princess was his meal - not the chieftain's and definitely not some overgrown wolves.

For the second time he saved her life, putting his own at risk in the process. This turn of events created quite a personal dilemma for the ogre, who wasn't really sure what he was doing any longer. Not having any brighter ideas, he continued his aimless trek. At least they now had plenty of meat to eat.

For many months they continued on like this, wandering from one place to the next, from one trouble into another.

Finally, they were encountered by a ranger patrol from a large, particularly pious southern city. They of course assumed that the ogre was going to kill the girl and before the ogre even saw them he was stung with two arrows to the back.

As the girl saw what was happening, she lept in front of the ogre to prevent any more arrows from making their mark. The patrol demanded she move aside, but she instead opened her locket and took out the ruby bauble from the inside. On it was the insignia from her kingdom. She told the patrol about what happened to the rest of her family, and that this ogre was the court's appointed guardian of her person.

They were taken back to the city and were given asylum by the High Priest. She grew up there and eventually learned to become a skilled jeweler and seamstress, eventually opening a high-end boutique-style gift shop. During the early years it was rough, as many people really did not want the ogre around and it's very likely that a pitchfork-and-torch sort of incident would have happened if it weren't for the princess being constantly at his side (as much to keep his anger in check as to keep the mobs at bay). Where he once saved her from wild creatures and barbarians, she saved him from prejudiced and suspicious townsfolk.

The shop was an actual place in town. Players frequented there to buy expensive gift items for other characters for all sorts of events, including at least one character wedding. Some items I'd only have out for a month and then I'd replace them with something else. This kept interest up and it also made some of the items more scarce and unique as a result (some ended up becoming thief bait).

The ruby bauble was important to her because it was all that she had left as proof of her lost family and kingdom. Any player that brought it back to her was rewarded with the complete story and a tidy sum of gold. This, of course, could have been the same person that stole it to begin with, but thieves aren't known for scruples. }x-]

It was not really much more than a fetch quest with a kinda-sorta Anastasia rip story behind it, but I still grew attached to the shop, and particularly that ogre. Over the years he found that he actually liked being friendly, and when customers came in I had a script where he would always chime in with a bellowing, "HIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" that even players outside could hear (it used the yell command, which could be heard within a certain radius). I kinda hate the idea of "generic shop keeps, whaddya buyin', whaddya sellin;" throw away NPCs. I always tried to inject a little more life into any NPCs I created, even enemies that were there pretty much just to grind on. If players were sneaking, they could witness dialog and other little bits of flavor. During combat I'd give them scripting to say and do certain things during the battle to make them feel less like a sack of XPs.

Oh, the nostalgia feels! Thanks for the great story, I'd nearly forgotten all about "Lug" and "Lady Vannie". I had originally intended that players could later on help them avenge her fallen kingdom, but sadly we were never able to complete building the area involved.


I was actually just thinking the same thing watching this gif. Just want to hug her and put my balls in her mouth!

And thus the vanqueshing of the evil sword, Nightmare Moonslicer.

Few months after flood, I and Moonslicer have come to be known as Garg the Protector by the humans. I become good friends with humans, even merchants who pass through town. They only scared for little bit before friends explain I am protector.

I enjoy when merchants pass through, but one day, strange human who not merchant pass through. He call himself Bard. Bard explain he tell stories. Friends asked that Bard stay in town for day and tell stories. Bard tell good stories about heroes like those I once fought. After he finished stories, Bard promised to tell heroes about Garg the Protector. I and Moonslicer thanked Bard, and next day he was gone.

Many months after Bard left, I heard tales of heroes who were coming to town. I felt very happy and Moonslicer was happy too. When the day finally came where heroes arrived, I and Moonslicer went to meet them.

We came upon heroes on the road, but I was scared. I was reminded of old times when I fight humans.

"There is nothing to be scared of Garg. You are good, as they are, and I'm sure the bard's tales have spread."

Moonslicer always knew how to assure me. She good friend. I approached the band and gave greeting.

"Hello! I Garg the Protector. I defend friends in village near here. Please come see friends in village."

After I said this, one of the humans in shiny armor pulled his sword out.

"Stay back fiend! You will not fool us with your tricks!"

"No. I no fiend. I friend." I

smiled at humans with best smile.

"Lies! You are an ogre, and you will die for the many you have surely slain! Attack!"

I was suddenly hit with pointy sticks and hot light.

"No! Garg!"

I heard Moonslicer cry. Her voice sound as if she herself had been hit.

I was hit so suddenly, I knew I could not fight back. I fell and my vision started to go black.

"Why they attack us Moonslicer? We good and they good. We should be friends."

I heard Moonslicer cry. I never heard Moonslicer cry before.

"I am sorry Garg. I was wrong. These fools were not what I thought. Now....now they have killed my....my best friend. I am sorry! I am so sorry!"

I saw shadow of shiny armor human over me. I knew what next. I no sad though.

"No be sorry, Moonslicer. You made me good and become friend. I never had friend before. You make Garg happy. Thank you. Good bye."

"Good bye my beautiful friend. I will never forget you."

I see shiny armor human raise sword and then I see nothing.

Don't be. I welled up reading it. The story moved me, but it also made me sad in that my murder hobos would kill this ogre before he got close enough to talk.

That escalated quickly

I imagine the townsfolk coming running to the scene with pitchforks and torches. The PCs would think that they have inspired the village to defend itself - until the people attacked them!

Garg used to not know love. Now Garg love pink-skin hoomies.

Did you make that gold?

Wouldn't they have lost their paladin hood?

wow, nice story.

Did anyone else hear Moonslicer in Judi Dench's voice?

True emotion is what I as a writer seek in my audience and a good tragedy beats all other forms of emotion

What is that?

Garg and Moonslicer take Miami

Can't spell slaughter without laughter.