The wind was uncaring. It had no qualms with cutting the ogre child to the bone with its chill. Despite what he has been through, despite his loss and his bitter sorrow. It howled at him, screaming at the trespasser who dared to wander its woods at the height of winter.

The child had been outside the cave before, of course. The ogres were no shut-ins. He went on fishing trips with his brothers, traveled to visit other ogre families, and even visited Brinehaven once. But Brinehaven was too far away. There were no other ogre families on this side of Elderveil. Even the rivers he knew were likely frozen over.

So, he trudged through the snow, hoping to find shelter. His one bootless foot felt numb and wet, despite the layers of socks. He had hoped to find a road, but every trail was swallowed by snow. A blanket of white interspersed with massive trees. As the hours passed, the wood became thicker and thicker. The ogre stumbled over fallen branches and trees that were not strong enough for the harsh land. Night fell upon the forest like a shadow.

He spent that night shivering inside a pile of loose branches tossed. They formed a poor shelter from the wet. But, it was better than letting the wind blow over him.

An intense stomach and leg cramp, mercilessly simultaneous, woke him. After ten or so agonizing minutes, he was able to crawl from his hole. The ogre was weak, incredibly so. He could barely stand. How long had it been since he had eaten? He had never experienced such cramps before. Was it a part of starving to death?

Hunting was not one of the ogre's strong suits and he saw no evidence of animal life. Surely there WERE animals around. Hiding in holes or curled up in caves. There were no plants to gather, and berries to find. There certainly were no kitchens out here.

The ogre ate snow as he walked. Every step coming slower than the last. His toes couldn’t move. It was dark, pitch black. No stars or moon could pierce the storm, and his eyes were not accustomed to the dark.

At last, he saw something. A faint light. A window? Or a campfire? Whichever it was. It meant fire, warmth, and… food.

—

Kella was stuck. Ricka told her, told all the goblins actually, “Don’t come back without loot, food, or something fun.” She thought she was clever. Traveling far from the camp, so that no one would have already looted the place. How was she supposed to know it was gonna storm? Now she couldn’t go back and nothing was dumb enough to be out in this.

Already three dumbass gremlins froze themselves solid. They made a nice treat, at least. But, she didn’t want to lose ALL of the gremlins. Who would carry the loot back?

She was forced to tell the gremlins about the system and walk them through the process of getting some form of cold resistance. That was basic, using biotraits to survive the environment. Almost all the goblins back at camp had it. So, it should have been easy. Nonetheless, one moron thought it was being cheeky and selected “boiling blood”.

Kella ended up cracking its skull, just to get the screaming to stop.

“Hey, Boss, what’s that?” One of the gremlins was pointing downwind. Something was moving. She lifted her torch higher, goblins had good dark vision, but you needed some light.

“I think that might be our way home!” A human… wait, was it human? It was as tall as one and as thin. But its head was too big. Small tusks weren’t a human thing, right? It stumbled to them, wavering back and forth.

The human… or whatever, reached a hand out towards the torch. It smelled of fear, body odor, and… ogre? That almost sweet, meaty smell that ogres stank of. That was when she realized the thing was an ogre. Smallest, skinniest ogre she’s ever seen. Well, good enough. Rika wasn’t happy with ogres lately.

“Help… me…” the words were strained. The thing was half dead already! Easy hunting, for sure. Then it fell forward, slapping into the snow.

The gremlins looked at one another. That was easy.

“Well!” She turned to address the gremlins. “Start tying it up! Gonna be a pain to drag it back if its legs are all sprawling about.” They got to work. Swarming over the unprocessed meat like spiders. They crudely tied his legs and arms together using some twine they had for this very purpose.

In no time, the eight remaining gremlins were dragging it behind them through the snow. It took a few days to get out here, so maybe they would find something on the way back to add to it.

At least she could get back into the warmth.

Almost half an hour later, Kella held up a hand. Her almost dog-like snout twitched. She smelled something. It smelled like bird feathers, oil, and herbs. The gremlins stopped in their tracks, the last one in line bumping against the second to last.

The two gremlins shoved each other and the rest dropped the ogre child. Kella sighed. Morons. She listened to the wind. Other goblins were simple in selecting their traits. Going for jaws, claws, even venom, and tough skin. But these were useless if you couldn’t get to your prey. Kella was a huntress and was working to perfect a hunter's body.

Listening past the wind, she could hear the soft crunch of snow. There! A patch of shadow darker than the night around it. Invisible to all but the keenest of eyes.

Then she heard the thwack of a string slapping wood. She stepped to the side just as a bolt whizzed by and buried itself into a tree.

Kella rushed forward like a mad dog. That was a crossbow. Which means it only had one shot before-

THWACK. A second bolt was fired from the shadow. Twisting to the side, the bolt missed her center mass and instead grazed her arm. She hissed at the pain. Hot blood ran down her arm. Too hot. Burning! Kella’s arm spasmed. It felt like her blood was on fire. Poison!

Ignoring the pain, she’ll heal the poison with the level she will get from killing whoever dared attack her, she brandished her claws in her free hand. Well, maybe she splurged on some claws. A girl has to protect herself.

“Kill!” Kella’s command stirred the gremlins into motion. This was not their first fight, and it wouldn’t be their last if she had anything to say about it. They rushed forward with tiny battle cries, forgetting the ogre behind them.

The shadow moved as she dived towards it. It seemed to float through the air, dancing in the shadows cast by her torch.

Stolen story; please report.

Three knives flew from the dark and three gremlins fell dead. One just fell over from the shock.

Kicking up snow, Kella chased after her prey. Too slow. She put the torch in her mouth, holding it near the bottom, and ran on all fours. Soon she caught up to the hunter.

A human in a dark cloak with a wide, sturdy hat with a short, flat top. Beneath the cloak, it wore a coat with no sleeves. The human’s arms were completely bare, aside from a pair of gloves.

Already in its hands was a small sword, or perhaps a heavy dagger, with a straight edge and a wedge-like profile. Its handle was simple leather cords wrapped around the short hilt. A blade of utility, not artistry.

She fought humans before. The trick was to get in close, fast. Sword reach meant nothing if you were already slicing their throat.

He was slow, but easily she stepped into a tight range. She bit harder onto the torch, excitement overtaking her as she went in for the kill.

A painful punch to the chest took her breath. She coughed blood and the torch tumbled to the snow. The human had stabbed her. It seems he was used to fighting things like her. Monsters. He let her come close and had hidden a knife out of view. Kella’s body twitched in pain as she felt the poison spread fast. Stumbling back, she looked down. He had stabbed her up from beneath the ribs. Directly into her heart.

“Well, fuck.” Blood splattered from her lips as she choked out her last words. Moments later, the rest of the gremlins were dead as well.

—

A hot pain and a wonderful smell woke the ogre. He was bundled in layers of furs in front of a fire. The chill had left him entirely. His foot pained him. It burned as though it was cast in boiling water.

Sure enough, his foot was inside a bucket of water. He winced, moving his leg to pull it out of the scalding water.

The appearance of his foot nearly made him sick. Blackened toes, blisters, and loose skin. It hurt as though on fire.

“Whoa there, kid.” The voice spoke in a foreign accent. There was a drawl-like quality to his voice that was oddly soothing. “You gotta keep your foot submerged.” A gentle hand pushed his leg back into the water. “What were you thinking? Walkin’ around with only one boot.”

They were in a small log cabin. Pelts of various animals… no, monsters, decorated the place. Warg pelts, jackalope fur with antlers attached, and even a drake skin. There was a medicinal scent in the air.

“Here, drink this. It will help.” A man came into view. He looked to be in his mid to late twenties. Clean shaved and with an unusually pointed nose and chin. He handed the ogre a tin cup full of hot tea. He took a sip and nearly spit it out. It was incredibly bitter. “Yeah, should've warned ya. Ain’t fun going down, but it should help with the pain. Drink up, kid.”

Then he noticed the table. Laying on it was a strange weapon. It looked like a heavy crossbow with two bows, one atop the other.

“Where am I?”

“A cabin I borrow in the winter. Doesn’t have a name. Speaking of which… you got one?”

“No.” The human looked skeptical but didn’t say anything.

“So what were you doing out there? You were nearly eaten by goblins, till I saved you.” Goblins? The last he remembered, he saw a window light… or something. Then he passed out. The tea was foul, the taste alone was making him forget about his leg. His stomach squirmed and grumbled.

“Food… Sir, if you have some, I’ve not eaten.”

“I noticed. Never seen an ogre so… thin. I’m boiling up some bones. Broth will be thin, but it’s best to ease into food after starving for so long.” The human sat on a simple chair. “How long were you out there? There are towns a few days away. You in some sort of trouble?”

“Thank you for the tea, sir.” The edge of his mouth twitched into a smirk.

“Alright, then. Every man’s entitled to their secrets.” He took a sip from his own drink. “First things first, you are luckier than a lord that I found you when I did. That foot… it’s bad. Now, I don’t know much about ogre folk. Y’all drink the vile brew?”

“Uh… yes. Ma makes it for us when we’re little.”

“That’ll help. You haven’t found a way to upgrade it, have you?” He shook his head. “That’s a problem. That foot is half dead. It’s going to rot right off your leg and kill you if you don’t find a doctor. Unless you can get rot resistance, that is. It will be dead weight, but you can take your time finding a barber or surgeon. Hell, get a cool peg leg to boot.”

The ogre looked at the bucket with a dazed expression. There was a hollow feeling in his chest. Another thing he lost. Even if he found a doctor, he had no money. No favors.

“Oh.” Was all he could muster to reply. Even to the ogre’s ears, it sounded empty. The human looked at him in the eyes and nodded slowly.

“Oh… just oh?” He slowly stood up from the chair and gave his nose a small nudge to the side. Then he kicked the bucket, enough to slosh it but not enough to spill it. The ogre screamed, pain shooting up his leg. “Just OH?! You sound like you’ve already given up, kid. The hell’s wrong with you?”

“What? I-” He was wincing as the pain began to throb.

“How old are you? Ten, twelve? Not even old enough to select your first class. To make your way in the world. Where’s your fire? The will to LIVE?” The ogre was crying. “Whatever you’ve been through, you can push past it. Ogre up!”

“But… my foot. No doctor will-”

“That doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you want it. If you want to live, fight for it.” Fight for life? He had no life. He was alone, in the company of a madman. But the human's passion was palpable. Maybe it was the excitement in the air, or maybe it was the bitter tea, but he did start to feel the small embers of hope.

“What do I do?” The human stood over him, arms crossed.

“What are you willing to do to live?”

“I don’t-” Snot was running down the ogre’s face.

“WHAT WILL YOU DO!?” A glint in the human's eye drew his attention. They were pure and focused. The eyes of a great man.

“Anything!” The man laughed and slapped a knee, then sat down.

“That’s more like it, kid.” He gave the ogre a few minutes to cool his pain.

“Who are you?” Just what was this man? Some sort of demon?

“Just a hunter. Give me your name, I’ll give you mine. Common courtesy.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Well, when you get one, we’ll swap.” The hunter poured him a cup of bone broth. It was hot and weak, but already the ogre felt his body begin to crave it. He sipped at the broth for a while, trying his best to ignore his burning foot.

“So, what can I do? About my foot, I mean.” The hunter blew air from his cheeks.

“Well… there ain’t a whole lot of decent ways to get a biotrait. And I don’t know of any feats to upgrade your resistance.” He knuckled his head for a moment. “ Poison flush might do ya good, but you’d have to do it constantly. You say your prayers, yet?”

“No, ogres don’t say the prayers until they get a name.”

“You willing to break tradition?”

“Umm…” Was he? Without his family, tradition was all he had to remember them. But… he didn’t want to die either.

“Do I have to kick the bucket again?”

“No! I’ll do it. Do you know the words?”

“Repeat after me. I pray to Sahrzuel, the ever-hungry and beast of a billion forms. I give thanks to never-ending prey and beasts to test my mettle.”

Those weren’t the words Faun said, he was sure. But, He repeated them.

[Feat achieved: The Ever Hungry. Cause: Offer a prayer to Sahrzuel in thanks. Reward: One Biotrait point.]

“I’ll save the rest if you don’t mind. Tradition is… important.”

“To each their own. Now, upgrade disease resistance to rot resistance.” He did. The ogre felt no different. “Good! Now you probably won’t die from it. You can also eat damn near anything too, it’s a good trait.”

In the rest of the broth, the human stewed some crushed grains and added chunks of smoked meat. The ogre ate hungrily, but the human wouldn’t let him eat his fill. He claimed it could be dangerous. The ogre was starting to feel self-conscious. He wasn’t sure how he could repay the man.

“Thank you, Hunter. How can I pay you back?”

“I don’t think you could walk very fast, but…” A sadistic smile flashed on his face. “You could help me in my current hunt. Lord Fountwhich is paying a tidy sum for it.”

“I can try. I’ve never hunted before. What are we hunting? Deer? Boar?”

“Nothing so mundane. We are hunting a spider. A very shy spider, or so I have heard.”

Ogre

True Name: [None]

Soul: Mortal

Genseed: Ogre

[Class] Level: 4

Attributes [0]:

Strength: 8

Dexterity: 5

Constitution: 8

Intelligence: 7

Will: 6

Charm: 6

Feats:

Knowledge: System Knowledge

Act: Vile Concoction

Act: The Ever Hungry

Skills [3]:

System Aptitude: 1

Biotraits [0]:

RotResistance