It was a massive hand chasing pesky flies away. Partly hidden, with its back resting against a large boulder, sat a massive ape looking creature. It faced away from me and seemed to be resting from the noon day sun under the forest canopy that extended over the stream embankment. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the shadow, the form of the bipedal creature became clearer. Judging by the size of the tooth jutting out from its bottom jaw, it just had to be an ogre, my dad couldn’t have described it better to me. Seeing one sitting there, in real life, was sobering. For the first time it dawned on me that I dropped a few levels down the food chain while only a few minutes’ walk from camp.
Why at that stupendous moment of my life, the most ludicrous of ideas struck me, I’ll never know. I wondered how amazing the polished ivory from that ogre’s tooth would look on the hilt of my knife. I mean, who wouldn’t want an ivory ogre-tooth handle for a knife? The problem was getting hold of one. Naturally, that ogre wouldn’t just hand its tooth over if I asked. My dad always waxed lyrical about ogres. He considered them the heavy troops of the goblin world, the equivalent of infantry supporting tanks. Armed with all that pointless information, I had a decision to make. If I decided to head upstream there was a more than likely possibility the creature would notice me while out of the water. After all, it had far better faculties for spotting enemies or prey than I did. A larger nose that could smell better than I could, acute hearing, and a muscled body far stronger. Their sight wasn’t that fantastic, but good enough to see me moving on the opposite bank. Swimming upstream while underwater wasn’t an option because the current was simply too strong for me to swim against, and I was by no stretch of the imagination an athlete.
If I carried on downstream, how would I find the camp again and there was a possibility of an unarmed me bumping into other monsters lurking in the area. Another option was to hide and just wait it out, but if it noticed my clothes still lying on the rock upstream, it had enough intelligence to track me down knowing I was still in the area. And then I assumed there was only one of them.
My dad once said that to incapacitate an ogre in one blow, it had to be hit directly on the head, and hard enough to crack its skull, or as a second option, to strike at its gonads and then run for my life. Since the latter was more like asking for a death sentence, the former option would have to do. Up to that point my presence remained masked from the ogre because I was almost fully immersed in the stream. I was scared, but I forced myself to cautiously move. The large boulder on which the ogre rested now lay between us. On my side, the boulder had a sloping angle to which I could easily climb without needing handholds. The ogre sat on the far side, with its back facing me.
It was better for me to get closer by approaching while utilising the sloping boulder for cover and using the river water to mask my scent. While still in the river I found a large smooth, heavy rock. It felt as heavy as a large bag of rice or flour you buy in a bulk supply shop. At the time I was so full of adrenaline, I didn’t even register how heavy it was while I climbed the sloping boulder. As I reached the apex of the boulder, I could see the ogre’s large feet, thick legs, and knees. Its head jutted slightly above the edge of the boulder, making for a perfect target. I was still planning how best to nail it with the rock when its neck suddenly stiffened and I heard a clear large sniff as the ogre drew in some air. I’m not sure if the ogre got a smell of me or not, perhaps it had the equivalent of an ogre cold, but I was taking no chances. In one smooth movement I launched myself into the air with the rock lifted above my head like a two-handed slam-dunk. As the boulder slammed down, I put out my feet to land on the ogre’s shoulders as there was nowhere else to land. If my rock missed its target, or if it remained conscious, there was going to be a steep price to pay for me standing on the shoulders of a truly unhappy ogre.
I needn’t have worried because the rock hit the ogre’s head with a resounding crack, a fraction of a second after my bare feet landed on the rough, hairy ogre’s shoulders. I once rode an Indian elephant in Bangladesh, the hairs on its rough hide chaffed the skin on my legs something terrible. The ogre’s skin reminded me of that as I straddled its shoulders, I could even smell a mixture of sweat and dust on its skin. The ogre groaned as the rock in my hand split in two. For a moment I thought my plan had failed as I let go the rock in one hand and started to pummel the ogre’s head with the remaining half. In the maddened adrenalin rush I kept repeating some mad mantra,
“You think I stink, eh? You think I stink; you think I stink...”
while banging its head away as if I were trying to forge its skull. Eventually the ogre sank forward under my feet where it lay motionless, doubled up like a Swiss army pocketknife. I flew off the rock and sprinted towards the river, jumping from rock to rock in large, panicked strides. Finally, I stopped. From my well distanced position I waited, finally noticing blood running down the neck of the ogre from its head. If the ogre moved so much as a twitch, I planned to sprint away for my life.
Gathering my only remaining courage, I slowly crept forward like some monkey from Planet of the Apes. Finally, I tossed a couple of rocks at the ogre while still some distance away to test for a response, but I discovered the ogre was either unconscious or dead. By the time I prodded the thing with my finger, it wasn’t breathing anymore. That’s when I got cold shivers as my adrenaline high suddenly abandoned me like a collapsed bridge over troubled waters. For a while I couldn’t think, I just sat and recovered. Then reason stepped back, I had to report that as quickly as possible, heaven only knew if other monsters like it were in the area. I hastened to go, but before I left there was one more thing I needed to do…
I breathed heavily by the time I arrived at the gate. The two guards were clever enough to realise something was up as soon as they noticed me running towards the camp. Shouts from the corner towers alerted the gate guards to my frantic running.
“Are you okay there, son?”
“I’m… I’m…”
I was just too exhausted. Give me a spanner any day, and I’ll work anyone under the table stripping down a V8 motor and rebuilding it again. My engineer’s body just wasn’t designed for running. I couldn’t get a word out so eventually I showed them the two bloody objects in my hands.
“What the blazes!”
“Is that what I think it is?”
By then the boss arrived just in time to see the two ogre tusks still dripping blood in my hands.
“Did you just scavenge an ogre’s corpse?”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
The idea that I might have killed it never occurred to him. I shook my head.
“You mean you killed it?”
I nodded.
“Were you at the river?”
I nodded again.
“Did you see any other monsters?”
I shook my head.
“Son, I would’ve called you an outright liar if it weren’t for those bloody ogre tusks in your hand.”
He shouted instructions to some of the men nearby.
“I need a party of ten armed men, two with bows. Guards stay here and keep the camp gate closed. Newbie, you’re coming with us.”
“Eh?”
He must have seen the confusion on my face.
“Well, you are the only one who knows where the bloody thing is. You can leave that with the guards and wash your hands.”
He said pointing to the tusks. He sensed my hesitation.
“Some monsters can smell blood a long distance away, and if there are others, we’ll have to run. They’ll track us down faster with those in bloody tusks your hands and besides, they’ll only slow you down.”
Yep, I couldn’t argue that, so I handed the tusks to the guards as men arrived with swords, axes, and bows in hand, ready to leave. Without further ceremony we at once set off for the river.
When we arrived at the large boulder the ogre’s body still lay where I left it, some flies settled on it. I imagined they were no doubt pleased that nothing stopped them from doing their thing, whatever that was. Nobody whispered a word in fear of attracting other monsters lurking in the area. Quietly, one man bent down and picked up an imposing double-blade axe. They checked the body, poked, and prodded around some places. Then they searched further away from the body. It was the first time I took notice of what the ogre was wearing. I was so hyped at the time, that even after I beat the thing to death and bashed its teeth out with a rock, I never noticed It was wearing armour. My father never mentioned anything about ogres wearing armour, was that an oversight? There was a pendant of sorts hanging around the ogre’s neck that the boss collected and then he silently looked at the split rock on the ground, pointed at it then at me. I sheepishly smiled as I made head smashing motions with my hands. He just shook his head when he looked at the ogre.
Finally, they expertly skinned the ogre, taking everything of value, including the arms and legs which they could carry. It would have been a ghastly site if it weren’t so macabrely fascinating. Their efficiency was par excellence and within thirty minutes little but the main body, remained. Everything else they pulled to the river and unceremoniously dumped it in the stream to float away downriver.
Back in the camp the people there were noticeably edgy which was understandable given that I may have inadvertently stirred up a hornet’s nest by killing that ogre.
“Hey, Newbie.”
It was the supervisor’s voice bringing my thoughts back to the present. We were standing in his large sleeping tent that seconded as an office. Orilay stood next to me and the supervisor sat at his desk facing us.
“What do you know about ogres?”
“Only a little bit, stories from what my father told me.”
I might as well be honest, I had nothing to gain from pretending otherwise.
“Do you understand what ogre you killed?”
“I thought it was just like any other ogre.”
“Think again because you killed an ogre general.”
“What’s an ogre general?”
“What?”
That surprise came from both me and Orilay.
“Of all the ogre’s you picked on, I can’t believe you decided to kill an ogre general. Someone’s going to miss him and come looking for him soon enough, and when they do, they’ll likely find us too.”
I certainly didn’t think of that when I decided to hunt him down. I simply focused on the best way to dispatch it without killing myself, seeing I only had my birthday suit on, and a rock. What could I say?
“I’d hoped there wouldn’t be monsters south of the highway, but it seems I was wrong and unfortunately it included bloody ogres as well.”
He was silent for a while deep in thought but soon said,
“Orilay, does that axe remind you of anyone?”
The supervisor was referring to the ogre’s axe that stood next to his desk. It was so damned heavy the guys had to take turns carrying it on the way back.
“Yeah, it’s Waldheim’s axe.”
I had no idea who Waldheim was, but a look of reverence covered their faces as if recalling a long-lost memory.
“Newbie. Tackling an ogre with a rock was the foolhardiest act I’ve ever heard of. Even if it slept at the time, I seriously recommend you don’t try that again.”
I nodded. Lesson learned.
“But on the other hand, your bravery is beyond most. Had you not killed it when you did, we may have suffered a far worse fate with an ogre general in the vicinity. For that, you have our greatest gratitude.”
I bowed and thanked him for the compliment. I really didn’t have the gall to tell him that I did it purely to save my own neck and that I also wanted those tusks as a handle for my hobby knife.
“Before you leave. We decided you can keep everything of value from your kill. The only thing I’ll ask is if you would be willing to part with the ogre leather and armour? Next to Marsh Bullfrog leather the ogre leather has a high value as armour or shoes, and some of these men and their families always need shoes. It would go a long way to helping them.”
I understood the subtle meaning behind the supervisor’s last comment. Helping my community would improve my standing with them. Then why did I feel like I was fulfilling a quest in a fantasy RPG? I had no need for the leather at the time, although I had a sneaky suspicion I might regret it later when I discovered I really needed it. There was an opportunity to improve my relationship with those people I didn’t lose entirely.
“What do you want the armour for?”
Practically speaking it had no value for the woodcutters unless they happened to be as large as an orgre.
“We’ll sell it to the adventurer’s guild or anyone else who has interest. There’s always some rich guy that will find it interesting, especially since its rare and once belonged to an ogre general. Since you don’t belong to the adventurer guild consider it my service fee for the privilege of killing that ogre. If you’re still hard up about that then consider it as a forward payment for the hassle caused if that ogre’s pals make a turn around here, looking for their general.”
Yep, he had a point. No argument there and besides I was still to new to everything to know if I should complain or not.
“I’ve no problem with you keeping the armour and the leather but I have one request. Could someone be as kind as to make me a pair of shoes? This pair I’m wearing now I borrowed from Orilay and I would like to return them as soon as I’m able.”
They both smiled.
“I’m sure someone can help you with that. Here take these things with you, you’ll need them and I’m not lugging it around with me.”
He winced and gave me the items they found on the ogre: a silver coloured chain with a strange green pendant, three separate rings also attached to the chain and a separate red-coloured stone. I placed the chain with the items around my neck for safe keeping and put the stone in my pocket. Additionally, I received three gold coins, five silvers and a few coppers plus a small knife and its scabbard. That didn’t include the large battle axe I literally dragged along the ground back to the smithy. I later discovered why the supervisor winced. The rings were exorbitantly expensive skill rings, and few were likely to see even one ring in their lives, let alone three, and the supervisor just gave all of them away. I'm not sure if he expected me to know about skill rings, but he neglected to tell me, which later led to another interesting situation.
The supervisor watched Shane as he left the tent while dragging that ridiculously large axe behind him. It would have looked hilarious if he didn’t know the background to that story. To single-handedly kill an ogre general with nothing but a rock meant that young man was either foolhardy beyond human comprehension or incredibly brave. In the supervisor’s eyes, Shane would either live a short life or live to become a brilliant fighter.
By the time I returned the sun was on the way to setting and I got an earful when I returned to find Grenfell looking a bit frustrated.
“You told me you were getting a whetstone, not looking for ogres to kill!”
I totally forgot the whetstone.