NEW CHARACTER
Full Name: Boutros
Race: Half Ogre
Age: 19
Class: Fighter
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Deity: Boutros is intrigued by Xeen, but finds the lack of morality vaguely disturbing.
Description:
Boutros measures at just under 8 feet tall, massively built. Two fangs jut upwards from his closed mouth. His skin is a mottled yellow, pocked with scars here and there. Eyes are black, seemingly without pupils. There is a penetrating intelligence in those eyes.
Bio:
Boutros’ human mother nearly died giving birth to her oversized son. For the rest of her short, enslaved life, Cariad endured unimaginable suffering only to give Boutros the chance to live another day in the ogre tribe…
It worked. Though Cariad was beaten to death by an ogress when Boutros saw his sixth year, her devotion gave the boy not slavery, but domination: Among ogres, Boutros was a genius.
Boutros learned patience. When you are not strong, you must endure. Boutros’ first independent action was to avenge his mother’s murder. He arranged a feud between the tribal chief and the murderess.
It worked. The ogress was dead, and the tribal chief off-balance. An opportunity presented itself. Boutros kept up the pressure on the chief by slowly goading his father, Khavargh, into confronting the chief himself. The boy ogre made this choice easy by helping his enormous father arrange a majority alliance. The tribal chief’s support crumbled, and one night he found himself confronted alone by six ogres. The largest ogre in a band of twenty-five fought savagely, but was dead within minutes.
Khavargh led, advised by Boutros. The remnants of an orc tribe – decimated by an elf posse – were dominated by this unusually organized ogre band. The runt half-ogre saw opportunities, and made sure they were seized. For years, tribe grew fairly influential through alliances with other humanoid bands in the Goblin Wastelands, and wealthy (by ogre standards) through raids into human and elven lands. Boutros used his smaller allies wherever possible, learning the responses of the mannish races ‘on the cheap.’ He guarded his resources, kept the tribal members comfortable and happy, and risk to a minimum.
But Khavargh was impatient, and cared little for risk management. As Boutros grew into a man, his father became increasingly restive under his son’s tutelage. There was a bond between them, though it couldn’t be called love. Boutros watched with increasing alarm as his father ordered bigger, bolder raids on the elves within the Sielwood Forest. Elven retaliation bloodied the ogre band, slashing their numbers.
Khavargh raged -- and like a gambler who can't stop even on a losing streak -- ordered more attacks deeper into the forest. Boutros could sense the danger, but dithered, hoping to pull his father back under control. Boutros miscalculated. The ogre band melted under the elven retaliation. Watching the situation deteriorate with numbing rapidity, Boutros fled.
Months passed in hiding. Cautiously, Boutros resurfaced in the larger cities of the west, large enough that people took little notice of ‘different folk,’ even a half-ogre. Lessons of living in human society were constant and painful. Boutros cared little for the stares, even the looks of fear and intimidation.
Humans were way too smart. Boutros – accustomed to success in his machinations amongst the humanoids – found himself of only average leadership ability in human society. Twice, he led a gang of inexperienced adventurers, but they were disappointing affairs. No group he led did well under him. The competition was always better.
Boutros did find a place in mercenary work, and even found the company pleasant. He cared little for the object of the mission, or of the parties involved; but that wasn’t expected of a mercenary anyway. Just to be paid, and Boutros liked being paid.
The half-ogre learned of friendship... A strange, yet comforting feeling. Unfortunately, companions were usually temporary. Some died, some left, and a few contradicted Boutros’ long-range plans, such as they were anyway. He switched groups occasionally, always seeking to join a ‘winner.’
