AKA: Egor (as an ogre)
Race: Halfling Weretiger
(used to be an ogre)
Class: Barbarian
Pronouns: He/Him
Description:
Egor is a large 9'3" tall ruddy brown ogre. He wears an old coin he found one day around his neck and an old beat-up set of scale mail given to him by his master. If he were to take off the mail you would see a set of large scars running down his back on either side of his spine. Egor has no idea how, when, or why he has them. They've always been there as far as he can remember, which isn't very often. In fact most of the time he forgets he has them altogether.
Biobraphy:
Egor was born (he doesn’t remember how old he is: He was too young at the time of his birth to quite recall the exact year) into the typical tribe of Ogres that all Ogre assistants seem to come from. About the time he was in his late teens, he was thrown out of the tribe for being to soft-hearted. He puzzled over this until he forgot was he was worrying about and began the journey to the civilized lands, where he was sure that humans would embrace him as a fellow gentle-being. He was a little surprised at their reactions of wanting to burn, kill, dismember, maim him and was more than a little disappointed by the whole experience. He began lurking around bridges and charging tolls until a group of unionized trolls ran him out of the territory. He was in despair and was almost ready to take the cowards way out and become a wizard, when he met his master. Here was a kindred spirit indeed!!! Seeing that this wizard was misunderstood just as he was, a bond was formed between them. His master soon got most of it off of his clothes and then they journeyed on to great adventures and discovered many of the ancient secrets of the dead (Egor had already known some of them). At one point, his master conceived of the idea of reforming and Egor agreed (because after all, the dead are kind of yucky). So now he is ready to start doing some good and be a beloved hero. (He already has several poses he is ready to strike on a moments notice, if he remembers.)
Journal:
This was not the first time that Egor was waiting for the master to return. The master has mysterious ways and is often gone. A low canine whine escaped him. He dare not complain to the master, but he has always hated these moments away from him. Once, the master left him to collect specimens and was gone for three whole days. Egor had smiled brightly when he returned, never letting him know the misery and despair that he had felt for those days that had dragged into years. He had thought he would go mad, but it would not do to bother the master with such weaknesses. No, Never.
He puzzled over many of the things that the master had told him lately. The master has a fine mind and Egor did not understand much of what was said, but he did understand when the master spoke of change. Change was good, and good could lead to better things for the both of them. Egor hoped that the master could discover a permanent spell that would erase his hideous looks and give him a fine handsome body. That would be wonderful because then maybe, just maybe, he could find a pretty woman to call his own.
For in his simple, dim way, Egor longed for love. He did not recognize these feelings but he did learn to hate those moments when he had longings that he did not understand. The master called it the hole in his heart, but that puzzled Egor because physically he felt fine. But the master is wiser than he will ever be, so strange as it is, it must be so.
Gnashing his teeth, Egor wondered if the master would ever return. If he did not come back soon Egor would have to go and look for him. Anything else would be unbearable. Idly, he picked at his dinner and sighed. When they had turned south several weeks ago, the improvement in the weather had raised both of their spirits, but not for long. The master has been preoccupied of late and would go for long periods of time without calling for him. Even Egor’s attempts at humor and jests had met a lukewarm reception.
Egor dearly wished that things were simple. He enjoyed simple things because they demanded nothing of him mentally other than to be enjoyable or objectionable. Rolling over on his side, he examined the doll he had begun carving earlier this morning. The face was the key, his critical eye told him, and he began to softly shape the cheeks of a young elven maid into the wood. It was soothing work and it calmed him as he became more involved with his task. Within a few days he figured that the head would be complete and then he could start the delicate task of attaching it to a straw body. Already he had a full dozen completed dolls in his rucksack, and the quality was quite good even by human standards. Sometimes when coin was scarce, he was even able to get a few bits of gold for the sale of one of them. But his real joy came from giving them to little children, so that they could have a friend too. Thus far he had only been able to give away two, because of suspicious parents. Sigh, If only he were pretty too.
His keen ears now prick up. The master is coming! Putting the doll carefully in his sack, he stands and waits for the door to open.