The Tale of Grumblethump, the Goodly Ogre

The scathing curses and roaring cries for blood seemed to come from everywhere. From all around the forest's shadows gave way to the amber glow of torches. A multitude of footfalls upon fallen autumnal leaves coalesced to form a single thrumming crescendo growing ever nearer. The wrath of the Village of Poshkin was upon him.

An arrow whistled through the air only to be halted by the trunk of a tree. The resounding thud turned the hunted beast's attention to it but could not slow his frantic feet. Thrashing through barbed undergrowth and bounding over mushroom-laden logs, his trail was easily followed as if the size of his footprints alone were not enough. Upon a stone he stumbled and fell to one knee, the bulk of his torso heaving forward to collide with yet another tree trunk. From it a rodent scurried higher into the bows above him with rebuking chatter as if mocking his inability to escape. He glanced up and around but launched himself forward without a direction or destination beyond away. The foliage whirled through his vision in a blur of madness and fear; his focus only upon life and death. Shoving himself through, around and over whatever impeded his progress, he lashed out blindly with both hands, his legs pumping furiously. He would not let the woods overpower his will to survive. And his willingness seemed to be nearly rewarded when he saw the forest finally give way to open air just ahead. But there, in that lit, treeless expanse beyond the branches and timber was where inevitability and despair converged. For that open air was but bait for a trap forged of stony crags a great distance below a sudden lack of earth. And the villagers had driven him right into it.


Unknowingly the beast hurled himself at the bait and into the trap he went, gravity its snare. The cliff's ledge crumbled beneath his heavy foot and his vision was suddenly filled by a vastly deep gully through which ran a pitiful stream around painfully jagged stone. At once he was grounded no more. He fell into the wind. His arms flailing about him, the plummeting monstrosity became certain of his own demise as the deadly earth grew quickly nearer forcing a shriek from out of his gullet. That cry of fear and impending agony erupted as a terrifying roar which reverberated throughout the valley and brought a sudden halt and resounding silence to each and every creature who heard it. That is to say all but the falling beast stood still.

And in that moment of stillness, born from the eyes of a would-be monster, came tears. He did not want to die. Anguish, frustration, torment and fury swirled through every instant of his decent to doom. Futility, sorrow, blame and embarrassment trailed them like emotional shadows. Why could the people of Poshkin not understand? He had done nothing wrong. He had only wanted to help. But it would seem, for that help, a painful death would be his reward. After all, ogres were evil. Ogres were wicked. Ogres deserved to die.

Then a flash of light swept his senses away from imminent death. The entirety of his consciousness was enveloped by the sensation of weightlessness and a soft, passive thrumming replaced the rush of wind. The gully of crags was gone and in its place only a tranquil, pastel hue that seemed to rhythmically ungulate like a heartbeat. And from that rhythm he found serenity. As if placed into a womb of light, he found peace. And soon, like a babe, he fell asleep.

Ooooo. This sounds good. I wanna see more!

* * *

“You're safe now, champion of the grotesque,” a minute, feminine voice resounded.

“Huh? Wha'?” He began to stirr. He lay upon cold stone, of that he was certain but his eyes could not yet open. The heavy pull of slumber still tugged at his consciousness.

“Rise and join us. We feast in your honor.”

The scent of cooked meats and spiced vapors struck him suddenly and roused his senses. His eyes fluttered and his mouth watered. “Food?”

“Yes, humble beast. All your hungers shall be served. Your seat at the head of the table awaits you. If only you'd rise and grace us with your presence.”

“Hungry,” he mumbled, urging his limbs to move clumsily about until they managed a firm position against the floor. His eyes ever so slightly opened, he sat upright and tried to peer through the fugue of his dazzled mind to make sense of his environment.

“Shiny... fairy fire,” he groggily responded, upon noticing the pink and blue flames dancing about overhead. He reached up to touch the dancing lights but his hand just as quickly fell back into his lap.

“But of course. Your beauty could not go unnoticed, now could it? The fairies have come to celebrate you. It is in our kingdom you now sit.”

“Fairy... fairy kingdom?” He had heard of this place before and it brought quite some concern though his body could not properly respond as such. “Fairy magic... bad.”

A myriad of laughter sounded out from the blurry haze surrounding him. Canting his head and squinting through his addled senses, the ogre sniffed the air again. The scent of roasting and stewing were gone. His nostrils were now filled with the smell of earth and mushroom. “Fairy magic,” he muttered again. The fairies had tricked him. They teased him. Oh how he wished he could shake their spells from his mind! He could not focus!

Still groggy, he floundered his way onto all fours and growled, “Bad magic.” He slapped his forehead solidly with one hand to knock the haze from his skull but to no avail. “Fairies play trick.”

“Oh come now. Would you cast dispersions upon your hosts? Would you condemn the very souls that saved your pitiful life?”

Then he remembered the cliff and his imminent death at the hands of the villagers and a layer of the magic fog evaporated from his mind. He gasped in realization. “Fairies help?”

“Yes, silly monstrosity. 'Fairies help.'”

Again there was much laughter; tiny, minute voices cackling and heckling. The ogre peered about, his vision returning ever so slightly so that he saw he was in an enormous chamber beneath a canopy of twinkling lights. Those lights, the fairy fire he had noticed before, were in fact the fairies themselves hovering overhead. The combined light of the tiny creatures revealed the area around him. There he saw that he now knelt in a wide stone cavern within which earthen spires hanged and jutted from the roof and floor among a plethora of intricately grown mushroom clusters. It would seem to him that he looked now upon a strange, naturally-hewn city cast in miniature. It was a grand palace of stone with dozens if not hundreds of towers both above and below amid a vast township of mushroom architecture. And he knew then it was the fairy kingdom after all.

“What fairies want?” the ogre warily wondered.

“Why, just what I said,” the voice responded. It no longer seemed to come from everywhere but rather from one of the many fairy fires above him. “We wish to celebrate you, the champion of dullards. It is not often an ogre can be called a hero, now is it?”

“Hero?” the monster replied unsure if he had heard the fairy correctly.

“Exactly.” More fairy laughter taunted the ogre's sensibilities urging his caution forward. “We saw you, you know. We saw you fell that terrible troll. The one that ate the girl.”

His eyes opened wide and his heart beat a bit faster. “You know! You know! Me no hurt baby girl! Troll bad! Not Grumblethump! Grumblethump good!”

The laughter that ensued was voluminous and an absolute onslaught upon the ogre's ears. He cringed, confused and bewildered and torn from his brief moment of relief. Then from the laughter the voice called out, ”Grumblethump? Grumblethump! Is that your name?” He could only nod in affirmation but that was enough to bring the laughter back to a throng of cruelty. “Oh how perfect! How appropriate! Grumblethump the Goodly Ogre!” And this they began to chant: Grumblethump the Goodly Ogre over and over and over.

He did not know why his name was funny to them. He did not understand why their laughter was so... mean. It was the laughter of the wicked. It was the behavior of the vicious. It was the stuff of his childhood among the ogrynn. And that meant they were laughing at him. That even among beings who had saved his very life he was still just the ugly butt of a universal joke. Unwanted by his own kind and despised by the rest of the world, he was undeniably alone. And his heart choked on the coldness that suddenly filled it. It grew heavy and slow. His eyes turned to the ground beneath him and he wished he could somehow crawl beneath it. The laughter faded and he could only hear his own self-deprecating thoughts. Big dumb ogre! Ugly, ugly, ugly! Wish you was dead!

”ENOUGH!” a voice boomed and a crack of thunder blasted across the cavern. The fairies shrieked and scattered as they feared for their lives. A great power was upon the Fairy Kingdom and they had been caught off guard. Grumblethump however, shocked back into reality by the sudden calamity, did not move. He merely lifted his eyes to behold the majestic radiance that shown from the alabaster flesh of Isavol, the Green Sorceress.

“I did not bid you summon this noble creature to your kingdom so that you might torment him as well,” the sorceress condemned. “Such folly and hubris. What if your words took from him the gentility of his soul? What then? Does he not stand at the very heart of your kingdom? Is he not an ogre, born from such stone as your palace is made? Do not the ogres command such stone? Think foolish fairies! Observe and think! This ogre you now mock has spared your very lives this day.”

“Don't be mad, pretty witch. Me no hurt fairies,” Grumblethump admitted, his voice as soft as he imagined her skin was. “Fairies save Grumblethump. But me so dumb... so ugly... they laugh.” He nodded as if he understood or even approved of their chastisement.

“Oh you precious thing,” Isavol swooned. “How perfectly wrong you are.” As if she were gliding upon invisible wings she moved smoothly across the air to hover before him, her face level with his own. And then, inexplicably, she bent forward and placed a single, soft kiss upon his forehead.

A resounding gasp preceded dead silence within the cavern. Grumblethump could only gawk along with the fairies at the audacity of the Green Sorceress. “They laugh,” she explained, “Because they don't know what to do when faced with the absolute epitome of grace. Though you may lack luster and your words might shy away from eloquence, you are, dear Grumblethump, a purity unknown to this land.”

“Purity?” he wondered. “Me a... a purity?”

“Mhmm,” she smiled, stroking his cheek.

“What... what be a purity?”

The slightest snicker from an unseen fairy sent Isavol's eyes searching for the culprit but soon they returned to meet his own and she answered, “Purity is... untouched... unblemished... perfection. Understand?” He nodded but she could see he truly didn't. She smiled and her eyes began to sparkle with burgeoning tears. “Purity is you, Grumblethump. You are good and kind and noble because it is the very nature of your soul and you don't muddle it up with greed and selfishness. You continue to do good by the world even though it treats you so terribly. You defend and avenge the weak because in your heart you know it should be done and you take it upon yourself to do it... never expecting praise. That is purity, my dear, sweet, precious Grumblethump... the Goodly Ogre.”

And when Isavol said it, that moniker that had just been used to torment, the Goodly Ogre, it suddenly became a thing of beauty. It was a term of endearment and honest intent. He heard it and it warmed his heart. “Grumblethump the Goodly Ogre!” he repeatedly quite excitedly. “Grumblethump be ogre... but Grumblethump be good! Goodly Ogre!”

“Yes, Grumblethump. You've got it!” Isavol delighted. “Now come and feast as was promised you by the fairy kingdom. And to serve you... Grumblethump, the Goodly Ogre... none other than the Fairy King.”

I love obnoxious fairies. Good stuff so far.

* * *

He was unaware that his jaw hung agape, nor did he realize a lengthy tendril of saliva dangled from his lower lip. Grumblethump could only stare in absolute awe as Isavol glided from one end of the chamber to the other, collecting librams and scrolls and vials of liquid. So fluidly did she move. With what grace did she measure and pour and spoon and heap. It was as if she were a dancer choreographed to the rhythm of a song that was in fact a ritual psalm that would become some grand enchantment. The air absolutely sizzled with anticipated energies seeking mystical release. A drip of Grumblethump's spittle splashed upon the floor.

“Oh my,” Isavol suddenly noted, coming to a halt. Her ogrynn admirer hastily moved to wipe the drool from his face as she explained, “It would seem I was entirely out of salamander eggs.”

Grumblethump blinked.

“But I can't leave this spell unattended. I must remain with it lest it lose all potency,” she hinted.

Grumblethump again blinked.

“If only there were someone who could aid me...”

Grumblethump scratched his nose... and blinked.

“Someone to... help me,” she amended.

“Grumblethump help!” the ogre announced, rocking on his heels with sudden excitement. “Grumblethump help real good!”

Isavol smiled to her glad helper and said, “Oh would you then? You just need to go to the marshes downstream of Silvertoad Creek... the stream just outside... and find for me the fattest salamander you can. Then bring it back to me here and I would be ever so grateful, darling Grumblethump.”

"Me go right away!” he nodded fervently and turned to bound from the chamber. “Grumblethump fetch pretty witch biggest sala-... salabanden....”

“Salamander,” Isavol corrected. “Come and see.” She glanced to the bookshelves and from it floated a rather large volume of The Arcane Apothecary. Slightly wary of the flying book, the ogre slowly made his way to the table upon which it settled and opened. “See there, Grumblethump? The creature with the long tail? That is a sal-a-man-der.”

Grumblethump nodded and replied, “Mhmm. Pretty picture... like pictures on Grumblethump.”

Isavol looked to the bands of iconic tattoos covering the ogre's torso and arms and her eyes lost some of their light. “Those are the marks of an ogrynn warrior are they not?”

Grumblethump looked to his arms and down at the prominent, compass-like symbol in the center of his chest. “This one say Grumblethump from Bloodstone Clan. Me no read. Am told.”

The Green Sorceress eyed the inked rune upon his chest and knew it to be the symbol for the Chaos Gods, who reared the monstrous ogrynn as killers like one might raise a pit-fighting dog. To think of so many souls being harnessed for such wickedness, she could not hide her sadness. “What wrong?” Grumblethump asked, his eyes now showing concern of their own.

“Nothing, dear, sweet creature,” she answered. “Do you know what the others mean?”

“Hmmmm,” he pondered inspecting his tattoos. “This one say am fool... am rabbit-spawn.”

“Rabbit-spawn?”

He nodded and traced the crude lines with one enormous finger. “Me set momma rabbit free from trap... her belly fat with bunnies. Me no want to kill baby bunnies so me let momma bunny go. Ogres say me weak... fool... bunny-spawn. Like this one say me coward. This one say mother a toad.” As he said these things, without realizing it himself, he rapped upon his head, chest and shoulders with his mighty fists. And from these antics Isavol realized the ogres did much more than call him names and brand his flesh with insults. His innate goodness, something the gods of disorder had not been able to drive from his soul, had made him a pariah among his own kind. It was no wonder he was wandering the hillsides alone only to fall prey to merciless villagers.

“Oh, no, no, no,” she interrupted. “I fear you've been lied to, Grumblethump. That one says your heart is as strong as an oak. And that does not say you are a coward. They must have read it backwards. It says you are brave. In fact, it says you are the most valiant, courageous ogre in all the land!”

His eyes widened and sparkled. “Really?” he cooed. Isavol nodded with a proud smile. “Ogres read skin pictures wrong?” Again she nodded. “Oh thank you, pretty witch! Big dumb ogres no read right! Ha-ha! Me go find you biggest, fattest saladamder in whole world! Just for you, pretty witch!” And with that he hurried from the chamber and out of her tower and towards the marshes by way of Silvertoad Creek.

I feel bad for poor lil' Grumblethump.

He's so naive, and so kind. Great story. Eager to see next chapter!

* * *

Looking back over his shoulder, Grumblethump smiled at the lofty, ivy-laden tower jutting up from the hillside. Formed from stone and wood but blended together as naturally as the countryside upon which it stood, the eminent spire dwarfed every other feature of the landscape. But its beauty, prominence and architecture were not what aroused his cheer. It was Isavol's tower and that meant she was somewhere inside it, perhaps behind that very window near the top, and that made him smile. He had never before known the sensation he now felt but he could certainly become accustom to it. He tried to think of a word that fit the warmth and lightness pervading from his belly to tingle every muscle across his frame. He pondered his limited if not stunted vocabulary for some term to define the childlike giddiness on the verge of overwhelming him. Certainly there was a great, big, beautiful word for this marvelous sensation! A word he would never be able to pronounce and would never even attempt to read, but one that the pretty witch, the Green Sorceress, Isavol knew all too well. For she had created this feeling in him. She had inspired this angst-filled, giggling fervor. It was like a spell, something of which she was surely capable, but he believed it was not so. It came from within him, something like a distant memory he had all but forgotten and she had merely coaxed it from hiding. She had freed it from its bindings within his flesh and shone upon it her tender mercy like the rays of the suns. She had made him... happy! That was the word! He was happy... for the first time in... well at least a long time. Fear was gone. Trouble was a shadow. The air was fresh, the suns were warm and the birds sang just for him! Never had there been a more perfect day for a goodly ogre!

Upon reaching the creek's edge, Grumblethump began to follow it's current all the while keeping an eye out for Isavol's salamander as best as his imagination could give life to the drawing from her book. But no matter how dutifully he searched, he couldn't put a stop the wistful daydreams of contented bliss from slipping into his thoughts. He imagined them dining on wild game in the woods and leaving secret gifts for surprised village children and running through flowery fields chasing colorful butterflies and countless other very non-ogre things. But truth be told, every daydream ended with Isavol placing another soft kiss upon his brow. And in that fantasized moment, his heart seemed as if it would burst! And if someone were there to see it, they might believe they had seen an ogre swoon, which of course is a rather uncommon if not downright bizarre thing to witness.

But on he went, daydreaming and salamander hunting his way down the Silvertoad Creek until at last he reached the broadened wetlands Isavol had described. Clusters of tall, moss-laden trees grew ever more dense and reeds became quite prevalent as the water grew more placid and still. It came up to his thighs now and his boots made a habit of becoming lodged in the soft mud beneath the waters but still he trudged on as he would not allow himself to fail the pretty witch.

Then a sudden streak of orange glinted from his peripheral vision. He spun and faced the flash of color and saw what might very will have been a two-headed salamander as far as he was concerned, but was in fact a pair of the bright orange amphibians in the midst of mating. The ogre gasped at his own luck and made ready to pounce upon the tiny creatures, poising his hands as two sides of a cage trap. He had to be careful. He knew from past experiences, playing with nature's smaller beings could turn fatal if he did not handle them gingerly. So he held his fingers slightly apart and made a conscious effort leave a gap between his hands as he lashed out to ensnare the salamanders.

Splash! He was soaked now, embedded into the soft grasses and mud of a marsh island. But he could feel the lizard-like creatures squirming in his still-enclosed hands. A smile spread across his face at his success and his only concern was for how he would dislodge himself from the mire and still keep hold of his prize. That is, it was his only concern until a guttural, menacing voice resounded, “What have we here? Rabbit-spawn, eh?”

* * *

Grumblethump would have spun to face the dangerous figure if he were not still engulfed by swamp grass and muck. Instead he craned his neck to its limit and sneered, “Eye-Gouger Smart-Head.”

A venomous chuckle preceded his answer. “You recognize my voice? Well then Grumblethump, you'll surely recognize my whip!” A searing pain erupted from Grumblethump's back causing him to howl, which was no small measure. Ogres were renowned for their thick, rock-like hides and it took a bit more than your average leather whip to cause such damage. That particular pain, of which Grumblethump was familiar, came from the stinging barbs that ran the length of an Overlord's Whip.

Overlords, you see, were the human-ogre hybrids placed in charge over ogrynn clans and Eye-Gouger, also known as Smart-Head for his apparent intelligence, had been in command over the Bloodstones for decades now. Known for cruelty above and beyond the standard wickedness common to minions of the Chaos Gods, Eye-Gouger held a certain amount of clout among his fellow Overlords and as such was hard pressed to keep his reputation aloft. This fact coupled with Grumblethump's status as a relative pariah among his clan, it was no small wonder that he knew the Overlord's wrath all too well. It was also no great surprise that the laughter of several other ogres could be heard when Grumblethump's painful wail fell silent. An Overlord would never travel alone.

“Whip again!” one Bloodstone ogre suggested. “Make him cry!” encouraged another.

“Hear that, Rabbit-spawn?” Eye-Gouger snickered. “Your clan-mates have missed you. After all, who is there to save all the food from our cooking pots now?” The whip struck out against Grumblethump's back again, causing him to shriek once more but the spasm that coincided also proved to lessen the earth's grip on him. He took notice and chose to spit in disgust. As expected, it provoked another whiplash and again it brought pain, screams and involuntary movement that proved to move him one step closer to escape from the bog. Eye-Gouger, unaware of the total effect of his lashing, continued to spew his dastardly rhetoric. “And then you ran away,” he said. “Stole away when no one was looking. Stole away and didn't cut a single throat. A pitiful coward, that is what you are. We should have strangled you when you were hatched!” The whip cracked yet again, this time drawing forth blood and the rage of an ogre now free from the muddy clutches of the swamp.

In a terrifying roar, the marsh itself seemed to explode as Grumblethump hurled himself from the water to the opposing bank and upon Eye-Gouger. Shock created a moment's hesitation in the onlooking ogres, which gave Grumblethump just enough time to bring one, enormous, club-like fist down upon Eye-Gouger's forehead. He did not realize that the Overlord's head was resting upon a stone when he struck, so it came as a bit of a surprise when Eye-Gouger's head split open like a cracked egg, spewing forth its bloody contents. A common gasp from the Bloostone ogres echoed Grumblethump's own amazement.

Looking up to Eye-Gouger's cadre with an equally shocked look, Grumblethump's gaped mouth smoothly turned into a wry grin. “Big dumb ogres no read skin pictures right,” he told them. He slapped the tattoo that declared him a coward and said, “Me brave. Me bravest in... in all land!”

Woot!

* * *

“Grumblethump Rabbit-spawn Overlord now!” Cow-choker declared.

Skullcrunch snarled and spat, “Him cheat! Him play stuck in mud when he no stuck!”

“That mean him smart like Smart-Head! Him Overlord!” Gizzardspit explained. Cow-choker, Kill-kill-kill and One-Eye nodded in agreement leaving Skullcrunch quite discontented.

“Me no Overlord,” Grumblethump interrupted, bringing shock and amazement into the ogres' lives once more. “Me serve pretty witch,” he said, pointing in the direction of the tower. “She nice pretty witch. Save Grumblethump life. Me fetch saldamder for her.”

Eight boorish eyes blinked at his words. “Saldamder,” Grumblethump explained, revealing the squashed remnants of the salamanders he had captured. “Pretty witch make big magic,” he bragged. The wary looks to one another ensured his words had the desired effect upon the other ogres. If having killed Eye-Gouger weren't enough, they now had a greater reason to fear him. Magic was perhaps the only thing which ogres could not be certain their strength was capable of defeating. With enough ogres even the largest giant could be beaten. But a single wizard? Well, entire armies had vanished at the hands of such beings and their magicks. “You go home. Me no Overlord,” Grumblethump reiterated, waving a dismissive hand at his former clan-mates.

“But... but Grumblethump be Bloodstone ogre. Grumblethump kill Eye-Gouger Smart-Head. Grumblethump have mating rights! Grumblethump no come home?” Kill-kill-kill wondered. How could any ogre give up the chance to mate and thus father an Overlord? As all ogres were male, and thus more warlike, the right to couple with a human slave was a rare and valued prize. The prestige and status afforded such an ogre set him far above the rest. As a breeding ogre he would have choice of meat from the day's hunt, the largest cave, hut or hovel and... and the right to mate!

Still Grumblethump shook his head. “Grumblethump have new home... with pretty witch. Pretty witch with big magic!” He held his hands outstretched at his sides as if to give a visual perspective on how large Isavol's magic truly was. As a result the ogres were quite impressed. That was a lot of magic! And it seemed to quell Kill-kill-kill's curiosity.

Satisfied by what he heard, Skullcrunch smiled and said, “See? Me Overlord now. Rabbit-spawn strong but him still just whelp. Leave Grumblethump to play with pretty things.” The others chuckled and gave Grumblethump looks of disapproval. Still, stepping around the goo that was once Eye-Gouger's skull, they opted to refrain from angering him outright. And soon Grumblethump stood alone with a handful of crushed salamander.


((Thanks for the comments!))

This story is pure win. Keep writing, I want to see what happens! And how the heck it ties into CoH.

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This story is pure win. Keep writing, I want to see what happens!

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QFT - Grumblethump is one awesome Goodly Ogre

* * *

As macabre as it would seem, Isavol smiled at the grotesque pulp that was once two separate salamanders. “Thank you, Grumblethump,” she said, stroking his forearm gently. “I'm sure this will do nicely.”

Dropping the fleshy mass upon the table beside The Arcane Apothecary, with the image of a healthy salamander still showing, Grumblethump returned her smile. “Am sorry me squish saldamder, pretty witch. Eye-Gouger made me squish saldamder when I squished him.”

“Eye-Gouger?”

He nodded and explained, “Him Overlord of Bloodstones. Grumblethump am... Grumblethump was Bloodstone... now belong to pretty witch.”

“How sweet of you to say, precious creature,” Isavol purred, patting his shoulder before moving to scoop up the dead lizards into a bowl. “But you do not belong to me. You are free, Grumblethump. You belong only to yourself.” A sniffle from the ogre brought her eyes back to Grumblethump's face and she was taken aback to discover tears welling up in the monstrosity's eyes. “Whatever is wrong?”

“Grumblethump... no belong to pretty witch... no belong to Bloodstone... am alone!” And much unlike an ogre he began to sob loud, wet, phlegm-laden sobs.

“Oh my,” the Green Sorceress gasped. “But you dear, sweet thing... you misunderstand me! Here, here... now you calm yourself,” she coaxed, floating to his side and wrapping her arms around his trunk-like neck. “Of course you're not alone, you silly giant. I'm still right here with you... I just mean... I don't own you like I do this tower or that table or that book. No... you are my friend and I care for you... but you are not my property. See?”

“Pretty witch... sniff-sniff... pretty witch Grumblethump friend? Her care?” None of the other words seemed to matter.

It was just too adorable, even coming from a snot-nosed ogre. Isavol melted. “Of course I do. How could I resist such a wonderfully loving salamander hunter?” Then she gave his cheek a peck and the world was right again. Still, there was a question hanging in the air, so Isavol inquired, “Tell me of this Overlord... this Eye-Gouger. And what exactly happened to the salamanders?”

Awwww...

Grumblethump is so pitiful, but so great at the same time. I almost wish he was real. I wouldn't mind hanging out with him.

Grumblethump!(A rough unfinished sketch)
EditA bit of a fix)

...

Beautiful. Simply beautiful. If you're looking for crits, his arms look a bit knobbly. Arms to skinny, muscles too bulbous. Aside from that, great!

CHAPTER TWO:

A jagged horizon of mountaintops stood in stark black profile against the prismatic hues emblazoned across the sky and clouds by the setting suns. The awkward travelers, facing a swiftly approaching night, were forced to make camp.

“This is all your fault, you brainless ogre,” Tantrifax declared. “You move as fast as you think which means of course that we might as well be standing still.” Grumblethump did his best to ignore the callous satyr and continued collecting firewood. “Whatever could Isavol see in a clod like you? Noble spirit indeed. Imagine the likes of the Green Sorceress cavorting with a... a minion of the Dark Gods.”

That had done it. Grumblethump cast an angry glare at Tantrifax and reminded him, “Am Goodly Ogre. No minion. No Dark God. Am pretty witch friend. What you? Bad mouth goat is you.”

“Well you've certainly put me in my place, haven't you? Let's just hope you are capable of making fire. Or does it scare you like any other savage beast?”

This forced the ogre to pause. In honest contemplation he had to admit, at least to himself, that fire wielded by angry villagers was in all actuality quite a frightening thing to him. But certainly there was no need to share this information. He could tell the satyr was far smarter than he was and as such he tried not to respond to the antagonism lest he simply offer up more verbal stones to be slung. The less conversation the better, Grumblethump believed. After all, this partnership was only temporary. Once they had located and recovered the Book of Terrors, wherever the unknown thieves had taken it, he would be done with Tantrifax for once and for all.

The satyr, however intelligent he might have been, did not seem to possess the wherewithal to remain silent. He continued to berate the much larger being. “So how did you come to be the pet of the Green Sorceress? Did she find you under a rock?”

Having never had a pet to know what one was but having been hatched in a cave, which would indeed mean he came from under stone in some fashion, Grumblethump was somewhat confused by the line of inquiry. He looked to Tantrifax and asked, quite simply, “Huh?”

“You and your pretty witch, you dullard; How did you two meet?”

He eyed the satyr suspiciously and replied, “Hush mouth. Goat-man just make fun.”

“Is that so? Well then I'll just have to dream up a story of my own. Let's see... by the looks of you I'd say... you had gotten yourself into a bit of trouble.” He began to pace as he twisted the tips of his chin whiskers. Again Grumblethump tried to ignore. “But what sort of trouble? Something your sluggish wit would not have been capable of circumventing.Well that could mean anything couldn't it?” Chuckling slightly at his own barb, Tantrifax studied the ogre and the clumsy stack of wood to be burned. “Fresh from snogging a nest of troglodytes... you slipped in a pile of your own excrement... and fell down a hole!” Grumblethump's eyes darted to look upon the satyr, shocked by the apparent intuition of the few words the ogre understood. “Ha! I'm right aren't I? Clumsy oaf fell down a hole and Isavol had to pull you out! Hilarious!” Grumblethump growled. “Well she's been known to take in strays, but I don't think anyone would have ever guessed she'd take an ogre as a pet! She must have lost her mind! What a bafoon!”

Eyes closed in mid-laughter, the satyr's hooves left the ground before he could react. Snatched up by the neck and held several feet in the air, fear seized his tongue. “No pet. No minion. Pretty – witch – friend. Goat-man see?” A frightened nod assured Grumblethump that Tantrifax did indeed understand. “Goat-man tease Grumblethump. Is good. Just dumb ogre. But Goat-man no tease pretty witch. No good. Dumb ogre get mad. See?” Again the satyr nodded silently and a satisfied smirk from the ogre prefaced his return to the earth.

Rubbing his throat and taking a few safe steps away, Tantrifax coughed lightly and said, “Well there's certainly no doubting your loyalty, ogre. That's a good thing.” Grumblethump returned to stacking firewood. “Of course I only tease the Green Sorceress. Friends will do that on occasion; tease one another. Yes, she's a great friend to the satyrs. We've been allies for quite some time, you know.” Grumblethump snorted at the verbal backpeddling but did not reply otherwise. Tantrifax seemed compelled by nature to continue though. “Yes, together we vanquished the great dragon Syldon. Whoah, now that was a battle!”

Grumblethump raised a curious eye to the satyr as he fetched two flint rocks from his belt pouch. “Dragon?” he asked.

Tantrifax nodded with a smile and said, “Indeed. And not just any dragon! Syldon was very ancient... and very crafty.”

Striking the two stones together as Isavol had taught him, Grumblethump grinned and opined, “Grumblethump like dragon story.”

“Well then you will love this one! After all, the heroine of the tale is none other than your favorite witch!” Settling down to open a sack of dried fruits, Tantrifax began quite poetically. “It was a balmy night in the swamps of Gundersoll...”

Come on people! Somebody besides me come in to talk about how good this story is!

Truly, it is twenty gallons of awesome in a two gallon jug. I enjoy a good read, and Grumblethump's story makes me smile a good bit!

Edit to say: I'm tagging this story as a favorite thread in the hope it continues for a long time!

Tantrifax rocks. I love obnoxious satyrs, too.

* * *

Vast and sheer and whipped by brutal winds, the mountainside to which they clung was no place for the meek or unsure of foot. Every coming moment offered yet another chance to plummet to certain death. But the travelers had the odds stacked in their favor. The ogre, with flesh born and bred from such stone, carried himself ever upwards hand over hand with only slightly more effort than the cloven-hoofed satyr who nimbly hopped from ledge to ledge like... well, half of a mountain goat. Surely they were gaining on the human thieves and their mystical loot. Tantrifax, being an adept tracker, knew by the footprints below that there were six such men who started to climb this mountain. But one tattered body at the base and one crushed corpse wedged between two boulders a bit further up assured them only four thieves remained.

“I believe I see a cave,” the satyr noted from a short distance above Grumblethump. From midway up the mountain's face, the ogre looked up and craned his neck until he too could spot the ribbon of blackness that seemed to be an opening into the mountain. Something in the pit of his belly told him to be wary but as Tantrifax hopped his way towards the mouth of the cave Grumblethump resigned himself to follow.

From one rock to the next, hand to hand to foot to foot he trailed the bounding satyr until at last they stood side by side looking into the cave. No longer did it seem a ribbon of darkness. In fact what could be seen of the tunnel proved to be quite voluminous. The entrance itself was lit by the midday suns but not much deeper in all light was lost. “Look there,” Tantrifax spoke, pointing to a disturbance in the dust on the cave floor. “Human tracks. They were here... but they did not stay. Looks as if they left in quite a rush. Perhaps they saw us coming up behind them.”

Grumblethump sniffed the air a few times and shook his head. “This giant cave,” the ogre explained. “Mountain giant.” He stepped into the cave just to the edge of the void and reached into it. Retrieving what appeared at first to be a stone, Grumblethump pulled back what became quite a discovery. Ogrynn eyes had distinguished what fairykin eyes could not; a skull.

“That belongs to a mountain cat,” Tantrifax remarked. “And a big one at that.”

Indeed the fangs of the deceased feline were the size of dirks and still bore the bloodstains of its last battle. But Grumblethump simply glanced it over and then tossed it back into the darkness. “Leave quick like humans. Giant come home. Kill us like cat.”

“You're a mind reader,” the satyr chuckled and looked upwards to plan his ascent.

That's when the slightest murmur drifted along the near stagnant air of the cave to land upon Grumblethump's ear. “Huh?” he wondered aloud. Looking towards the darkness he heard it again but this time accompanied by the sound of scratching. To him it sounded like wood on stone. He turned his entirety towards the noise.

Tantrifax, intrigued by the ogre's choice of direction, asked, “What's gotten your attention, ogre?” He was certain the giant had proved to be home already but Grumblethump was not in any sort of hurry and this confused the satyr even more. “Listen here. I prefer my bones with meat on them so if you need me I'll be somewhere near the top of this peak. You hear me?”

Grumblethump waved dismissively at the satyr as to better hear the scratching sound. Yes, it was wood on stone. That was a familiar enough sound to an ogre. But what was that tiny, meek voice saying? It was barely audible but he thought it was speaking in the common tongue. Without too much thought, he stepped into the blackness.

“Now you've done it,” Tantrifax warned. “What was this notion about dead cats you spoke of just a moment ago? Leave quick like humans. Those were your words, Grumblethump.” But then the ogre vanished entirely into the void. His eyes wide and frozen in shock, the satyr could do little more than breathe in heady anticipation.

After a few moments the silence proved daunting. A few moments longer and it became painful. It was as if time and quiet coupled to become a serrated blade with which to fillet Tantrifax's nerves. Then came relief from the silence but it was no relief at all. First a yelp resounded followed by a shriek mixed with a clang. After that came a terrible raucous clamor tinged with wet, woeful grunts. But then as if to overwhelm the satyr there came pure penultimate dissonance; a continuous stream of racket and yelling so loud it became a single, frightful sound. The noise echoed off the cavern walls growing louder and more chaotic until it reached a terrifying crescendo of panic, struggle and cacophonous terror. Then, all at once, the blanketing quiet returned. The satyr was certain his dimwitted comrade was dead and whatever it was that killed the capable ogre, most likely a mountain giant, was now coming for him. But somehow, as much as his mind screamed flight to his every organ and limb, the satyr could not move. He was in fact petrified by fear. Never before had he known such fright. Never before had he been filled by such complete and total dread. But if the sudden stillness of his cohort's demise were not enough to prove his own imminent doom, then came the footsteps.

His right hoof trembled its way backwards but barely. Eyes riveted to the looming shadows, Tantrifax pondered the relevance of his existence. Though well over two-hundred cycles old, he was but a young adult among satyrs. There was so much more he could and should have done. Surely youth such as his did not deserve to be wasted! Peoples and places and celebrations would go on without him! He would be so missed! And for those who would miss him he felt pity. Surely their weeping upon hearing of his demise would rouse inspiration for soulful dirges, solemn requiems and the deepest of mourning. So at least there was that. But what of adventure and love? He had his part in many such tales. Stories, sagas and sonnets of fawns and maidens and battles and treasures and... and dear, sweet friends. There were so many and yet, he became certain, there would have been more. There was more... or there had been... just within those dark shadows, precisely where Grumblethump had fell. Woe and regret filled him to believe he would be leaving all that had loved him. A tear gathered at the edge of his eye.

“Hurry,” certain death suddenly urged from the darkness. It was advancing one solid step at a time. Tantrifax's breath caught in his throat. “Quick! Must go!” it whispered harshly yet again. The satyr was absolutely stymied. Who was the giant talking to? Could there be two such monsters in this cave now? “Run, dumb goat-man! Run!” death insisted.

But then Tantrifax was struck. What had it called him? Goat-man? “Grumblethump?”

An enormous, horn-tipped leather boot emerged from the darkness, followed shortly after by a trunk-like leg wrapped in hides. Less than an instant later a mass of gray, rock-like flesh appeared shaped exactly like an ogre's torso complete with two thick ogre arms. And cradled in those arms, beneath two bright, watchful yellow eyes was a slight waif of a tattered figure.

“You're alive!” Tantrifax declared.

“Huh?” the ogre wondered as he had not realized such a thing had been in question. Shaking off the baffling satyr's announcement, he simply said, “Baby elf girl need help. Hurry, make quick and go.”

“What's that?” Tantrifax eyed the slender bundle in Grumblethump's arms but just as he asked the ogre's words sank in. “Oh! My word, yes!” Turning quickly about, the satyr prepared to begin assessing their decent but was immediately distracted by the absolute largest toe he had ever seen.

The hairs on the knuckles were as thick as rope; the toenails like yellow shields. His toes themselves were the size of wild boars and his ankles were as thick as ancient oaks. Rough and calloused, the mountain giant's feet were not only an instant indicator as to his size but perhaps the best physical representations of his foul if not brutal temper. And as such, a sudden and mighty roar filled the cavern. Like a bird startled from the brush, Tantrifax jumped backwards, his arms flailing wildly. Grumblethump, aware of the delicate bundle in his arms, could not afford such rash movement. Instead, he turned to his left to set the tiny child down so gingerly and carefully upon the cave floor one might never believe he had ever squashed two salamanders with those same hands. Giving her two soft, comforting pats on the head he then looked to his companion to access the satyr's state of mind before setting his sights on the giant's right knee. Tantrifax was pulling forth an assortment of throwing knives. He was choosing to fight.

So, with a roar of his own, Grumblethump hurled himself forward at the giant. The giant, noticing the enormous ogre charging him, snarled, braced himself with a wide stance and brought forth an enormous warhammer to bear. Had his momentum not been a factor, nor his inability to fly, Grumblethump might have leaped into the air and begun to flap his arms. For the only area of the mouth of the cave not filled by giant flesh, besides the gap between his legs where a hammer could easily fall, was the region around his shoulders. Alas, although superb jumpers, ogres were flightless beings and as such he could only continue his attack on the giant's knee and hope the hammer was not well aimed.

His full weight collided with the giant limb as cold iron crashed into the stone beside him. Much to his relief, Grumblethump managed to jar the giant's knee and cause him to stumble even as a glint of spark and a shower of debris coincided. He thought he heard Tantrifax shout something, but the repeated thuds of daggers sinking into the giant's body said more than any words could. Without hesitation, the ogre pressed onward, shoving at the mountain giant's leg until he had the titanic being turned around, its back to the cave.

Alas, in so doing, Grumblethump was unable to evade the hammer's second swipe and took a hard hit to his shoulder, sending him toppling to one side. Curling into an enormous ball and rolling, he was able to dodge yet another hammer strike but was immediately halted by a boulder at the end of the ledge. Springing to his feet, Grumblethump yanked the man-sized stone from its earthen foundation and hurled it at the giant who had turned to face him. Two daggers flew from out of the cave and struck the side of giant's head. Though barely penetrating its dense skull, the dual blades proved to distract just enough that the boulder slammed solidly into its chest. Stumbling backwards, it put all its weight upon the same knee Grumblethump had injured just moments before and yelped as it fell backwards. Spotting an assured opportunity, the ogre rushed forward once again. Charging as he had before, roaring loudly and building swift momentum, this time he opted for the high attack and leaped for the giant's shoulders. Arcing through the air, Grumblethump splayed his limbs and created of himself an even larger projectile than the boulder had been. With a dust-raising slap, he crashed into the giant and the towering being was shoved backwards even farther. So far in fact that he spilled over the opposing ledge and both enormous creatures fell from the side of the mountain.

Bones were snapped and flesh was torn as the ogre and the giant careened and crashed and plummeted their way down the mountainside. From one crunching collision to the jarring next, they bounced from stone to painful stone, all the while entangled, twisting and fighting. Fortunately for Grumblethump, most of the mountain's damage was inflicted upon the larger of the pair as the giant was able to provide ample cushioning. Still, it could not be said that the ogre went unhurt. As chance would dictate, he also played the role of cushion with the added distress of the giant's crushing weight upon him. At last, settling at the base of the mountain in a bloody heap, both were rather surprised to discover they were still alive. Shock and the slow perception of mountain pain orbited their wits. Then, almost in unison, idea that the other still lived suddenly occurred to both of them. And, with what limbs they could still move, the fight ensued once more.

Tantrifax, looking down from far above, still held two daggers for the throwing as if he might still help his larger comrade. Alas, all he could see at the moment was the slowly drifting cloud of dust thrown up by the falling battle. “Grumblethump!” he hollered but his own echo was his only reply. “You blessed fool!” He could hardly believe what he had just seen. The ominous ogre, a living weapon forged by the Chaos Gods, had just offered up his life for a satyr and an elf child. Incredible!

He turned to look at the elf. It was a girl, perhaps a meek twenty years of age at most. She was practically an infant by elven standards. “Are you alright, wee one?”

Curled around her own knees where Grumblethump had set her down, she looked up to the satyr with large blue eyes and nodded softly.

“Well, I should get you far away from here. It's hard to say if such a fall could kill such a giant.” He could not place such even odds for an ogre but he kept such a thought from his mind. Instead he stepped towards the tiny elf who gasped and shied away. “Never you fear, wee one. Uncle Tantrifax is here to help you.”

A sudden roar from below did nothing to support his words. In fact, it turned both pairs of eyes into larger ovals and hurried the satyr's motion to scoop up the child. “That's twice now he's fooled me into thinking he was dead. But by that particular sound I'm guessing they're both still alive.” he thought. “At least for the moment. Come now.”

She refrained from arguing with the satyr when it came to the idea of facing the giant once again. Of the ogre, however, she was not quite sure what to think. He had smashed open her cage, much to her screaming displeasure, but in the end only freed her from it. She of course had believed she would be devoured immediately. But instead she had been treated with gentle kindness. His every touch had been purposely soft. And what had she seen in his eyes before he attacked the giant? Had that been compassion? Caring? From a monster? She wanted to ask how that could be. Still, fear held her tongue and she simply relented to Tantrifax's arms and began to sing to herself.

Tantrifax looked to the traumatized girl and smiled sadly. What horrors had such a small thing witnessed? But he shook the thought from his head. He stepped to the ledge and looked down. The dust cloud had drifted away and below he could see the vague blur of motion below. The battle still raged.

They both leaped for the hammer simultaneously. It had fallen from the giant's grip at some point during their descent and managed to place itself devilishly between both combatants. Alas, the less wounded ogre proved an instant quicker and as his fingers wrapped around its hilt he brought it hard and directly upwards where the giant's head now hung. Like the sound of a dropped sack of gravel, the giant's jaw crunched. The immediate welling of tears brought to its eyes blinded it as it stumbled backwards very much stunned. Grumblethump, a bit slower to put his weight on his broken left leg, gritted his teeth and took one solid step so as to put that painful weight behind a horizontal strike landing on the giant's knee. Again came the sound of pulverized bone but this time it was accompanied by a grim howl of agony and followed by a blind but successfully thrown punch. As such, Grumblethump was pitched to his side and the two fell to the earth once more.

Using the hammer as an enormous and heavy cane, Grumblethump shoved himself back to his feet only to have one of them snagged and yanked by the outreaching giant. Tugged closer to the enormous being and nearly toppling once more, the ogre swung with all his strength, arcing the weapon up over his head and bringing it down with swift fierceness. Alas, he struck flat soil beside the giant's head. Surely a death knell had been missed. But again he was tugged and Grumblethump found himself on his back with one leg held aloft as the giant began a feeble attempt to stand. It was then he realized he had let go of the hammer and was in danger of being hoisted out of reach from it. So he seized it with both hands and as he felt himself leave the ground entirely he struck out with it again and sank its massive bulk into the giant's only good leg. The snap and the cry that resounded might have come from a hundred such giants but in truth was but one and its many echoes. And for the third time, both battlers collided with the ground but this time, only one would be able to stand again. Grumblethump would have no more of it. He growled and lunged at the giant, swinging the hammer over his head once again but this time he did not miss. When the hammer struck earth again it was through a gory heap of blood, skull bone and brain matter. The giant was dead.

Breathless and injured, Grumblethump collapsed. Still, his mind raced realizing he had survived. The rage and fury spawned by fear sent spasms through his limbs and sickened his stomach. But he could only lay there and try to recall what world had existed before his battle with a mountain giant. Hammer blows and a whirlwind of imagery connected to his fall down the mountainside dominated his mind's eye as his nostrils were filled with the scent of blood, both his own and the giant's. He felt the hammer in his hand and was certain it had not been a dream from which he had just awoke. Then he heard a voice, soft yet annoying and he remembered why he had taken on such an opponent.

“My word, you bestial fool,” Tantrifax virtually whispered. But then, having noticed one heaving breath from the ogre, he shouted, “You're alive! You did it! We were certain you were very much dead... for the second time today I might add... but you're alive!”