HAHAHAHA - being used as a tool of assassination by the Chaotic Gods ...
I'm just speculating!
* * *
King Tzaemaard lay at Grumblethump's feet. Lifeless. His skull crushed. Blood and gore was spattered across the dais and coated the ogre's still-clenched fists. But for the life of him, Grumblethump could not understand why this was so or how it came to be. Stunned and bewildered, he only knew that everything had gone terribly wrong. A suffocating vacuum of silence gave the moment even more severity. Then he heard a woman scream and reality slammed back in a whirlwind of activity.
The polished knight, who had been standing at the queen's side, was now holding two swords, one of which Tzaemaard had been prepared to give to Grumblethump, and with them both he was poised to strike. Likewise several other knights were storming the dais, weapons readied to kill. The onlooking crowd, which had only one moment before been praising the ogre, were now shrieking and scrambling in every direction and calling for his destruction. But all the witless ogre could do was look up, beyond the polished knight, to Isavol and her tear-filled expression of woe and horror. She was murmuring to herself. He could not hear her. The calamity had bred cacophony and chaos had taken root. He could only stand there, await his certain death and try to say, Grumblethump so sorry. Grumblethump don't know.
And then, as sword and spear and spit alike converged upon him, a flash of light filled his vision only to be replaced by that peaceful, rhythmically undulating, pastel void as he had experienced what seemed like a lifetime ago. And again a familiar sensation of weightlessness seized him and calm overcame him. Then soon, like it had before, sleep conquered his consciousness and he drifted into a dreamless torpor.
When next he woke, he found himself laying in the library of Isavol's tower. He immediately recognized the place and it brought a smile to his lips. It had all been a nightmare! No long journey. No mongrelmen. No dragon and no dead king. He was safe at home with his precious pretty witch. But then he heard a sob and it forced him to bolt upright. There he found Isavol weeping, a large volume of text splayed before her.
What wrong, pretty witch? He looked around curiously. The library was disheveled. Books and mystical accouterments were scattered everywhere. Then, when she looked up at him, her eyes a sea of tears, he realized it had been no dream. The king was dead and Grumblethump had killed him. But... what happened? Why Grumblethump kill big king? He could not stop his own tears from spilling down his cheeks.
She ran to him and leaped upon him, wrapping her arms around his neck and wailing as he had never guessed she could. What horrible bastards! she roared. To craft such a wholesome creature for such insidious ends!
In-insid-....? Grumblethump stammered.
You're a weapon, ogre, Tantrifax growled from behind. Grumblethump turned to face the satyr, Isavol still clinging to his torso. The Dark Gods, he explained pointing to the symbol on Grumblethump's chest, made you. They forged you, or wove you like a lie. The look in Tantrifax's eyes held contempt and rage. They put a puppy's soul in a monster's flesh and dangled you out like bait for the Green Sorceress. But the puppy turned out to be a war dog.
Hush, Tantrifax! Isavol demanded, releasing Grumblethump and turning to face the satyr. It's not his fault. He did not ask to be made and he would never ask to be made for such a use.
No ogre ever asked to be an ogre. That still doesn't change what they are... in their hearts.
Grumblethump groaned as the satyr's verbal blade sank into him. He stumbled back and fell upon his rump. Big, dumb, nasty, bad, bad ogre!
Don't you dare say that, Tantrifax! Isavol shrieked. You know as much as I that his heart is pure! They made him just so! Taking in a deep breath, she fought to calm herself. Then she turned to Grumblethump and reached out a hand to stroke his jaw. Smiling ever so softly to him, she said, But even if they made it so, even if they made him so... beautiful... it does not change the fact that he is beautiful... and good... and noble... and my dearest friend. Grumblethump looked up at her and tried to match her smile. They killed Tzaemaard, not Grumblethump... not you, sweet creature.
Tell that to Prince Gathwain and the people of Firdraasmoth, Tantrifax hissed and turned to look out the window. Tell that to her.
Grumblethump stood and stepped sideways to be able to see out the same window. And there, sitting atop a flowered hill just an acre from the tower, sat Pencimyss. Even from that distance, her glum, solemn grief was apparent. Though they were not visible, Grumblethump could see her tears. No, he hoarsely whispered. No hurt baby girl.
She'll come to understand, Isavol tried to explain. She's confused... and rightly so. But rest assured, noble beast, she still loves you. That perhaps makes the pain all the greater. But it also makes the healing so much easier.
Grumblethump go to baby girl, the ogre whined.
Isavol shook her head. Not just yet. Let her sort out what I have already told her. Let her make sense of it for herself.
Then what... what Grumblethump do now?
Isavol turned back to the table strewn with books. That is precisely what I am trying to discover. The Dark Temple has won a major victory. One that outweighs the loss of a dragon. They have felled the great king and planted poison in the very heart Firdraasmoth. I fear the people will have lost confidence... lost faith. I won't lie to you. They believe you should be brought to pay with your life for the death of the King. And no words will dissuade them. They believe your end would be justice and would bring vigor back to their forces.
If dead Grumblethump help, then Grumblethump die, the ogre nodded. Good people can kill Grumblethump.
I know you'd give your life for them. And they would certainly take it believing they would get something from it. But this is an untruth. Such undeserved vengeance would do nothing but end one more life. The responsibility now lies with the Prince. Grumblethump thought of the polished knight and realized now who he was. He will need to lead his people back into the light and the strength it provides. I do not envy him that task.
And your task, m'lady? Tantrifax interrupted. Or should I say... our task?
Isavol looked to the satyr and then to her books. Our duty now, she said, is to find a place for Grumblethump; a place where the Dark Gods can't have him anymore and his countenance is not a threat. We must find for him a place where he can be free to be himself; a good and wholesome being who only wants to help.
Masterful. 
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
-SCORE!!!!!!!!!!!-
My speculations were correct.
Which means, I'm not allowed to speculate anymore 
* * *
I've never seen anything like it, Tantrifax remarked with a tense tone of astonishment. From the library's window he could see another unit of pikemen taking up position to guard the flanks of the central army of knights, which had originally arrived to lay siege to the tower. Alas, when the Dark Templars and their motley horde of beasts and monstrosities arrived, a single ogre suddenly seemed less threatening to the armies of Firdraasmoth. The death of Grumblethump the Fiend, as he was now called, would have to wait.
The Fiend, himself, was peering through a small crack in the door in the hopes of catching Penicmyss ascending or descending the spiraling stairwell running the height of the tower. She was still quite angry with the timid ogre and avoided the library where Isavol kept him as she prepared what was proving to be quite a massive incantation. His heart ached so just to see his precious, tiny friend. Even though she most likely understood what had happened to him better than he did, himself, her grasp upon her frustration with the situation remained solid. And as such she still opted to keep her distance from the indirect cause of her tenuous dissatisfaction and had taken to pouting in her own tiny bedroom below the library.
Leave her be, noble beast, Isavol sighed. Come. I need your help. Of course he turned to aid her without hesitation. With eager eyes he looked over the spell components gathered atop the table awaiting some form of mysterious assembly. Take this stone in your right palm... your right hand... the other one. Yes, that's your right. Now in your left hand hold on to this stone. Very good. Grumblethump rolled the rock over and over in his left hand. It had the look, feel and smell of metallic ore but it had a plethora of tiny holes running through it. He looked back to the Green Sorceress curiously. She smiled back at him and answered his unspoken query. Yes, it's a strange one. It's a piece of star-stone that fell from the sky. So the spirits akin to it should prove to be just as strange as its appearance. But surely they can be coerced as can any other. And their insight into the worlds beyond our own will be invaluable. Now just hold on to them for a while. Let the elements become attuned to your own spirit. Let them get to know you.
Raising his eyebrows in wonderment he lifted the rocks up below his face and said quite earnestly, Hullo rocks. Grumblethump want to be friends.
Very good, Isavol chuckled, returning to whatever concoction needing blending next.
Tantrifax could only sigh and mumble, He talks to rocks and pines for an elven lass. What a fiend indeed.
I beg you never use that foul lie of a name in this tower again, darling Tantrifax, the Green Sorceress scowled as she tapped at a paper envelope to dispense just a hint of frog-hide mushroom spores to the mixture in a stone mortar. Never lifting her eyes from the delicate procedure before her she added, He's as much a fiend as I am a... a....
Goose! Grumblethump chimed.
Aye, she smiled. A goose. Look. Nary a feather on me. She tucked away the envelope of spores and retrieved the pestle with which to mix the contents together. Now... we're very nearly ready. Grumblethump, dear... She moved from around the table and reached up to take the ogre by his massive shoulders. Then, as if she had the strength to move him, she guided his steps to the center of the room. Stand here and keep hold of those stones. I'll begin writing the runes.
From the table she took the mortar and the powder therein and then took a cup of water with a painter's brush sticking from it. Dipping the brush into one and then the other and circling the ogre as she scribed the mystical characters, she began writing out a mixture of spells from various librams and tomes. Partly a summoning incantation combined with a binding ward infused with a beguiling charm, she wrote, spoke and willed the spell into slow existence. All the while Grumbelthump and Tantrifax looked on in silent, cautious wonder.
And they did this for quite some time until at last the Green Sorceress stood. She looked over her handiwork again and then nodded with satisfaction. Very well, she said and looked to the curious ogre. Set the stones there and there, she instructed, pointing to two small circles she had drawn by his feet. He did so and promptly began to fidget. Fear not, humble hero, Isavol cooed. And then, closing her eyes, she began to incant. After some time the stones at Grumblethump's feet began to radiate a faint, purplish glow as the energy of her mysticism began to manifest. Hairs stood on end and the air almost seemed to sizzle. One could not help but notice that they were now bathed in raw magical power. Then, without warning and in a sudden flash of miniature lightning, two anthropomorphic heaps of stone, one granite and the other star-stone, appeared within the circles at Grumblethump's feet.
Who are you? the star-stone elemental immediately inquired, its voice an hypnotic warble.
She is the Green Sorceress, the granite elemental replied before Isavol could introduce herself. It's own voice was like the grating of two stones against each other. A primordial witch.
What's she want? whined the star-stone spirit. By its hunkered shoulders it seemed put upon and rather bothered. Isavol tried not to laugh.
How should I know?
Well you're from here, aren't you? Go ahead. Ask her what she wants.
Not waiting for a direct inquiry, Isavol stepped up and declared, I beg of you both a favor. One with which comes a promise and a feast of essential force.
Go on, warbled the star-stone spirit as its morose tone was replaced by an inquisitive one.
Behind you stands Grumblethump... a kind and gentle soul. The two spirits turned to look up at the massive ogre then looked back to Isavol for her to continue. I ask of you to carry him from this place and to protect him and deliver him unto a realm more befitting his... condition. Grumblethump looked sadly to his pretty witch but stayed silent as he had to trust her.
Condition? What do you mean? Being an ogre? the granite elemental wondered. That's hardly a condition. More of an existence. And I've never heard of a place that wants more ogres. Even a realm of ogres wouldn't want more ogres. The star-stone spirit nodded.
I mean to say that he is unique among ogres. As you might have noticed, he is no monster. His spirit is one of grace not malevolence. And as such, it leaves him hated by both ogrynn-kind and the other creatures of the chaotic as well as humanity and the creatures of the light. He is... endangered on all sides. And as my... She looked to him with now tearful eyes. ...my dearest friend, I wish him free from harm and through you two I beg it be made just so.
I am of this world. I can not carry him away. So what would you have of me?" the granite spirit asked, seeming rather greedy and childish. How might I earn a feast?
Of you, proud spirit of Hyanthis, I ask you protect him. That you bind yourself to the stone of his flesh and keep him safe from harm as best you can.
The granite spirit thought for a moment then replied, This I can do. Though, as you know, from his forces I must feed.
I understand, she said. As long as he has a place to live.
The star-stone spirit turned and looked at Grumblethump again. From toe to head and back down again he studied the ogre from some time until he finally said, There is no physical realm within which safety is garaunteed. He is mortal after all.
I understand, she said and amended, I mean to say... a place where he can be free to be himself. He requires a place where his soul of sincerity can outshine his visage of menace; a place where he might do some good as is his truest want.
Hmmmm, the star-stone elemental pondered. You ask for much.
Look upon me now, kind spirit. Look upon me and sense my power. Have a taste of it and then answer my request.
After a moment it replied, Very well. We shall carry him from this world and to another. But he may have either peace or fulfillment. One or the other. Not both. Choose now and he shall be carried away.
Isavol looked to Grumblethump and smiled wistfully. He looked back sadly, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears. She cupped his hand with her own and rubbed her cheek against his rough fingers. It is your choice, sweet creature. What will you have?
He tilted his head to one side and blinked. Grumblethump want to help pretty witch forever.
Yes and you will no matter where you are. Just so long as you exist in this cosmos you will be of benefit to me, noble ogre. But tell me, if you had your pick, which you do, what would it be? A place where there is no war, no pain and no death... or a place where there are such terrible things but where you might help bring them to an end? Again she realized she had been too verbose. She simplified her words by saying, Do you want to go where people are happy or do you want to help people who are sad?
This he understood. He looked up to the ceiling and he seemed to contemplate as best he could. Then, after some time, he smiled softly again and replied, Grumblethump help.
Isavol returned his smile and kissed his palm. Here, she said, retrieving a tiny scrolled piece of paper from her robes. Applying a dollop of sap from a jar on her table to one edge of the note she then motioned for him to lean forward and then pressed it against his chest. The sap, acting as bond, adhered to the ogre and she waved a hand over its face, finalizing the magic written upon it. Then she turned to the star-stone elemental and said, There you have it, kind spirit. He chooses fulfillment.
Very well, it groaned. It's a bit farther out of the way but so be it. Ogre, take my hand.
Hold on! Tantrifax interrupted. All attention turned to the satyr who was struggling to drag the giant hammer across the floor. If he's off to save a world, he'll need this.
Grumblethump's eyes grew teary as he smiled to the satyr. He reached out a hand and patted Tantrifax's head. You nice for big mouth goat man. He then reached down and took up the hammer, slinging it upon his shoulder.
Yeah, well you're a damn fine monstrosity, you giant-felling, elf-saving, dragon-slaying clod, Tantrifax said through sniffles. Now go on before you grate my very last nerve.
Turning to Isavol, Grumblethump blinked and wiped at his own tears and asked, Pretty witch?
Yes, sweet creature?
Tell baby girl Grumblethump miss baby girl? Tell baby girl Grumblethump...always love baby girl?
Tell me yourself! Pencimyss cried and charged from the doorway to leap upon Grumblethump who dropped his hammer and wrapped his massive arms around her but stopped short of crushing her outright. Oh Grumby I'm so sorry! I'm such a fool! I love you too! I'll never forget you!
Grumblethump love baby girl more than both suns... more than whole sky! Grumblethump never forget baby girl too. Grumblethump promise to always think of baby girl... and pretty witch... and goat man. Grumblethump make proud! Nary a mortal eye remained dry.
Ahem, warbled the star-stone spirit. And so Pencimyss slowly slithered from Grumblethump's grasp and stepped around the elementals to smile up at him. Behind her Tantrifax and Isavol gathered, arms around each other and they looked upon him with immense cheer as he held out a massive hand which both spirits took.
You're born of stone, it noted. That should make things easier. Don't worry. You'll be safe with me. And I dare say you're about to see things no ogre of this realm has ever seen. And then the purple glow surrounding the elementals began to encompass Grumblethump until the three of them became united by its umbra.
Looking back up to his friends, Grumblethump smiled broadly and stood stoically upright like a good champion should but much like a small elemental would prefer he did not. With two spirits dangling from one hand, he patted his chest with the other and declared, Grumblethump leave heart here with friends. Grumblethump come back for heart one day.
We'll keep it safe, sweet creature and await your return, Isavol answered and covered her mouth with one hand as he, his hammer and his spirit guides faded from sight and into the astral realm. I love you, she whispered and he was gone.
A PROLOGUE:
A single sun hung in the blue sky through which flew a silver dragon that breathed fire backwards! On all sides he was surrounded by gleaming towers that dwarfed those of Firdraasmoth like Firdraasmoth dwarfed the Fairy Kingdom. Giant insects with humans inside roared past him and, perhaps the most amazing thing of all, great stone giants, larger than any he had ever seen, stood about poised to protect the voluminous castle or carry things about like the one giant with the great big ball on his back. Everything was just amazingly alive and in motion! He couldn't keep his eyes or his mind focused on a single thing.
But then came a shout. Leave me alone! a woman screamed. That's all the money I have!
Grumblethump looked to find a horned being, what looked like a cross between a goblin and a human, yanking on an old woman's purse with the woman still entangled in said purse. This disturbed the ogre. But then the half-goblin jerked so hard that the poor old lady fell face first on the ground and Grumblethump, being Grumblethump, reacted as Grumblethump would. Goblin stop now! he roared and took his hammer in both hands. So that would be the day Paragon City was suddenly gifted with Grumblethump, the Goodly Ogre.
Very, very nice. So then, dare we expect more? 
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
((Eventually. I need to get permission from another character's owner and I really want to work on a story for actual publication. So maybe somewhere down the road I'll do more Grumby stuff. But I gotta say thank y'all for all the encouragement! I think this is the first "short story" or "serial" or what have you I've finished and of which I was proud. The responses had a lot to do with my want to both complete such a story and to write it longer than originally intended (originally he would have been sent to Paragon after first meeting Isavol and this last PROLOGUE bit would come soon after) so consider yourselves muses. Plus I have to admit I've gotten a little emotionally attached to the big lovable oaf so it has been a pleasure and something I'm sure I'll want to revisit. THANKS ALL Y'ALL!!!))
Jeez, another great piece of prose. CoH seems to be full of talented writers. Brilliant work, Ziggy. I had a vague idea of where this would end up at the very end when Grumblethump got his hammer, but really, for most of the time I was reading, I forgot I was even on the CoH forums, or any forum, really. The story was really engrossing IMO.
Virtue 50s:
Ice/Ice Blaster, Fire/Fire Dominator, Mind/Emp Controller, Shield/Axe Tanker, Spines/Regen Scrapper, Rad/Pain Corruptor, Petless Thugs/Traps MM(WHY!?), Widow
A zillion alts on Virtue and elsewhere.
((Fantasy's not my thing, which is odd if you look at my avatar. But I love reading about goodly characters like Grumblethump. He was so endearing! Thanks for posting this, Ziggy.))
#69397 Get Grog a Drink!
#155312 No Good Deed Goes Unrewarded
#229565 Take Back the Park! (lowbie friendly)
Praetor of the [url="http://www.forgottenlegion.net"]Forgotten Legion[/url] SG and mod for the HUB player community. All hail the mighty Grog!
I for one hope for more tales of Grumblethump and of his freinds in another realm. Some day I would hope to hear the tale of the big lug and his tiny elf girl getting back together. But that is for much later. If Grumblethump needs any assistance on his journey, put a server up on this page and we will see what we can do. For now thank you Ziggy for "the ride", somewhat bumpy but totally enjoyable. More please when you can
This was truly great writting, and this from a guy who has over 700 fantasy novels in his personal library. It was terrific and I look forward to anything else you write.
Wow! Thanks!
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Heh, as I was reading this a friend of mine walked by with the most interesting remark. I can't wait to see if he's right. Got me on the edge of my seat here...
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And I have to ask... So? Was he right?
I want my Grumblethump action figure nao! :O where can I buy it for at least $25 ??
We're still working on the Saladamder-squashing grip.
* * *
As if a storm had erupted within the Great Hall, the thunderous applause and booming cheers of the attending populace stymied and bewildered the ogre until he was not quite sure what emotion they were expressing. Was this what human approval was like? Their brilliant eyes and beaming smiles were such an alien display to his eyes, as much as clapping was a never-before-seen act, and part of him believed the people of Firdraasmoth had gone mad. Indeed with such enthusiastic adoration as they had for their heroes coupled with the relief of surviving a dragon attack, Pencimyss, seated upon one, broad ogrynn shoulder, began to believe the same thing.
They've lost their minds, she murmured. Grumblethump looked up to her, unable to hear her words over the fanfare as they walked the aisle between human seas towards the king's vaulted throne. Realizing even ogrynn ears could not hear such low tones in the festive cacophony, she merely patted his scalp and teased his lengthy white topknot.
Tantrifax, seated upon the opposite shoulder (much to his chagrin), did manage to see her words via her lips and expression. As such, he smirked. Aye, little one! he shouted. They're mad! They're crazed! They're enthralled! But more precisely, they've fallen in love! He nodded down towards Grumblethump and chuckled. So how do you feel, you great, big, thick-as-a-stone hero?
I-I-I... They... Feel good! he bellowed, the bounce of his step matching his emotion. Look! Pretty witch sits with big king! His pair of living epaulets followed the direction of his pointing finger and saw as he did, seated beside King Tzaemaard, opposite the Queen, upon a chair of bronze, a bandaged but quite pleased Isavol.
Tantrifax laughed haughtily and slapped his knee. What? You think she'd miss your day of honor? Give her some credit, ogre! She came back from death to be here!
Grumblethump waved to Isavol and smiled so immensely his face began to ache. His gait began to bounce higher and higher so that the elf and satyr upon his broad shoulders feared they might fall. Each took hold of the other from around Grumblethump's trunk-like neck for balance as an acre of aisle passed swiftly below them. But Grumblethump could barely notice their plight as he strode eagerly toward the Green Sorceress and her approbatory eyes. Such was his love and admiration, the rest of the room and its hundreds if not thousands of people vanished.
Whoah now, you monstrous puppy! Tantrifax laughed as Pencimyss squealed with delight.
Pretty witch white again! Look how pretty!
Yes, yes! That she is! But remember where we are and what you must do! Go to the king and bow before him! This is what they told you to do! Tantrifax pleaded. You'll have all the time in the world to smother your pretty witch with hugs after the celebration!
It was then that a blast of horns broke their conversation and marked Grumblethump's arrival at the foot of the dais upon which sat the royalty of Firdraasmoth. Amid them he now noticed, standing beside the Queen, was a very bold-looking young man donning a suit of gleaming plate armor. The ogre, even amid this ostentatious display, could not keep his eyes off the very noble figure and his noticeably polished attire even as Tantrifax and Pencimyss hopped down from their perches and not even when King Tzaemaard began to speak. And, it seemed, the young man could not remove his eyes from the ogre, though one might describe it more as a glare.
People of Firdraasmoth! the regal lord announced. The Gods of Creation have looked down upon us and found us worthy! As such, they have sent us a great and wonderful gift! He paused for applause and then continued. Carried in the arms of the great Green Sorceress, he said motioning to Isavol, wrapped in stony flesh and bearing cards from the fair folk of the Fey, he looked to Pencimyss and Tantrifax, this present from on high came as unexpectedly as watching a dragon fall from the sky! Now the cheering came as a roar and the Great Hall seemed to quake under the reverberative stress. But what else could we expect from our Gods? They deal in the unexpected now don't they? The king laughed along with his people. But unexpected or not, our gratitude can not be measured. We owe our kingdom... our homes... our very lives to this noble soul! Look to him now and give praise! Before you stands Grumblethump! Your champion! The room erupted in applause and cheer yet again and again the voluminous room shook. Wincing slightly, Grumblethump turned towards the crowd with a weak, unsure smile. He couldn't quite fathom, even with such an obvious display, how long this tide of cheer would flow. Surely it would ebb and carry their tolerance back out to sea, leaving only the desolate beach of their hatred.
Gesturing for silence, the King stood from his throne bearing a brilliant smile. He looked to his right and from the side of the stage stepped a squire carrying a polished silver sword. The crowd gasped and a great many murmurs combined to form a strange hum. That was the sword of a Knight of Firdraasmoth. Though I can't believe these words come from my own mouth, I now honestly, humbly and with great pleasure do say... Grumblethump, still facing the crowd, seemed to sway slightly and those nearest to him looked back at him queerly. From Tantrifax's and Pencimyss's vantage they could see a very glazed look wash over the ogre's eyes. Noble ogre, please step forward.
Grumblethump turned back towards the dais and the king. This is when Isavol noticed the ogre's strange expression for herself. Whereas a moment before he had seemed jovial and splendidly humbled, he now seemed distant, remote and perhaps dazed. No, he seemed... vacant. She sat upright and looked to Tantrifax with curious eyes. The satyr could only shrug. Had the pressure of so much affection overcome him? Was he drunk? She sought out his mind with her own, as she had done from within the dragon's mouth. But to her bewilderment she discovered his mind was not as it had been then but more like the dragon's. And then, perhaps too late, she realized what was happening.
No! shrieked the Green Sorceress and all eyes turned to her. Even Tzaemaard turned away from the ritual to look to her as she hurled herself from her seat. And because of this, King Tzaemaard the Bull of Firdraasmoth never saw the ogre's terrible blow.