Brave Olgiherga Ogerhunch, ogre hunter of the Ostrobogs and fenstalker.
Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for.
The Book of Hammerskjold
Few are the sons of men who have come to understand the ways of the Volgotoi, the huge warrior race commonly referred to as Ogres.
A wasteland, a vast expanse of ogre infested, nightshade choked swamp…
Why rum all gone?
The PCs have travelled long and far. As nightfall approaches a mighty storm is unleashed. Luckily there is a lush wood nearby the path.
A good shelter for the rage of the unnamed weather gods it seams at first. As the PCs enter under the roof of this dense wood, they are welcomed by only a few drops wich is allowed trough the thick forest crown. A fire is offcourse required to warm the weary bones of the travellers. As one of the party is set to the task of collecting firewood the others settle down at a suitable location. But alas, they did not know the perils of this forest. But it seems clear to the rest of the party that something ill is at work as the woodcutters scream echo from afar.