Zig laughed at the image in his mind that Zoroka had planted. He took another swig of his drink.
He then snapped his fingers and started another story.
"Helped my brother's group take down an ogre. Fatter and uglier than the normal ogre. Called itself Rawhead. It was horribly burned by a mage, so it had gone insane. It took to sneaking into towns and taking children and eating them. We were able to corner the thing in its lair and we fought it. By the gods, was it strong! We lost one that day. Poor dwarf..." He trailed off for a moment. He then shook his head and started again. "Torrca took the head of the beast as a prize. She was in mourning over losing her husband to Rawhead. She was a spitfire, let me tell you. She put manure in my boots once. Crazy little wench." He added with a chuckle.
"Ever run afoul of ogres before?" He asked.
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