[The following are Bork's Stats. They are useful as I will be rolling dice to see exactly what he does in some situations]
WS: 31%--- BS: 21%-- S: 46%- T: 45%- AG: 24%- Int: 22% WP: 35%- Fel: 20% A: 3- W: 24-- FP: 1 AP 2 SB: 4 TB: 4
Career: Mercenary
Skills: Common Knowledge (ogres), Consume Alchohol, Gamble, Perception, Search, Speak Language (Grumbarth, Reikspield), Dodge Blow, Haggle, Secret Language (battle tongue), Swim
Talents: Disarm, Fearless, Frightening, Specialist Weapon Group (two-handed), Street Fighting, Strike Mighty Blow, Strike to Stun
Armor: Medium Armor (leather jack, leather leggings, mail shirt, helmet), Shield
Weapons: Sword
------------------------
First contact with an NPC
Gunther left the safety of the Grosseferre, with a small retinue of officers. It was not a glamorous position, but then again, as a minor noble who owed much of his power to his father's wealth 'earn't during the Marienburg war, he couldn't ask for much. He had thought that being the Third highest ranking lordling of the Grosseferre garrison would be the apex of his career. Sadly, he was right. Lord Georg von Urebach had called it a 'carnival', and had sent him to ensure that the army acted according to his wishes. It was, unfortunately, as far from a carnival as you could get. Stretched out across the Grossfurre Region was a wave of rabble. Dozens upon dozens of gnoblars, milling about. Perhaps they numbered in their hundreds, for there were too many to count. They ran here and there, stealing, bartering, drinking, fighting and screaming. None of them could even reach his waste. But they all looked at him with beady little eyes, full of avarice and maliciousness. Worse yet, was that the 'army' was camped near the hills. Around the edges were men. He knew several of them, for they were one and all criminals. There were the colors of the Black Caps, Albrecht's Lads, the Dirty Two Dozen, and perhaps more. Scoundrels, all of them, criminals one and all. He had been told that the ogre's army would need discipline, but he had no idea just what a task that would be.
And in the center of it all was the ogre himself. Bork. Clad in the blue and white of Middenland, it towered over the assembled gnoblars. It held the half-eaten leg of a horse in one of its hands. Even on his horse, Gunther could only look the ogre in the eyes because it was sitting. The horse whined as he forced it to go closer, and his officers started to close around him. The ogre had not yet deigned to look at them, for it was too busy with its meal. Eventually they made their way to the 'general', their steeds stepping on or pushing the crowd of gnoblars out of the way. Soon they all sat before him, surrounded by a circle of greenskins. While the cacophony of screaming was still there, the closest gnoblars had fallen (mostly) quiet. The ogre continued to eat, the sound of breaking bones filling the air. Gunther cleared his throat to get the beast's attention. It didn't work. His fellow officers looked at him with expectation, if not fear. He tried again, louder. Still the ogre continued to eat.
Finally he yelled "Ogre!"
Bork lowered the horse leg, his eyes narrowing. It was hard to tell what, if anything, was going through his eyes. Gunther cleared his throat again, and forced himself to speak. "I am...I am Lord Loehr, and your Lord sent me to ensure your loyalty. Are you still eating? By the gods, you will stop eating when I talk to you."
Bork put down the leg of horse and pushed himself to his feet. "Good, now, as I was saying-" Bork reached back and punched the horse in the head, sending it sprawling to the ground. Gunther managed to free himself, and rolled out of the way of the fallen horse. His fellow officers drew their weapons to come to his aid, but the swarm of gnoblars suddnely surged forward. Crawling up their horses, pulling at their saddle bags. Screaming and clawing. A pistol went off, braining one of the innumerable little beasts. Bork stomped his way to the fallen Lordling, smacked the man's blade out of his hand, and grabbed him. In a voice that sounded like rolling thunder he yelled "GNOBLAR NO TALK!" Forcing the man's head back he bit the lordling in the ear, the ogre way of marking a gnoblar as belonging to him. Gunther screamed as he tried to get away, losing his ear in the process. (WP Test: 51 rolled...failure). Bork swallowed the ear, and a look came across his face. He was hungry. Gunther screamed as he tried to push the ogre away, only to loose his hand in the process. The ogre bit down, and with the sound of bones breaking and sinew being torn, it was ripped clear off. (WP Test, -5% penalty: 20, success). Bork tossed the screaming man to the ground, his chin covered in blood. "DOC!" There was a squeal from somewhere within the horde of gnoblars, and a gnoblar dressed in what was once white ran forward. It had a pair of broken glasses resting on it's bulbous nose and was carrying a leather bag that it had looted from somewhere. "Yah boss?" Bork pointed to the Lordling, whose face had gone white and whom was staring at the stump where his hand once was. "Fix him." There was a cheer, for the gathered gnoblars didn't really know what was happening but they enjoyed a good show. The lordling was dragged away by the horde, much to the chargrin of his compatriots.
And in the hills, the gathered bandits watched. And laughed.
------------
Hours later the officers, minus Gunther, returned to the garrison. Their horses were gone. Their weapons, their armor, their coin and their dignity lost too. One man was even missing his pants, for the gnoblars had overwhelmed them and taken everything. And they made their report...
[OOC: As reference, von Urebach was upset about the idea of a "talking gnoblar" speaking on his behalf. So he demanded that Bork take the following NPC into his retinue.
[Gunther Loehr - Third highest ranking lordling in the Grosseferre garrison. A very minor noble who owes much of his power to his fathers wealth 'earnt' during the Marienburg war.]
Thankfully, Bork passed his second WP test. Because for each failed test, the man was going to lose a limb with a further -5% WP check. But I suppose all is well that ends well, right? Because of his self control, I hereby award Bork with +5% WP. As you can see, when he does well he will gain advances. If he does poorly, he can take wounds, or even die.]
Updated Stats:
WS: 31%--- BS: 21%-- S: 46%- T: 45%- AG: 24%- Int: 22% WP: 40%* Fel: 20% A: 3- W: 24-- FP: 1
Career: Mercenary
Skills: Common Knowledge (ogres), Consume Alchohol, Gamble, Perception, Search, Speak Language (Grumbarth, Reikspield), Dodge Blow, Haggle, Secret Language (battle tongue), Swim
Talents: Disarm, Fearless, Frightening, Specialist Weapon Group (two-handed), Street Fighting, Strike Mighty Blow, Strike to Stun
Armor: Medium Armor (leather jack, leather leggings, mail shirt, helmet), Shield
Weapons: Sword
