There was once a Young, Ugly, Half-Ogre. Scared of his own shadow. Hurt by what others may think. Being so large, yet so fearful, his own people called him the ThunderBunny. Reeling from the ridicule of his half brothers. Cast out of his Ogre family village, because of his parentage.
But he was lost most of the time anyway, So he wandered.
He tried to avoid all the bad places that his mother had warned him of. She told him, "The Bee's of Ironwood. Stay away from them. Their poison will make you weak, and sick. Beware of the Ankeg. They will follow the fool who crosses their path. The filthy Harpy will disease you faster than a cheap harlot, with less regard. The Dark monk will sneak up and stab you in the back. Even the Hill centaur will strike you down, if you invade his domain."
But he was lost most of the time anyway, So he wandered.
He would sit outside a friendly camp and listen to happy people tell of happy places, but he could never venture in for fear of rejection. Remembering the early times, when the others would tease, and goad him, even tho he did nothing wrong. He was always running away.
But he was lost most of the time anyway, So he wandered.
Then one night outside a human camp, he heard of a powerful Mystic. They spoke of her as Beautiful, and Strong, and Fair to all. They spoke of her quest for truth, and knowledge. But they never spoke her name. They spoke of Silvermere, and how this kind and gentle Mystic who ventures without fear, gives all an equal chance. He though. MMMMBOP. Maybe I will find a friend.
By accident, he stumbled on a skiff near a Silvery Pool. Perhaps it had been mislaid by an unfortunate traveler. At first, he did the only thing he knew. He attacked it. But when it lay there helpless, not moving, he realized what it was. A way out of this terrible place that he called home.
But he was lost most of the time anyway, So he wandered up the river.
There were mighty beasts in the river, that he had never heard of. They stung him, and he ran. The poison was almost as bad as the Bees, but he was getting stronger, so he survived. He would wallow thru the muck, then ride wildly thru the rapids. He would have been jumping, had he not feared the small skiff would sink.
But he was lost most of the time anyway, so he wandered up the river.
He came upon a dock, and nearly fainted. Could this be? Is it Silvermore? Can he have found this most magical haven of safety? Could it be possible to find the Great Mystic? Joy welled inside him. He may have found a place to be accepted.