Following is another report from the trident-wielding warrior, Novak. Details, such names or the distinction between elf and half-elf are largely lost on the barely-literate Novak. More learned comrades of his might relate a more coherent narrative. The following account was the best history preserves.
After a month’s rest in Malcolmsfort, Novak decided they ought to find the ogres the two witches said here bothering them. Before leaving town, they asked a few locals to join the crew. Word was out that few hirelings returned from forest. All refused to hire on.
A half-day’s march along forest trails ended at a cliff above a clearing. They spotted a cave, but climbing down 100′ of cliff was out of the question, so they walked north until they reached the home of the mogrel men, who greeted them warmly, except for their newest comrade, the black skull elf priest. The nearly cowered in his presence. Novak promised that the elf was harmless and asked why the mogrels were fearful. They showed cave paintings, origins of which were lost to time, showing the same symbols worn by the elf priest. It was a god of death, they said. The elf shrugged. He simply worshiped the true gods of the elves.
The next morning, the ranger set off alone to scout the ogre home. He spied an ogre alone in the woods and attacked immediately. Blows were traded and the elf was victorious though bloody. He returned to report his battle and the rest of them headed together towards the ogre cave.
They hid in the brush to watch for ogres. A female ogre came out from the main cave and went in to another cave. She came out with a bucket of water and returned to the main cave. They saw steam from other cave.
Some time later, another ogre came out. He was larger. Those with longbows peppered him with arrows as he retreated. Waiting was no good. Novak charged into the cave and crashed in the crude door. He faced goblins he started sticking with his trident. The rest followed behind him.
The ranger squeezed around Novak to go deeper into the ogre caves and came face to face with the large ogre. His chest still had fresh blood from where he was stuck with arrows. Goblins fell below weapon blows, then two smaller ogres appeared. Still, battle raged.
Presently, an ogre child dealt such a blow to Novak’s right arm that it came loose. Blood gushed out in an arc. Novak crumpled into a final sleep.
Novak awoke to the human cleric saying a prayer over him. His severed arm lay on the cave floor, but the bleeding from the stump had stopped bleeding. From elsewhere in the cave, a cry went out. The female ogre begged mercy. She claimed to be a girl changed into an ogre by an evil mage. The believed her. She wept for her dead children, fathered by the real ogre, also dead.
The gathered loot and returned to the two witches who instantly recognized the ogre girl who they restored to proper form. For great heroism, the witches granted gifts to each of them. For Novak, the reattached his arm by way of a magical staff.