It was a chilly day. Grokh the aged barbarian caretaker shivered as the
chilling winds from northeast gained strength. Being one of the giantkin, an
ogre, he sighed knowingly and muttered to nobody in particular:

"Those frosties are up to no good, again."

He was referring to the frost giants in Fort Frigus, obviously. The winters
had been getting colder and colder, at least it felt like that. The shivers
and the old aches in his bones told that to Grokh with certainty. The ruins he
was taking care of offered little to no protection from elements. Grokh
quietly cursed the ancient giant gods under his breath, and thought out aloud:

"Maybe I will visit that frigging fort some day. I bet they have better
housing and healers than these... barbarians... who left me to tend stones."

With a long sigh, he considered briefly the folly in his thoughts. Being a
true barbarian was a great honour, and it would be so until the day of his
glorious death. Unless he froze to death, of course. That would make him the
laughing stock of the barbarian tribes all around. He promptly cast that
thought away, feeling his anger rise at the thought of laughing younglings at
his wake. Nothing to keep you warm better than the rage inside. In this fit of
rage, he mooned northeast, in the general direction of Fort Frigus, and
yelled:

"I wish a horde of adventurers upon your stupid frigging fort!"

He felt proud for a moment. It wasn't easy for an ogre to come up with these
things, like frigging Fort Frigus. He liked the sound of it, how it rolled off
his tongue. He pulled his trousers up, and gave the finger to the general
direction of the Fort, and grinned. His mood had improved despite the cold,
and maybe today would bring more newbies to harass, or maybe even an event to
see. Only time would tell.

++Heidel