You know that scene in horror movies, where a group of unsuspecting kids are wandering around alone in the woods, just before the slasher appears? And you think to yourself, “That’s stupidly unrealistic. I would never end up in a situation like that.” Well…

My gray eyes dart around, my body tense and on alert, listening for any signs of whatever had attacked before, for though the rain of boulders has stopped, I know someone or something is still out there, the crunch of several footsteps bouncing between the trees, following me through the forest as I move, not that I have any idea where I am even going, or how to best escape. The woods, as I’m beginning to realize, are vast, with few markings or trails to show the way, and I find myself completely turned around at this point, having no idea where I am, wishing that the Teleport Dog was still here to guide me once more.

As I think upon my meeting with the golden retriever, a sudden rash of angry yelling echoes through the air, causing me to freeze in place. A cacophony of sounds erupts around me, coming from all directions it seems- stomping, clanking, shrieking. But then the worst of all emerges a few minutes later- silence.

The forest is still, save for the beat of my own heart. My breathing quickens, my pupils dilate. This is totally a horror movie. This is exactly the scene where the kids get killed. This is -

A hand on my shoulder causes me to jump out of my skin, and I swerve around, arms raised in a defensive position. “I’m warning you, I know Kung Fu, mhmmm-” My mouth is silenced as a palm covers it, and when I look closer, I find that it’s the man from before, Gin, seemingly unscathed, a curious expression on his face.

“Kung Fu? What’s that?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

My eyes open wide. “You! You’re okay! What’s going on?! Was that an attack?! Did something attack us?!”

Gin just offers me a smirk, which I find as a rather inappropriately casual response to our apparently dire situation. “See for yourself,” he replies before gesturing me over to some nearby bushes. I proceed slowly with caution and, crouching behind them, peer over the line of leaves, into what seems like a small clearing. In the middle, a lone figure stands, and when I see it, I hear a gasp escape my lips, a mix of fear and awe. “What… the… hell is that?”

The most remarkable feature of the figure is its size. It must be at least seven feet tall, perhaps eight, looking to weigh in over half a ton. It is humanoid in shape, with two arms and legs, and is even dressed in what appears to be normal human clothes- a tattered red vest, brown leather pants and a pair of hide boots. But that is about the extent of its similarity to man. Its skin is a sickly gray, taut and seems just barely able to contain the ripple of muscles throughout its body; its arms are the size of my head. The biggest indication that it is something inhuman, however, is the creature’s face. A snout of a nose, upon which sits beady black eyes, ears pointed, with fangs sharper still. No such animal exists on earth, save perhaps horrifically disfigured mutants reserved for the big screen. I turn back to Gin, and I see that the smile is still on his face.

“A Half-Ogre,” he replies, “By your expression, I take it you don’t have these where you’re from?” I shake my head, a bit too stunned still to speak. Fortunately, Gin has a way of making me talk, I’ve realized. He asks, “Want to fight it?”

“Ehhh?!”