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Description
Thrag's clan had made a decent living for themselves in a cliffside community for some time. Water accumulating on the sides of the cliff that trickled down into the lowland valleys gave them constant water to fuel their foraging and hunting of the lesser lowland creatures. The bigger beasts could shake the earth hard enough to start small avalanches by the sheer force of their bulk so they stayed away from the walls and kept to the lowland interiors. Their territory had provided for them for generations.
Then one night the cliffside fell down and the rubble buried half the clan, the shock of the falling stones and their shattering forms killed more, ogre, prey, and plants alike. Of what few survivors of the landslide most were injured. They tried to salvage what they could, but most of their tools and tents were lost. Prey had fled into the depths of the lowlands, miles away and meat was impossible to find. They tried to continue but something in the mud brought by the landslide seemed to poison their plants.
Thrag decided there was no choice, they couldn't push into neighboring clan territories with their weakened number, they must risk the venture to see what lay above. The climb was so difficult that not all of their wounded made it to see the upper lands and all things considered Thrag wasn't sure it was worth it.
The sun was harsh up above and the air dry with no constant screen of fog. Ogres of the clan singed in the brutal day of the highland realm, but there was meat to be found. The animals were small compared to what they were used to, but they were also next to defenseless. The meals were small but the prey was easy. The ogre clan made to pass the time by naming these strange small and furry creatures that seemed so simple compared with the creatures of their homeland.
One day they made the most curious discovery of all, small pinkish creatures that resembled some kind of small, defenseless ogre in their way. They built overly fancy tents of needlessly butchered wood and stone, but they kept such a glut of crop and beast it seemed that they shouldn't miss a few.
The little ones were greedy though, jealous of their possessions and fighting had been the result. Ogres had crushed the little ones with ease but there were so many of them, armed with elaborate weapons, that they could swarm an ogre and take them down with a hundred puny cuts. He'd lost some of his clan yet again and in the end spite drove him to steal from them again. The ogres got sneakier, but the little ones kept up. Sometimes they got away without a fight, other times they'd limp away with injuries.
Thrag was starting to think that the food in the area could not support them for long - prey was starting to elude them more often and become more scares - if they didn't take the territory of fancy huts for themselves. It was risky, but he was determined that enough of the clan live through the catastrophe to continue into the future. Perhaps they could bring up one of the greater beasts from down below to plow a path for them.
There was a lot of debate in the clan, many wanted to avoid further death and simply chance other parts of the forest, but others were motivated by newly forged hate and wanted to wipe out the little ogres and eat them. They were going around the old arguments yet again when a look out noticed a lone human heading for their lair.
Thrag sent the others away, most to hide, but a trusted few to wait with slings in case there were more little ones hiding for an ambush. He went out to meet the lone human and knew it wasn't a local, the black mane was unlike any of the locals and it was tall for its kind yet still puny in its scrawny build. Could they have called up other clans to fight with them against Thrag's clan? The idea was worrying...
It did something he did not expect, rather than cowering in fear or readying some kind of attack the little being walked towards him with a confident stride and started yammering something in their strange language. The pitch of the voice and the length it droned on for grated on his ears.
"SHUT UP!"
The little one stopped quickly, crouching and putting its hand to a strange stick hanging from its hip. It said something to him again, this time its voice a little lower and therefore less annoying. It seemed like it was trying to threaten him...
"That's adorable. I'm going to tell everyone about this."
The little one drew a sliver of metal out of the stick at its side - how weird these little not-ogres were - and swished it to the side with a shout.
Thrag couldn't make out the intent and tried imitating what it had done to see how it responded. Bizarrely it started scribbling lines in the sand at its feet. Thrag couldn't discern any point to it, wracking his brain for any possible explanation.
This one was just wasting his time, its friends must be circling around for an attack! It was the only thing that made any sense. Best to crush it first and then find its friends quickly!

Description
Thrag's clan had made a decent living for themselves in a cliffside community for some time. Water accumulating on the sides of the cliff that trickled down into the lowland valleys gave them constant water to fuel their foraging and hunting of the lesser lowland creatures. The bigger beasts could shake the earth hard enough to start small avalanches by the sheer force of their bulk so they stayed away from the walls and kept to the lowland interiors. Their territory had provided for them for generations.
Then one night the cliffside fell down and the rubble buried half the clan, the shock of the falling stones and their shattering forms killed more, ogre, prey, and plants alike. Of what few survivors of the landslide most were injured. They tried to salvage what they could, but most of their tools and tents were lost. Prey had fled into the depths of the lowlands, miles away and meat was impossible to find. They tried to continue but something in the mud brought by the landslide seemed to poison their plants.
Thrag decided there was no choice, they couldn't push into neighboring clan territories with their weakened number, they must risk the venture to see what lay above. The climb was so difficult that not all of their wounded made it to see the upper lands and all things considered Thrag wasn't sure it was worth it.
The sun was harsh up above and the air dry with no constant screen of fog. Ogres of the clan singed in the brutal day of the highland realm, but there was meat to be found. The animals were small compared to what they were used to, but they were also next to defenseless. The meals were small but the prey was easy. The ogre clan made to pass the time by naming these strange small and furry creatures that seemed so simple compared with the creatures of their homeland.
One day they made the most curious discovery of all, small pinkish creatures that resembled some kind of small, defenseless ogre in their way. They built overly fancy tents of needlessly butchered wood and stone, but they kept such a glut of crop and beast it seemed that they shouldn't miss a few.
The little ones were greedy though, jealous of their possessions and fighting had been the result. Ogres had crushed the little ones with ease but there were so many of them, armed with elaborate weapons, that they could swarm an ogre and take them down with a hundred puny cuts. He'd lost some of his clan yet again and in the end spite drove him to steal from them again. The ogres got sneakier, but the little ones kept up. Sometimes they got away without a fight, other times they'd limp away with injuries.
Thrag was starting to think that the food in the area could not support them for long - prey was starting to elude them more often and become more scares - if they didn't take the territory of fancy huts for themselves. It was risky, but he was determined that enough of the clan live through the catastrophe to continue into the future. Perhaps they could bring up one of the greater beasts from down below to plow a path for them.
There was a lot of debate in the clan, many wanted to avoid further death and simply chance other parts of the forest, but others were motivated by newly forged hate and wanted to wipe out the little ogres and eat them. They were going around the old arguments yet again when a look out noticed a lone human heading for their lair.
Thrag sent the others away, most to hide, but a trusted few to wait with slings in case there were more little ones hiding for an ambush. He went out to meet the lone human and knew it wasn't a local, the black mane was unlike any of the locals and it was tall for its kind yet still puny in its scrawny build. Could they have called up other clans to fight with them against Thrag's clan? The idea was worrying...
It did something he did not expect, rather than cowering in fear or readying some kind of attack the little being walked towards him with a confident stride and started yammering something in their strange language. The pitch of the voice and the length it droned on for grated on his ears.
"SHUT UP!"
The little one stopped quickly, crouching and putting its hand to a strange stick hanging from its hip. It said something to him again, this time its voice a little lower and therefore less annoying. It seemed like it was trying to threaten him...
"That's adorable. I'm going to tell everyone about this."
The little one drew a sliver of metal out of the stick at its side - how weird these little not-ogres were - and swished it to the side with a shout.
Thrag couldn't make out the intent and tried imitating what it had done to see how it responded. Bizarrely it started scribbling lines in the sand at its feet. Thrag couldn't discern any point to it, wracking his brain for any possible explanation.
This one was just wasting his time, its friends must be circling around for an attack! It was the only thing that made any sense. Best to crush it first and then find its friends quickly!