Flashback
In the bordered region of Nuruk, sat a king strong and mighty. His axe cleaved the flesh of his enemies, and their skulls were laid as an accolade for his boasting victory.
The head of the north Lekshar of Ogres, a descendant of earth and fire. His skin was as hard as rock, and too dense that cuts laid little injuries upon it. He was a boastful king, and pride stood on his head like a crown.
After all none could blame him for feeling imbued with such stature and desire. The ogre king of the twelfth generation he was, and he never knew defeat. Standing before troops of soldiers and kingdoms, he ravaged like a beast.
A beast he truly was, and all his dead enemies could account for that. He was simply devoid of any thoughts beyond wars and fighting, as he believed he was the only pillar for his people.