OGRE NAME GENERATOR
During some particularly intensive research, Ogre Kingdoms author Phil Kelly unearthed a treasure trove of Ogre names. He presents them here so that aspiring Ogre players across the world can come up with suitably impressive names for their Bruisers, Tyrants and other athletes of the gut.
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Phil Kelly |
Phil: Ogre names start off as blunt and obvious as their owners. This is because Ogres have a limited capacity for tradition or titles, and lose interest very quickly after the first syllable or two. The exception to this is the Ogre's honorific, or Big Name, a suffix to the Ogre's name that he has to earn in his transition from whelp to adult bull.
With typical Ogre directness, an Ogre's name tells anyone alive long enough to hear it what that Ogre excels at or the particular skills he prides himself in.
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Skrag the Slaughterer, Prophet of the Great Maw. |
Those Ogres who go on to become mercenaries tend to exchange the honorific they earned during their rite of passage for a given name bestowed upon them by those they accompany into battle. These normally take the form of titles rather than last names. Some of the oldest and most successful Ogre mercenaries may have long and ostentatious titles, often including words that they don't even understand themselves. An Ogre Maneater is as likely to be called Brog the Unsanitary as he is Brog the Unstoppable.
It is debatable if the Ogres care what their given name is, just so long as it sounds impressive. After all, anyone foolish enough to laugh at an Ogre's name will find himself on the wrong side of a gut-plate pretty quickly.
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Greasus Tribestealer Drakecrush Hoardemaster Goldtooth the Shockingly Obese. |
rug the Violent slammed his tankard down onto the oak table, spilling Ogre
beer onto one of his Gnoblars, who shrieked and ran under his chair. That was
Grug's way of getting his tribe-mates' attention, and that could
only mean one thing. His war stories always tended to end in what a charitable
onlooker would call re-enactment.
"Right. Durin' the war, back in the jungle, there was them giant lizzerds the size of mammoths but with big mouths. The Empire-boys called 'em Dinnersaws but they ate you first if you didn't hit 'em just right. Shut it you two I'm speakin'."
Grug flexed his massive fists, his popping knuckles clearly audible over the crackle of the hearth. His lads were listening intently, and their leader was warming to his subject.
"So these fings, huge they were. Fierce. But they had the lizzerd warriers with 'em too. They liked a bit of red meat and all. And they knew about ambush – green like the trees. Oi, you lot, grab that skull!" bawled Grug, gesturing to two cowering Gnoblars and a massive, long-horned trophy hanging on the wall. They scampered to do his bidding as he rose to his feet, head scraping against the roof of the cave.
"So this fing, smashin' trees everywhere, barrel out of the trees straight towards us. Lizzerd warriers come out of a swamp and pull Hirio's lads in with 'em."
Grug gestured at another group of Gnoblars who obligingly came forward, hissing and snarling. They knew the drill.
"Nobody left but me and the big lizzerd comin' forward. I tell yer it was the size of ten Rhinoxes, but worse teeth I SAID COMIN' FORWARD!"
As the spittle flew from Grug's mouth, the two Gnoblars carrying the stegadon skull crept hesitantly towards him, inch by inch, the bearers hoping they would make it out of this alive.
"So I get out two of me nice new guns and shoot it wiv both. Nothin'. Dropped 'em and gave it two more barrels. Still no blood."
Grug paused, looking each of his tribe-mates in the eye.
"And now it's thunderin' right up to me. No time to reload."
The tension in the room was palpable as the Gnoblars under the skull tiptoed forward a little more, the skull scraping along the ground. Grug growled and slapped his forehead in exasperation.
"WALLOP!" bellowed Grug, whipping out his club and bringing it down on the skull in one smooth motion. The skull bounced high in the air, chips of bone bouncing across the ground. Two twisted green bodies lay in a mangled heap on the ground, black blood flowing across the cave floor.
"Oops" said Grug, picking up his tankard and draining it dry in one gulp, "youse lot better clear that mess up. You've let this place slip."
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