It was the sacred day of the Red Moon. Deep in the caves beneath Skull Spire, two ogre children were born, twins. One was a typical ogre child--big and stupid. The other a pitiful shrunken thing, a runt. His sidejaw artery was ritualistically slashed, then he was thrown away in the garbage without another thought.
The shaman Orla, searching the caves for a hidden presence she felt there, came upon a huge pile of rotting refuse. She sifted through it and pulled out a filthy, bleeding ogre child. With a simple spell, Orla devoted a portion of her life force to the child, restoring it to health. Amused at her discovery, she carried him back to her swelling by the creek. She named him Okk.
Raised by Orla, Okk grew up hateful and distrustful of everything around him. When he came of age, he began training in the ways of the shaman. A fire raged within his soul as Okk knew power for the first time. Using the basic shamanistic magics he had learned, he slew his parents, the ones who had tried to kill him before. Something extraordinary happened in that moment, though. In a way most unusual for an ogre, Okk was filled with pain and sorrow at the destruction he had caused. Weeping over the bodies of his slain, he vowed never to take another life again.
Okk wandered the realm blindly, the whole world confusing and unreal. His tortured soul searched desperately for faith, until, one day, he found himself lying upon
the cold obsidian floor in the crypt of the great Arch-Lich. The darkness and firm clarity of purpose of the Black Conclave drew him there like no other had, and there he offered his life and his service. Nonchalantly, it was accepted.
Okk lived a peaceful life, keeping true to his vow. With a detached eye, he observed the daily struggles of life and death his companions went through, while giving assistance wherever he could. As the years went by, he grew calmer, wiser. He continued on and became an adept of the shaman class.
As Okk passed his third century of existence, he began to feel something change within his being. Something strange and nearly forgotten. A bloodlust welled up inside him as the natural ogre instinct to kill struggled for control. Meditation and other forms of self-control would not suppress it. It haunted him, invading his very thoughts. Soon he would have lost his sanity and himself forever. He did something desperate, unpredictable. He took his own life. As Okk's soul emerged into the realm again, he blocked his soul from re-entry into a new body. As the fierce ogre spirit clung to his mortal remains and perished, Okk rose into the heavens, an immortal spirtual essence.
When you see Okk, you will usually find him costumed in the form he used as a mortal, a small ogre. Or is he that soft breeze blowing across your cheek? Whatever he may be, he is always watching, bringing hope and kindness into the world.
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