PCs:Boris

Vital Statistics

Boris Race: Half-Ogre Classes: Blackguard Guild affiliations: Reavers of Maleki Most active on server: Mikona Contact: Leave a message

Age Knowing one's age would suggest an ability to count. Boris does not even seem to care what his age is. He simply - is. Physique Boris is a large and well built man. Well it stands to reason. He has been blessed by Maleki with his ogre kin blood. He can quite often be heard making comments about his behind, especially when falling over for whatever reason. "Ow, me bum!" swiftly followed by him clutching at his posterior is a common sight. Some would say he has a rather large bum, but lets not go into that. Luckily for most, Boris usually covers himself up rather well, wearing the holy armour of a Blackguard of Maleki. Naturally, the occassional expanse of gut does tend to protrude even then, but well... he IS a half-ogre! Interests Boris likes jokes, as long as they don't go over his head. In which case he will laugh anyway, to pretend that he knows what is going on. He is also a keen metal worker and regularly works out 'pumping iron' or 'oiron' as he likes to say. In his spare time he enjoys walking down to the docks to oggle at the ladies. Common Phrases "Moy 'ead 'urts!" "Ow! Me bum!" "Hur hur hur." "Allo dere!" "Allo little'n!" - This one is reserved for anyone under 7 feet tall.

In The Beginning

It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning lit up the sky while thunder crashed all around.

Well, all right, it wasn't quite that stormy. In fact, there had only been a little bit of light rain. Anyway, it was sufficient for an ogre with a money bag of sizeable proportions to seek shelter at an Inn in the great city of Mikona.

Naturally, this particular ogre had a penchant for drinking and drank he did. Lots. Lots and lots. The barkeep was beginning to think that his poor cellar would be drunk dry, when along came a harlot. Yes, a harlot!

This lady of the night was in desperate need (and probably quite drunk herself). She spied a large boorish man brandishing a bag of gold like it was going out of fashion.

I'll gloss over the sordid details. Surfice it to say, several months later Boris was born in a back room of a brothel in the area of the docks. Even though visitors thought he was a ghastly child, with the looks of a piglet that had been hit in the face by a large and very heavy shovel, his mother adored him.