Brugga “Kettleknell” - The Ogre
A corpse-fat brute with a cookpot halo of iron who drags a dinner bell through the mud—ringing it only when the screaming starts.
Role in Its Society:
Brugga is an opportunist predator who haunts the margins of roads and farms, following smoke, gossip, and the scent of fear. Unlike giants who crush whatever’s in reach, she stalks convenience—isolated homesteads, wounded caravans, and villages already strained by bad harvests. She doesn’t command minions or hold territory with banners; she simply returns to the same routes again and again until people learn to leave offerings, abandon crossings, or pay someone—anyone—to make the problem go away.
Appearance Description:
Brugga is tall even for an ogre—broad-shouldered, long-limbed, and swollen with uneven, unhealthy bulk. Her skin is sallow and blotched, stretched taut across thick muscle and lumpy fat. A pitted iron cookpot sits on her head like a crude helm, strapped in place with rope and leather; the rim is dented as if it’s taken arrows and still laughs about it. She wears a patchwork apron stitched from sackcloth and old hide, stained with grease and dark smears that never quite wash out. One ear is torn almost in half, and her small eyes glitter with a hungry patience that feels wrong on something so large.
Backstory:
Brugga learned early that the easiest meals aren’t hunted—they’re taken from the tired. She followed battlefields for a time, picking through the leftovers after “little folk” wars. She discovered that panic makes people drop food, and that a little noise can turn a tense camp into a running buffet.
The “kettle” came later: a raided cookfire where she found a pot big enough to fit her skull. The bell came after that—ripped from a waystation doorframe—because she liked the sound it made when everyone suddenly remembered they were smaller than her. Now she travels with a brutal ritual: listen, smell, wait… then ring.
