|Drunken Ogre's Club||395||100||420||Inebriated Assault: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each piece of Drunken Ogre equipment set worn; Extra damage against Ogre raids||Drunken Ragunt (Raid)|
|Drunken Ogre's Cask||395||100||420||Inebriated Assault: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each piece of Drunken Ogre equipment set worn; Extra damage against Ogre raids||Drunken Ragunt (Raid)|
|Drunken Ogre's Head||395||100||420||Inebriated Assault: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each piece of Drunken Ogre equipment set worn; Extra damage against Ogre raids||Drunken Ragunt (Raid)|
|Drunken Ogre's Torso||395||100||420||Drunken Ragunt (Raid)|
|Drunken Ogre's Hands||395||100||420||Drunken Ragunt (Raid)|
|Drunken Ogre's Legs||395||100||420||Drunken Ragunt (Raid)|
|Drunken Ogre's Feet||395||100||420||Drunken Ragunt (Raid)|
|Drunken Ogre's Ring||395||100||420||Drunken Ragunt (Raid)|
|Drunken Ogre's Cart||400||105||426||Inebriated Assault: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each unique piece of Drunken Ogre equipment set owned; Extra damage against Ogre raids||Drunken Ragunt (Raid)|
Full Set Bonus
|Raid Attack Value: 3786.25|
|Duel Power: 1980|
|1. Ragunt knew he was meant to do something, but he wasn't quite sure what. It was hard to remember such trivialities after three barrels of whisky. He blinked at the blurry world around him. Where were the others? They'd been here a moment ago, when they'd all ambushed the cart and killed the human who'd been driving it. But now they were nowhere to be seen. Stupid minions...
The ogre belched.
|2. The neighing of the horses echoed inside Ragunt's head, and made his brain wobble. He snatched his club, jumped to his feet, and managed to bang his head on a tree. This did little to improve his mood or the state of his aching cranium. The horses laughed (insofar as he could tell), till he broke their spines and shattered their skulls.
In the ensuing silence, the ogre realized that he was hungry. He sat down and pondered the mysteries of the universe, or at least his portion of it, whilst cramming raw, bloody horse meat into his mouth. He washed it down with another cask snatched from the vehicle. Halfway through this refreshment, he remembered.
|3. "Drak-shire!" the ogre said.
Xerkara's attack! He was meant to be leading his minions to join the rest of the army, so they could attack the puny city and crush its defenders. Ragunt finished the barrel, threw it aside, and ran off into the night. If he didn't rejoin the horde, the white wyrm would be furious!
After a few seconds, the ogre stopped, scratched his chin, and went back to the cart. He grabbed another barrel. Thirst would slow him down!
|4. The ogre blundered around in a dark haze. Where the hell was the army? The world was black and blurry, and his minions were small and puny. But still... A horde was a horde. He should've noticed them by now. Unless they were avoiding him, because he'd refused to share the whisky -- and had kicked that kobold who tried to drink from one of the barrels. He'd bash them for this! With that happy resolution firm in mind, or at least as firm as anything else in his foggy brain, he plodded on.|
|5. After what seemed like hours, Ragunt stared into the night and grinned. A cart! And where there was a cart, there were bound to be enemies. Humans, goblins, orcs... That must mean he was on the road to Drak-shire! He unleashed a terrifying war cry (it suffered somewhat when it degenerated into a burp, which echoed across the blurry landscape), brandished his club, and charged.
A tree smashed him in the face, so the ogre hit it back -- and shattered it to splinters. That wooden foe vanquished, he turned to the cart. Ragunt grunted. There was a human, but the man's head was a squashed, bloody mess. And it looked like someone had eaten his horses. This annoyed the ogre, who was getting rather hungry. Horse meat would've been welcome... But at least the cart had some barrels of whisky. So he stopped for a drink, to fortify him for the remainder of his trek.
|6. The ogre ventured through the night, with his club in one hand and a cask of whisky in the other. He glugged as he walked. He also clubbed passing trees, lest any of them try to ambush him like that last one, and was engaged in both activities when the moon emerged from behind the clouds. Its silver glow brightened the landscape. It also seemed to sober Ragunt, and clear a hole in his haze. So it was that he saw the wooden sign ahead of him.
Ragunt was an intelligent ogre. He could even read! Well, only some words. But that was more than any of his stupid minions could do. Maybe all the scholars he'd eaten had made him smart... In any event, he read the sign. And he laughed.
Drak-shire! He'd found Drak-shire!
|7. Ragunt drained his cask, tossed it aside, and scratched his head. Xerkara said Drak-shire was a big city. This one didn't look so big. If this was the best humans could do for a capital, they were even punier than he'd thought! And where was the horde? Shouldn't they have been there, gathered for battle?
The ogre belched, grunted, and belched again. Of course! He was strong and fast. Clever too. The others were probably still lost in the countryside. Stupid minions...
|8. He strode over to Drak-shire and kicked its door. The wood shattered beneath his might, thus proving once more how wretched and worthless the humans were. How could these weaklings dare defy Xerkara and the other gods, if they couldn't even build proper fortifications? Ragunt stepped forward, banged his head, and swore. Then he ducked down and entered.
"Who's that?" said a human female's voice. Bare feet padded down a staircase. "Beardsley, if that's you, you're going to get a mace to the face! I've told you about sneaking in here after... after... closing... time..."
The woman blinked up at the ogre. He grunted and smashed her with his club.
|9. Ragunt raged through the city. He crashed amongst its tables and chairs, barged into all its rooms. But Drak-shire was deserted. The humans must've fled before him! He laughed. He'd conquered it singlehanded! Xerkara would be pleased, and he longed to see the look on her face when the horde arrived to find him in command of the settlement.
He sniffed. Was that...? Yes! The place had whisky! He grabbed a barrel, and proceeded to celebrate his victory...
Screaming voices woke him. Ragunt blinked in the sunlight. Enemies! Enemies had come to assault his conquered city! He roared. Drak-shire was his, and he'd destroy them all!