En parlant de cela, l'ogre s'est approché de leur table. Apparemment... il... ne connaissait pas le mot écrit. "C'est le menu." Elle a répondu pour l'autre quand il a eu un aperçu du journal qu'il tenait.

"Hé." Drubbins répondit à l'homme qui s'était mis en colère comme avant de revenir au puzzle du journal.
Drubbins doit analyser ça un moment. Il regarde le menu, regarde Margaret, puis retourne au menu. Il bouche le menu du mot et lui pique les yeux un peu, comme s'il essayait de trouver une réponse qui ne le ferait pas ressembler à une sorte d'idiot géant. Il n'avait jamais été dans un endroit où il y avait un menu. D'habitude, la nourriture était en quelque sorte faite pour lui. Si lui et les garçons ont eu de la chance le cuisinier a pris la demande. Il a fait un autre long tour de la Blue Moon et s'est émerveillé de la chance qu'il avait d'avoir trébuché sur une tenue qui avait quelque chose d'aussi chic que des menus. C'était le matin, n'est-ce pas? C'était l'heure du petit déjeuner, et la réalisation de cela envoie un grondement à travers son estomac assez profond pour remuer l'eau. Il devrait vraiment manger quelque chose, et il avait le choix.
Il y avait eu une chose : il s'est associé à ces géants bambins qui grognaient des arbres pendant un certain temps avant que les elfes ne viennent les chasser. Ils faisaient quelque chose tous les matins qu'il aimait vraiment.
"Cela dit," il a commencé, plaçant une main sur sa tête dans un effort pour se souvenir. "Vous savez, a-t-on appelé, des flatterjacks en deuil?"
Name: Drubbins
Race: Ogre
Gender: Male
Age: 56
Occupation: As close to a professional henchmen as anyone is ever likely to get.
Personality/Interests
Drubbins is what would politely be called "simple." This is actually quite intelligent for an ogre as he's figured out that not krumpin' every last living thing he sees to eat there flesh and tender marrow is the best way to get ahead in the world. He's generally got no will of his own, willing to follow the orders of whomever he deems to be "Da Boss" (normally whomever is currently feeding him) no matter what those orders may be. He figures this is the best way to live because he, bein' not so smart n'all, will always make wrong decisions. This blind faith makes him steadfast, loyal, and very very gullible when it comes to his boss and anyone the boss puts in charge of him.
When he's not doing something for the boss he enjoys the typical ogre activities of eatin' and drinkin', and the not so typical ogre activity of thinkin'. He's actually quite the philosopher for an ogre, and sits thinkin' and listenin' to the smart people talk in the hopes of one day becoming smart himself.
Details
Body build: Thick. Arms and legs like tree trunks, with arms so long they drag along the ground. Fat with muscle.
Hair: None.
Hair color: None. He has no hair, that's trolls.
Skin color: Mottled grey
Eye/Iris color: Red
Height/Weight: 8ft tall/Heavy
Notable Features: Pronounced underbite, sharp jagged teeth visible covering his upper lip. Long, sharp, black nails on his fingers and toes. Body is covered in badly healed scars and he has a hatched head embedded in his skull.
Clothing Description
A large ragged kilt held on by a leather strap that goes over his shoulder.
Equipment
Black iron wristbands on both arms.
Weapon(s)
Generally the heaviest thing around he can pick up.
Powers
Weirdly lucky.
Abilities
Super strength, Super endurance, thick leathery hide that can shrug off most normal human blows.
Talents
Just throwing things. He's gotten really really good at throwing things over the years, he's got excellent aim.
Magic
None
Sessamaru: Dis dog bloke, he seems like a boss, right? 'Sept he's just knockin' about like me, innie? Where's he live?
Historia: Bird bloke, always doin' somefing for a boss. Like me.
Saha: Don't see many snake blokes 'round here. Don't see many ogres either. Hmmm...likes drinkin'. Seems awright, for a snake bloke.
Katelia: Oh wait, ders an ogre. No. 'Old on. Dat's a person. Someone krumped him good. Was it da pet? Wish I had a pet.
Wanna see who's gots more scars? Dats a fun game.
Julio: Tiny bird bloke. Put him behind me when dey kick in da door. Feels nice, bein' 'round him.
Azzrix: Quick little git like dis take off wif half da bosses gubbins when fings go bad. I'm watching you, quick little git.
Margaret: Don't trust witches no more. Dey can put needles in yer thinkin' bits. Don't put needles in my thinkin' bit witch, or I'll krump ya.
Naida: Bar bloke. Make's nice music. Talks to me in my thinkin' bits. I don't like it, but I won't tell him that 'cause I like him.

Mysaren: Feel comfortable 'round this bloke. Somefing about him's, ya know, where you remember somefing and it gives ya a feelin'? Slike dat.
Tahira: Give em' a house and some boys and dis'ed be a proper boss ta have.
Rimau: Dis is da type a boy ya want widcha when dey kick in da doors. Or just standin' 'round lookin' big. Or Lookin' for somefing. Or someone. Point is, da type a boy you want 'round.
Claire: Tiny bloke. Scary bloke. Good bloke to have 'round.
Viggo: Git. Makes nice music, but then krumps it with dat loud stuff. What'se for?
Rouen: Have I krumped this bloke before? Maybe he was doin' the krumpin'. Not sure. Heads fuzzy. Dis is da sort of bloke that ends up kickin' in da door.
Felan: I ain't never seen a dog dat big before! Noooo, stop bein' a git. Go back ta bein' a dog.