Gizmak the Terrible

Gizmak had always been a runt. He hailed from the Glower tribe, an Ogryn community that inhabited the caverns beneath the Dawnmounts. Though subterranean Ogryn tend to be leaner than their muscular overground kin, Gizmak was downright scrawny, and in the unforgiving environment of tribal life, was at the bottom of the Glower social hierarchy. Gizmak received the most odious tasks. He was required to transport muck to the tunnels the tribe used as dumping grounds and was used as bait to capture all sorts of subterranean wildlife, from megacondas to scuttlefiends. He was required to constantly keep the torches and fires in the tribal caverns lit, a duty that consumed almost all his time as he scurried from one chamber to the next. While he fantasized about one day igniting his abusers with those same flames, he never dared, and any complaint he made saw him receive a fierce beating. After one such punishment, Gizmak was wandering distant tunnels, sniveling bitterly to himself. Friendless as he was, he was accustomed to the company of his own voice, echoing back at him from the low ceilings and stony walls. On this occasion, however, the echoes did more than repeat his words. They spoke to him of their own volition. They told Gizmak he did not deserve the cruelties heaped upon him, and that soon he would be the one inflicting them. All he had to do was go a little further down the tunnel. He took a few more paces and, without warning, the floor gave way beneath him. The shrieking Ogryn bounced from one rock to the next before landing with bruising force on his rump. He found himself on top of a pile of rubble in a chamber he had never visited before. At its center was a strange column, made from what looked like petrified wood. It was a totem, carved with a trio of leering faces. Gizmak felt an overwhelming desire to touch the idol, a desire that the echoing voice urged him to give into. Gizmak did so, and crimson light flared within the grotesque faces. It was the last thing he saw before his consciousness deserted him. When he awoke, Gizmak realized he was no longer in the strange cave, but back in his bolt hole among the tribe. Yet the totem was still with him. With no memory of leaving the cave or taking the totem, he stumbled out into the wider caverns, seeking answers. He discovered a scene of chaos. The Glower tribe was in disarray. It seemed as though the tribe had been attacked. Gizmak got one of the other tribe runts to tell him what had happened. Equally shocked, she described how a huge brute of an Ogryn had emerged from a lesser tunnel and set about the tribe. Even the strongest warriors had taken a brutal pummeling, and the rampage had only ended when the assailant had apparently grown bored and wandered off. None of this meant anything to Gizmak until he heard mention of what the attacker had wielded — a strange staff with three carved faces that burned with sorcerous red fire. He kept the totem a close secret, not daring to touch it again. As the tribe recovered, he continued suffering their abuses, until one day they grew to be too much. He decided to show the tribe what he had found, believing it would finally earn him some respect. As he grasped the totem, he passed out again. Gizmak awoke to the same scene as before. To the dismay of the Glower, the huge Ogryn had returned and set about mirthfully brutalizing everyone within reach. As the shocked Gizmak tried to work out what happened, the voice he heard in the tunnels spoke again. It claimed Gizmak had been fated for greatness by powers beyond his comprehension. Whenever the sentient totem willed it, it could fill Gizmak with strength, transforming him from a scrawny Ogryn into the pinnacle of his species’ might. The only downside was that the consciousness of the pair was not linked, and neither was aware — or able to control – the other. Still, the totem promised to pass messages between the two. Still disbelieving, Gizmak grasped the totem once more, this time intending to transform. Sure enough, in a blaze of crimson flames, the Ogryn the tribe had taken to calling the ‘Terrible’ returned, leering with ill intentions. This time when he appeared before the Glower, he demanded their subservience and ordered them to cease their abuse of the one they knew as Gizmak. He was a good friend, or so the gigantic Ogryn claimed, and was to be treated with respect. So Gizmak was elevated from lowly runt, to honored member of the Glower tribe. No longer treated with disdain, he was granted the most luxurious of caves to live in, the choicest food, and first claim on anything shiny the tribe got hold of. Some of the wiser Ogryn wondered why they never saw Gizmak and the Glower’s new ruler at the same time, but all were too terrified of Gizmak’s patron to challenge him. A new confidence came over Gizmak. He was stronger than ever, a result of the first proper food in all his life and, he suspected, some result of the totem’s magic. Gizmak would have been content to live a life of luxury, but seemingly that is not enough for his new twin. Every time Gizmak awakes, he finds his ‘terrible’ alter ego has set in motion new plans, bringing more subterranean tribes under his brutal rule, forming a coalition with him as lord and master. Even worse, it seems the totem’s control over them both is now absolute, as Gizmak is unable to stop himself from transforming, even without touching the arcane object, which he is sure he can hear cackling when his back is turned. Just what schemes the spirit apparently bound within is concoctinq, Gizmak does not know.