Hendrik exploded through the pile of bodies that were piled on top of him like a whale cresting the ocean’s surface.  Nearly perfectly upright, he shot up with a goblin by the throat in each hand gripping them tightly before smashing them together and throwing them in either direction into the forest that surrounded him.
     A massive vein popped out of his flushed and blood-splattered face, running jaggedly from the base of his white hair to the top of one of his bushy white eyebrows.  Three other goblins that had already fallen to his vicious assault littered the clearing.  He towered above two more goblins that were sprawled on the ground from the force of his rise and amazed that through sheer strength of will he had overcome all five of them trying to tie him down.  He reached onto his back and pulled out his spare battle-axe, a worn piece of metal with a honed edge that cut through metal like butter, as his prey began scrambling away.  He normally preferred his great-sword but it was laying several yards away where he had been ambushed and it had been knocked from his hands.
     “Where do you think you’re going, boys?” he bellowed.  “I thought you were in this for a fight?”  The two goblins glanced back at him with fear on their leathery faces.  In a single leap the towering man soared several yards and landed on the back of one of goblins with a sickening crunch.  The goblin howled in pain as Hendrik crouched and reached down with a gigantic hand, tearing the goblin’s head back by his greasy, black hair before slicing into the side of his head with his axe.
     The other goblin, now to his left, got to his feet and drew his sword; a wicked scimitar smeared with black slime that Hendrik could only assume was poison.  From behind him he could hear the other goblins shouting at each other and apparently coming around to attack from behind.  He rose and turned to face the lone goblin with a grin on his face.  He lowered his head and bull-rushed the lone goblin with his battle-axe low.  The look of surprise mixed with fear would have been obvious on the face of the goblin had Hendrik been looking.  Instead, Hendrik’s eyes were firmly fixed on the goblin’s sword arm making sure that the goblin’s move would be anticipated.  In his shock, however, the goblin didn’t have the time to make any move at all before being swiftly uppercut in the chin with Hendrik’s axe.  
     As the body crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, Hendrik turned towards the other three.  His axe hung in his right hand dripping with fresh blood and with his right hand he stroked his long, thick, single-braided beard.
     “Now boys,” he said in the native tongue of the goblins, “we can play this the hard way and you can end up like your friends did,” he made a point of this by turning slightly to his right and wiping the blood off his axe on the brown leathers of the goblin he had just killed.  “Or you can talk.”
     The biggest of the three goblins, who stood in the center of the three, stepped forward a few feet.  He had an axe in his left hand and a rounded shield covered in some kind of leather in his right hand.  He looked hesitantly back at the other two and then turned back towards Hendrik and growled at him, “We have nothing to tell you, human.  You invaded our camp and killed our tribesmen.  What do you expect us to tell you?”
     “We could start with why you’re here, slime,” Hendrik growled back.  “And there have been a few interesting disappearances in this area since you arrived.  If you’re not prepared to tell me about them now, I can’t imagine what I’m going to have to do to get you to talk.”  
     Hendrik let the sinister threat dangle in the air for a moment while spinning his axe around in his palm, as he continued stroking his beard.  He was nothing if he was not a formidable looking opponent.  Standing nearly seven feet tall, he was absolutely massive.  He was as wide as two normal men and was nearly all muscle.  He wore practically nothing for armor and was dressed almost entirely in furs.  He had a long, brown fur cloak, tan deer hides for his tunic and pants and knee-high brown, fur boots. His beard, like his other hair, was stark white with the exception of one black streak that ran directly down the middle and could be seen interspersed throughout the braid, which fell to his stomach.  
     “We will move on,” said the largest of the three after the long silence.
     “Not without telling me what you’ve been doing here,” said Hendrik gruffly.  He took two more long strides in the direction of the goblins and gripped his axe, raising it into a horizontal position.
     This action was all the goblins needed.  Without warning they simply turned and bolted out of the clearing and into the forest.  Hendrik had been waiting for this and made his move.  He threw his axe as hard as he could, but with deadly precision.  The blunt side of the axe barreled into the back of the largest goblin’s head and he went sprawling face first.  Hendrik sprinted forward and picked up his great sword in a single swooping movement and made after the goblins with seemingly supernatural speed to finish off the two goblins who were still on their feet.

     Hendrik’s cabin was a relatively warm, wooden structure nestled in the woods not far from the edge of a small village called Bear Bluff.   He had built it himself when he had decided to settle there several years earlier.  It was a simple one-roomed structure that was relatively bare with the exception of a large wooden table, a fireplace with an overstuffed armchair in front of it, a very large feather mattress covered with brown fur blankets and a weapons rack that stood in the corner adorned with various axes, swords and even a long bow.   The cabin stood empty but smoke rose from the chimney, indicating that its resident was currently in his place of work.    
     Hendrik had also built a shed, which was about the same size as his cabin.  This was where he did the dirty work of skinning and preparing all his furs.  This was also where he cured leather and did everything that was necessary to keep his fledgling business afloat.  While he was mostly capable of caring for himself through hunting and gathering, he was no weapon smith.  Therefore coin was of the utmost importance and his only marketable skill was that of a leather worker.  On the side he also did taxidermy for the local inhabitants of Bear Bluff who had taken kindly to him when he had proved incredibly useful against the all-too-common orc raids.  Hendrik had organized a local militia, of sorts, which consisted of the 25 capable men of the village.  However, it wasn’t the militia that had held off the attacks so much as it was the sheer ferocity with which the Giant of Bear Bluff, as surrounding villages referred to him, fought off the adversaries.  He seemed to completely lack regard for his own life as he often sliced his way through dozens of orcs.  It became apparent to the local tribes that Bear Bluff was no longer a risk-free store-room of goods for easy takings in the sparse winter months.
     Hendrik, though, was a mystery to the residents of Bear Bluff; a mystery that they greatly enjoyed gossiping about over a mug at The Bear’s Den, the local inn.  He was a hard worker, good to his word and a stout drinker with many tales of battle.  His past, however, was a story that he kept from the locals.  
     Hendrik had suddenly showed up in this backwater village and built his cabin slightly beyond the rest of them, further into the forest.  He spent a fair number of his free evenings in the pub, but no one could ever get much out of him.  From his accent, mannerisms, and style of dress they had gathered that he was Runari, the “barbarian peoples” of the islands far to the northeast.  However, the locals quickly learned that Hendrik was not a common brute.  Sure, he was strong as a bear and could take on groups of enemies single-handedly.  His now legendary temper was the talk of Bear Bluff for months after his first encounter with an orcish raiding band, but he was sharp-minded and witty as well.  He had a mind for economics and his business made him a pretty penny when the hunting had been good.
     Above all, however, Hendrik was very protective of Bear Bluff and its people.  And while no one really knew where he had come from or how he had chosen Bear Bluff, their respect, and fear, for this gargantuan protector kept them from asking too many questions.  Had they seen him this night, however, more questions may well have been asked.
     “Alright, swine,” he growled at the goblin who was tied up to the chair in his work shed, “what are you doing so far outside of your territory?”
     The goblin swayed in the chair a little.  He had taken a hard knock on the back of the head from Hendrik’s axe just an hour or two earlier and everything was still swimming.  “We don’t have a territory,” he managed, “we go where we can and follow the deer, just like every year.”  
     “That’s a lie and you know it,” Hendrik snarled, “you shouldn’t be this far north and west.  You aren’t hunters, you’re scouts.  And if you are hunting something,” he intoned gravely, “it ain’t deer.”  
     “Yeah, yeah.  We’ve been through this,” the goblin said wearily, “I told you already, if there were other reasons for us to be here we weren’t told what they were.”
     “So tell me again what you saw.  What do you think the Nácta-pé wanted with your chieftain?”
     “I don’t know,” he said through gritted teeth.  He was rewarded with a sharp smack across the back of the head that sent his eyes rolling into the back of his head and darkness swam in again.

     When the goblin awoke found himself tied to a thick tree.  It was about sundown and he was tightly bound about 4 feet off the ground.  Three ropes stretched around the tree and the goblin.  The first rope was across his shoulders, the second across his waist and the final around his knees.  His hands were bound in front of him and his feet were shackled together.  For the first time he was actually looking down on the massive human who had tied him there.
     Hendrik smiled a grim smile at him as he awoke.  “Well, this is it.  Either you tell me what you know about these missing people or I gut you and leave you for the birds.”  At this he looked at a wicked, rusty hook that was dwarfed by his beefy hands.  “Now, what say you?”
     The goblin sobbed, “OK! OK!  I don’t know much but I know that we were ordered out here to find slaves to bring back to the village.  The Great Priest said that the Nácta-pé are payin’ handsomely for every back they can get!”
     “How handsomely?”
     “Thirty Golden Crowns for every able-bodied worker,” he said breathing heavily.
     “And how many people did you kidnap?”
     “Four!  Four!  But I didn’t have nothing to do with it!  We sent them back with Grej and the rest of them days ago!”
     Hendrik laughed a deep belly laugh.  “You didn’t have anything to do with it, eh?”  And with that, he turned on his heels and left the goblin sobbing and struggling against his ropes.