The ogre steps forward with a lop-sided gait. As it approaches, it rises up, revealing it is actually an abomination of ogre torsos held together by necromantic power._ Special torments await the depraved souls that devised these unholy, undead amalgamations. An ogrepede is comprised of an unknown number of ogre torsos and heads stitched together, with arms erupting from the mass seemingly at random. Watching it skitter haphazardly about a battlefield is almost hypnotic, right until it reaches its prey and rises to attack. **Vicious Louts.** Mixing and animating ogre parts does nothing to improve their legendary tempers. Even more so than ogres, ogrepedes seek out things to destroy. The more beautiful the creature or object, the more satisfaction the ogrepede derives from its destruction. The lair of the rare ogrepede that has slipped its master’s bonds is full of its debased treasures and, in some instances, the mutilated but still-living victims of their assaults. **Noisy Wanderers.** People are rarely surprised by the arrival of an ogrepede. Unless specifically commanded not to by their creator, ogrepedes emit a constant haunting moan, as though the creature laments all it has lost. Even if told to be silent, ogrepedes are not quiet. Their fat fingers drum noisily at the ground and their bodies slam gracelessly into corridor walls as they careen along on their duties. **Poor Allies.** Ogrepedes have difficulty getting along with other creatures, including other ogrepedes. Vestiges of the craven instincts the ogres possessed in life remain after death, causing the ogrepede to lash out at any creature near it, particularly if the target is already wounded. Even when commanded to work with other creatures by their masters, it is merely a matter of when, not if, an ogrepede will attack its companions; the betrayal is inevitable. **Undead Nature.** An ogrepede doesn’t require air, food, drink, or sleep.