Osten, a mountain among men at 5'9” and 250 pounds of sculpted muscle, strides through the bustling village, his tattered brown loincloth barely containing his Herculean form. Children scamper out of his path, eyes wide in admiration, while elders nod with solemn respect. "Do not fear, good people," he booms, flexing his massive arms for emphasis. "No creature of darkness will threaten Nimrod while Osten stands guard."

Osten pushes through the undergrowth, every muscle rippling beneath his sun-bronzed skin, his beard catching flecks of dew. He pauses, senses alert for the telltale sounds of goblins skulking in the gloom. Suddenly, a soft, melodic voice breaks the silence, alluring and unexpected.

The Damsel, beauty incarnate, beckons to Osten, her eyes wide and inviting. She steps closer, her delicate hands trailing over his vast, hairy chest and shoulders, caressing his strength with reverent awe. "Osten, hero of Nimrod," she whispers, her lips brushing his ear, "lift me in your powerful arms and carry me to the meadow beyond."

Osten[/@ch_1] tries to lift the Damsel. His arms, once mighty, falter—he strains, veins bulging, but she remains unbudged. Confusion and panic flicker in his eyes as he tries again with both arms, to no avail.] "WHAT THE HELL HAS HAPPENED TO MY STRENGTH!" The words thunder through the woods, startling birds into flight. Unseen above, a crooked goblin, grotesque and green with pointed ears and beady eyes, crouches on a branch, a nearly invisible liquid dripping from his gnarled hands onto Osten.

Osten's[/@ch_1] back, his inhuman strength overwhelming.] Goblin, a sinister creature with wiry limbs and a cruel grin, clings to the helpless hero, dragging him by his once-mighty legs toward the fetid, bubbling swamp. The Damsel’s form blurs and vanishes, laughter echoing as illusion gives way to truth. "Now the world shall see what becomes of your strength, fool!"

Osten, unrecognizable, stands before the crowd, his once-massive frame shriveled, voice trembling with shame and sorrow. Villagers stare in disbelief as he explains his fate, his mighty muscles gone, the goblin’s magic having stripped him of all power. "I am Osten, the mighty muscles of Nimrod no more. The goblins have dissolved my strength, left me to show you the cruelty of their magic," he says, voice breaking.

Osten[/@ch_1] sits by a window, needle and thread in hand, piecing together garments for his former neighbors. The once-mighty warrior now lives quietly, learning the gentle art of a seamstress.] Children peer through the window, whispering tales of his former glory, while Osten works with steady hands, a bittersweet peace settling over him. He may never again stand as Nimrod’s champion, but in his quiet resilience, a new kind of strength is born.