I have many foes, and only my wits and fantastical gadgetry to protect me.  My best defense, thus far, has been shrinking down to less than a centimeter in height (although I am naturally many meters tall, as befits an ogress of my advanced age).  No one ever thinks to find me skittering between their toes, not even after I stick a pin in their nail bed!  (Yes, all those safety pins and sewing needles you "accidentally" step on are my doing!)


But even a miniaturized ogress gets tired after a while, and that is when I repair to my lair.  Initially, it was just a well defended cavern (see image 1).  The east is guarded by random generators.  Only by rolling the correct number combination is entrance granted.  The west is guarded by the frozen bodes of my fallen foes.  I dip them in metal when they fall, and now I have a fearsome wall made entirely out their contorted figures.   But most terrifying of all is the south wall, which I have constructed out of the heads of those who have opposed me.  Upon seeing the wall of heads, many would-be intruders have fallen dead of terror on the spot.


Of course, no lair is complete without the comforts of home.  Note the comfy couch and flower arrangement: it is these domestic touches that give me the strength to carry on.