Recent content by Mogrin Dhuumal

Fury coursed through Mogrin's veins. Betrayal stabbed at his heart. A deep cultural wound festered acidicly in his spirit. Would his fallen kin, their sacred torques, just be left there in the bloodied ground of the Westlurch Pass? That would be the best outcome, and correspondingly was it slim...

THE TEMPLAR BARRACKS Mogrin, too, had a change in demeanor when he heard of Kurabh's origin. Distinct from Irene, his surprise and receptiveness did involve his own people, the Maulgar. Ogres were dotted about in Arethil in a few different locales, and not always did these disparate tribes see...

THE TEMPLAR BARRACKS Mogrin knew that look in Claire's eyes. Ogres weren't particularly a common sight in civilization, and many of the tribes throughout Arethil were harbingers of destruction and conquest, his own ancestors, until the intervention of Andreas Gildal, among them. Orcs, Mogrin...

The peace-keepers made a decision which helped Mogrin's time not to become...complicated. Perhaps one understated advantage of being human, or at least looking very much like them in form and size, was that they were the most plentiful people upon Arethil. One could blend in to a crowd. The...

Mogrin let the peace-keepers move forward without trouble. They had to do what they had to do. But he wasn't just going to sit there and let things proceed under some kind of wrongful assumption. "You there," he said in general to the two peace-keepers, setting down his collection of tankards...

Summoned by killjoys fleeing from the tavern, Shallows peace-keepers burst in through the front door, three of them. The group surveyed the interior and got a quick assessment of the brawl. All three sets of eyes fell upon Aeyliea and Kindly, still standing, still fighting, and they made their...

Only twenty-six. And yes, Thal was quite right, that number meant something far different for an elf than it did for, say, an ogre. Thal stared down the yawning maw of a mortality that could easily last for ten times the length of Mogrin's own—the very thought was dizzying. To him it seemed that...

The ruckus likely wouldn't last too much longer. From the doorman finally making his move, to those who had hastily departed summoning the muscle that counted for guards down in the Shallows, time was running short. And that, for Aeyliea, was crucial. Because there was nothing more...

"Yes. Praetor." And with that, Mogrin forced his way out of the defensive circle, toward his ogres, intent on organizing them and telling them the plan and their part in it.

Mogrin felt his head already shaking before he even consciously knew it was shaking. "No," he said defiantly. "No, we Maulgar will not leave our dead. You lot can abandon yours. But we will not." "Madi, come now, we don't have time for this," Kegbreaker said. "We have to go now." "The risk is...

"We can, and we will. My ogres will carry our own," Mogrin asserted. "It's not that, madi," Kegbreaker said, calling him friend in the Old Gildan tongue to soften the blow. "It's the danger," said Arndel, picking up where the dwarf left off. "The risk. Bringing corpses into our midst while our...

"Let us collect our dead, and be about it," Mogrin said. This was foremost on his mind, and without any thought to the foe they were facing. Because to Mogrin, it went without question that Maulgar dead, their torques, needed to be recovered. To abandon them on the battlefield was shameful for...

Mogrin's face pressed into one of hard, realistic consideration. He glanced down the pass and toward the barricade of boulders and fallen trees. Handy work, for a bunch of stupid gretches, even if they had help from Curites. Dismantling a portion of it he thought was certainly possible, though...

"The Ixchel Wilds," Mogrin mused. "I was just thinking about how difficult it would be to sleep there, if even the Delta which precedes it is this noisy at night. Hmmm. But how would I know? This marks the farthest east that I have ever been from my homeland in Campania. One could hear tales of...

There was a saying, originating in the deserts of the west with their folktales but having spread far and wide to the point of ubiquity, that went something like this: be careful what you wish for, you might just get it. For Mogrin, he needn't be careful, he did get exactly what he wanted, and...