PoTM: Chapter 29, Total Recall

  • The Ancestors are among us. They are never farther away than the Waiting Door.


    The Ancestors are not departed. The dead are not under the earth. Their spirits are in the restless wind, in the fire's voice, in the foot-smoothed step. Pay heed to these things, and you will know your absent kin.


    Pay reverence through gift and prayer. Acquaint the Ancestors with your affairs, with your comings and goings, with your blessings and trials.


    From the Waiting Door comes your protection. Heed the spirits, who are the guardians of your hearth, teachers of wisdom, counselors of fortune, seers of fate.


    Each bone is a door through the wall of the world. Each bone is the road, with Wisdom and Power the travelers. Each bone is the ghost fence that guards us from evil.


    Honor the Ancestors upon your hearths, within your halls, in the community of your temples, in the solitude of your tombs.


    Guard your Ancestors from beasts, from thieves, from profane priest and sorcerers. Let no creature steal your spirits, for the plundered hearth is diminished, and the plundered tomb is shamed.


    Live in One World with your spirits. Honor the spirits within and without you. Do not grieve for the dead. Take shelter in their arms, and pay heed to their words.


    3rd of Sun’s Dawn, 4E 204


    Darelon and his crew had watched as the residents of Tel Mithryn burned their dead before nightfall, the pyres blazing in unison with the setting sun. It had been only a modest funeral which told Darelon the two dead didn’t hold an important rank within House Telvanni. He would even argue that one of them even wasn't a member of the House.


    After that, he and his crew retreated from the area near Tel Mithryn, heading north past the Sun Stone where they made camp among some fallen trees. He wasn't expecting much activity in the settlement, so there was no need to keep an eye on it. What they needed was to keep an eye on the Sun Stone.


    Every night people worked on the stone, Reavers and sometimes even residents of Tel Mithryn and Darelon had this great plan of killing their target when he was caught sleepwalking and working on the stone. Come the morning he would be just gone, no one would be the wiser about what happened to him. The only problem was that the Orc never showed up at the stone. All the other residents of Tel Mithryn showed up in the course of the two weeks Darelon and his crew were watching the settlement, but the Orc didn't. As well as the magister, of course, but that didn't surprise Darelon.


    Somehow, he just couldn't imagine that magister working with a chisel and hammer, sleepwalking, forced to work on the stone. He couldn't imagine it no matter how hard he tried. He didn't think it was because he lacked the imagination, it was just that someone such as Master Neloth was very difficult to imagine with his hands dirty. He'd most likely wouldn't even know how to hold a hammer, Darelon mentally snorted.


    When the morning came, Darelon found himself being woken up by his companions, telling him that the Orc had left Tel Mithryn. And by the direction he went, he was heading towards Raven Rock.


    The Reavers packed their camp in haste and ran through the hills, getting ahead of the Orc. Darelon always counted with the possibility they wouldn’t accomplish killing the Orc at the Sun Stone, so he prepared a perfect spot for an ambush. If the Orc was heading to Raven Rock he would go along the coast, and before he reached Fort Frostmoth, he would change direction, to the north, walking around it, and then fall back to the coast. It only made sense because the fort had been swarming with Ash Spawn for years, it was only reasonable to avoid it.


    And so Darelon planned an ambush just north of the fort.


    They got ahead of the Orc, hiding among the burnt trees and in one moment Darelon silently ordered them to lay down into the ash, because the Orc stopped. He was quite a distance away, but it seemed like he looked in their direction. Darelon stopped breathing for a second, because there was no way in Oblivion he could see them. The Orc then continued and the Dunmer Reaver allowed himself to breath again.


    “That was close,” the other Reaver, a Dunmer called Meryleth whispered and Darelon threw him a look, reminding him to keep his opinions to himself. Meryleth was their archer, he would be the first one to strike at their target. The other one was another Nord, named Drom, and he carried a big mace and shield with him.


    “Just make sure you have your weapons strapped,” Darelon murmured as he ordered them to move again. The telekinesis was a nasty spell, capable of disarming any weapon and so Darelong told his men to tie their weapons to their hands, so that they couldn't be ripped from their grasps and used against them.


    They reached the place, a series of boulders buried in the ground as if they had been tossed there by an angry giant, obscuring the vision of anyone who would venture among them. A perfect place for an ambush.


    The Orc had to pass their way, so Darelon positioned Meryleth at the boulder to the left. Their target would pass that boulder first, which would position Meryleth behind the Orc, allowing him to take a clear shot. Drom was hiding to the right and Darelon would be in front of the Orc, getting his attention. It was a good plan.


    And so they waited, hidden. Ready to strike the moment the Orc's footsteps came close enough.


    Darelon frowned. He should have arrived by now.




    Darelon spun around in a fright after hearing that cheerful voice and he could have sworn that there was a flash of green light. He blinked and realised the Orc was standing in front of him and he was about to shout at Meryleth to shoot, but then he suddenly changed his mind. The Orc looked perfectly harmless. There was no danger.


    “Ya followed me from Tel Mithryn,” the Orc said and Darelon was prepared to lie, but he realised he couldn't. Why should he? Something about the Orc was making him relaxed, like he hadn't been in years. He knew he could trust him.


    “Yes. Sera Mogrul told us to kill you,” he said, noticing Meryleth and Drom walking out from their hiding spots, their eyes glassy, focused on the Orc.


    “Me?” the Orc smiled. “But I'm not the Orc y’are looking for.”


    And Darelon felt that was the truth. He couldn't deny it. “You are not the Orc we are looking for,” he murmured and shook his head, cursing himself for how stupid he was. How could he mistake this Orc with their target? “He's not the Orc we're looking for,” he said to his companions.


    “I actually think I've seen him headin’ north, towards Riekling’ territory,” Darelon's new friend - for he surely had to be his friend because Darelon trusted him - said, pointing towards the hills in the north.


    “He's as good as dead then,” Meryleth observed.


    “Maybe ya should make sure,” the Orc suggested and Darelon nodded, turning towards Meryleth with frustration.


    “He's right! Sera Mogrul would have our skins if we didn’t make sure, you idiot!”


    The green-skin chuckled and waved his hand towards the hills. “Ya should hurry then. I heard he’s fast and sneaky. Just sayin’.”


    “We should hurry,” Darelon repeated and started towards the hills, with his companions close behind him. “Because he’s fast and sneaky…”

    Grulmar watched the three fools climb up the slope and disappear behind the horizon and he shook his head. Well, guess that means Mogrul doesn't like me. He shrugged and continued his journey to Raven Rock, unphased by the fact. It was actually making him slightly angry, because if this was everything Mogrul was willing to spare on Grulmar, it was quite disappointing. Bet Shiny got way more.


    Well, don't be that surprised, matey. Ya made a complete idiot out of yerself in front of that Orc, he has all rights to underestimate ya. And yet… And yet Mogrul still sent his henchmen after him, which meant Grulmar had overestimated his play against Mogrul. It certainly complicated things, because he needed those things he ordered and now he needed several ingredients for Elynea.


    The mycologist had recognized the disease, explaining that there was already one account of this kind of toxin being used to poison a magister. It had been sometime in second Era, used against Mistress Dratha. Elynea had said it was quite clever, and if she hadn't read about it, Neloth could have died. So she had gave Grulmar a list of rare ingredients she lacked and sent him to Raven Rock.


    And so he went, with a grimace of distaste. But it needed to be done.


    And the bandits? It had been just a hunch, this itch on his back as if someone was watching him. And so he cast a potent spell allowing him to detect life, revealing the three red clouds of mist - because that was how he saw the living creatures - shadowing him.


    It was near the ruined fort that he realized that he was being led into an ambush and only a complete idiot wouldn't recognize the spot for an ambush. So he had cast an aura concealing his movement and walked right through them. Only to then have some fun.


    Ya could have just been on yer way, matey, so why did ya stop? Why did ya flex yer magickal muscles? Most likely because he could. Power was starting to become an addiction, one he couldn't resist. There were times when he was scared, when he was ready to run like a rabbit at the first time of trouble, but now? He wanted some trouble - basically any excuse to feel the magic surging through his body, flooding his senses. The world, the people, the events, all bending to his will. How could one not become addicted to that?


    He stopped for a second, narrowing his eyes. That right there. Yes, that, matey. Is that sudden confidence talkin’ in yer head? Or are ya mistakin’ it for arrogance? ‘Cause there's a very thin line between confidence and arrogance. Ya can be confident when ya know ya can influence the outcome of events, when ya believe in yer own abilities and skills to get ya through, which is precisely why confidence borders arrogance, for isn't arrogance an overestimation of yer own capabilities? Ya think ya can win, that y’are better, but ultimately y’are just blinded by yer own pride. Ah, pride, is that the element of transmutation here?


    What makes a great mage? Is it the raw power? The potential? A good looking hat? It's not like there's a set of rules to that. If there was somethin’ like that it would probably sound like some cookin’ recipe. “If thou want to be a mage of great renown, thou has to mix a potent brew of confidence and bravado, with a pinch of arrogance and a handful of caution to balance it, as well as a large dose of sacrifice and willingness to take risks.”


    The Orc then snorted and shook his head. “Ya will make a damn fine mage then, matey. Now off with ya to find yerself a fine hat.”

    Grulmar entered Raven Rock, this time lucky the guard stationed at the Bulwark recognized him and let him in without any problems. As soon as he arrived at the market square, he noticed how the place was even more lively since the last time he visited. There was definitely more guards around, which meant the Redoran Council had sent reinforcements now that the mine was open and pumping Ebony.


    He noticed Glover working his forge, his hand seemingly healed and the Orc narrowed his eyes. It probably wasn't a good idea to say hello to him, not after their last exchange. No, instead of that, he headed towards the modest alchemical shop directly opposite the smith, where a Dunmer woman was bent over her alchemy table.


    Grulmar cleared his throat and she looked up, her eyes widening for a moment, almost as if she mistook him for someone else - and Grulmar had a pretty good idea who she expected. She then put on a polite smile. “Sorry, got distracted by my work. What can I do for you?”


    Grulmar pulled a paper from his pocket, the list of ingredients Elynea needed to cure the tower. “I need,” he frowned and looked at the paper, “two Nirnroots, one bowl of Spriggan Sap, a pinch of Fire Salts and…” He paused for a second, raising his eyebrows. “Well, five bowls of troll's fat and one Daedra heart.”


    The alchemist raised her eyebrows at that. “I might scrounge all that, but Daedra heart? Do you know how valuable that is?”


    “Well, as a matter of fact I do,” the Orc snorted. “Back in Skyrim, they'd want eight hundred drakes for it.” That was a lie of course, Daedra hearts were worth more than a thousand for each, but he didn't want to say that out loud, otherwise he would really have to pay that much for it.


    She grimaced at that. “If I had a Daedra heart, I wouldn't sell it for less than nine hundred,” she pursed her lips.


    Grulmar just shook his head at that. She had the heart and she had it for a very long time no doubt, because no one in this shithole could afford one. And he wasn't exactly in the mood for bargaining. He pulled his sack over his shoulder and opened it. “Listen, lady, I don't really feel like arguin’. The heart’s too expensive and nobody here will take it off yer hands.” He turned the sack upside down, emptying it on her counter. Nuggets of gold, silver, ebony and several other precious metals rolled out on the counter and she looked at the collection of precious metals with wide eyes. “All this for the heart and the rest of the ingredients. Deal or no deal?” he pushed.


    She didn't even hesitate. She quickly swept the nuggets off the counter into a bag and then lifted it with a grunt. “Deal. Just give me a second, I'll get you the ingredients.” She crouched behind the counter, searching through the shelves in.


    At least somethin’ good comes from killin’ Ash Spawn, he thought. Killin’? More like destroyin’. Ya can't really kill what's already dead.


    “By the way, sera. Have you heard the news?”


    Grulmar frowned, leaning against the counter. “What news?”


    “Ship from Solitude docked few days ago,” the Dunmer began while she was going through her stock, occassionaly checking the list Grulmar gave her. “Emperor has been assassinated.”


    The Orc felt his eyes widen in shock, his jaw nearly hitting the counter. “Emperor? As ‘The Emperor’? ‘The Emperor of Cyrodilic Empire’?”


    “The one and only,” she murmured. “Ah, here it is. Yes, he has been assassinated when he was visiting Skyrim for some reason. The word is that he and whole crew of his galleon were massacred not very far from Solitude. People say it was the Dark Brotherhood.” He heard her snort at that. “People say lot of things. Could well be that Morag Tong is on the rise again. Or maybe that...uhm, what was his name? Thunder-Cloak? The jarl of Windhelm, the one leading the rebellion. Yes, maybe that one did that.”


    Grulmar shook his head in disbelief. Emperor Mede dead, killed. Just… bloody shit! And whole galleon massacred? Doesn’t sound like Dark Brotherhood to me. Wouldn’t be so surprised if Ulfric Farts-Under-His-Cloak ordered that though. He kept shaking his head, clearly shocked by those news. Who’s goin’ to rule the Empire now? Heard the Emperor has a son, Attrebus the Second - or the Seventeenh, who gives a shit? Rumors were he didn’t take much after his father.


    “I have the rest of the ingredients inside my house. Will you look after my shop in the meantime? I’ll be right back.” She disappeared inside the house behind her and Grulmar sighed.


    “If that isn't my favourite investor or I'll have to get my eyes checked by a healer,” a familiar voice sounded behind him and Grulmar sighed again. Well, ya wanted to see him anyway, so why the irritation? He turned around, looking into Mogrul's ugly face and his eyes flickered at Sapphire behind him.


    “Ya spared me the trouble of lookin’ for ya it seems,” he snorted, very poorly hiding his displeasure.


    The bigger Orc’s grin got even wider as he raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Is that so? More business?”


    “Ya very well know why I'm here. Where’s my shit?”


    Mogrul chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Ha! ‘Where's my shit?’” he imitated Grulmar's voice and looked at Sapphire with cheerful glee. “I love that. No messing around, just cutting right to the chase. He's beginning to sound like you, darling.” He then turned back to Grulmar, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye. “Where's your shit?” Mogrul leaned closer, his eyes sparkling with a vile fire. “Have you looked up your arse?”


    Grulmar clenched his jaws and he could see Sapphire slowly shaking her head, mouthing a silent “no”. She knew Grulmar well, but not well enough it seemed, because trying stop a fire was pointless once it had begun to spread. “Don't have to,” Grulmar grimaced. “I see one piece of shit right in front of me, but it's not that shit I came here for.”


    Mogrul bared his teeth at Grulmar, growling into his face. “No longer playing the village idiot I see,” he said in a dangerously low voice. “You better watch that tone, brother.”


    “Yeah? Or else? Ya sure ya want to provoke Neloth?”


    Mogrul then grinned as if he just won a game of dice. “Neloth? That old fucker? Is he going to pop out of the air and blast me into pieces?” He shook his head, narrowing his eyes. “That's not what I've heard. And want to know what I've heard? That Tel Mithryn got attacked by over a score of Ash Spawn and guess what? That shithead magister couldn't be even arsed to show up and lift a finger to defend his own tower and its residents. Let's face it, brother. He doesn't give a single shit about you or anyone else. I could snap your neck right here, right now, and he wouldn't even notice you're gone.”


    Now it was time for Grulmar to bare his tusks - which was giving him a slight advantage, because he still had both of them while Mogrul had only one. “If ya could do it, ‘right here, right now,’” the steward of Tel Mithryn now imitated Mogrul's voice for a change, “then why did ya send those three tuskin’ idiots?” That made the larger Orc pause, frowning. “Yeah, they were not really subtle. But it still makes me wonder. Why them and not ya?” Grulmar looked around with a smirk. “I think, ya can't do it, not here. Ya lost control, the new guards aren’t in yer pocket like the old ones.”


    “Are you two bloody done comparing tusks?” Sapphire suddenly growled, shaking her head in annoyance. “Men,” she snorted. “Doesn't matter what race you are, you always have to compare who has the bigger...something. Tusks, dicks, balls, eyebrows, feathers, whiskers… Whatever.” She buried her gaze into Mogrul. “Should I get him the shit then or not?”


    The bigger Orc released a chuckle, staring at Grulmar, but pointing at Sapphire. “Hear that shit? She really doesn't fuck around. Yeah, sure, let's stop this bullshit and settle this like Orcs. Outside Raven Rock. What do you say?”


    Grulmar grimaced at that. When a comparing tusks wasn't enough, it was only logical to grab something sharp and settle it with an inch of cold steel in the other person’s gut. One of the hard truths of life. The race or nation didn't really matter in this instance. Bretons dueled with swords, mages with their spells and Orcs settled their disputes with fists. “And what do ya say about shoving yer own head up yer arse?” he spat on the ground. “Neither me or ya are proper Orcs anymore, so stop pretendin’. So I’ll make it simple. Get. Me. My. Shit.”


    “Or what? Are you going to play an idiot again and talk me to death?” Mogrul snorted.


    “Nah,” the Telvanni steward shook his head, smirking. “I'll tell ya to pay me Neloth's investment along with the interest.” Mogrul's eyes hardened after that, but Grulmar wasn't finished. “‘Cause accordin’ to the contract ya and Varona signed the steward of Tel Mithryn can request to be paid in full along with the interest, with a moderate fee of steppin’ down from the contract. Which should be around one thousand hands.”


    Mogrul stared at him without a blink, chewing the inside of his cheek and Grulmar could see how Sapphire was resisting the urge to slap her forehead. Mogrul's eyes then cheered up and he flashed a grin. “You know what? I'm down for that. Let's get you your money.”


    Grulmar couldn't help himself but frown in confusion, which only made Mogrul laugh even more. He certainly didn't see that coming. “Really? All fifteen thousand hands plus the interest?”


    “Yeah,” Mogrul shrugged. “I'll get the bloody Telvanni off my back, at least. But there's always a catch, brother. You want your shit? You're going to have to buy it.”


    “Doesn't seem like that big of a deal, since I'll have more than thirty thousand drakes,” Grulmar murmured, still frowning. He felt like he was missing something and then it hit him. “But let me guess. If I'm goin’ to sign that, we’re goin’ to yer house, right? Nice and quiet there, away from pryin’ eyes. I'm not that stupid. What guarantee do I have ya won’t snap my neck there?”


    “Oh, that hurts my feelings, you know,” Mogrul chuckled and then simply shrugged. “I guess you'll just have to trust me.”


    “Bring the shit here and I'll sign it right here, in public.”


    “No,” simply stated. “Want your money and stuff? Man up. We'll sign it at my place.”


    The alchemist then walked out with the bag of ingredients and she noticed Grulmar talking with Mogrul. She stopped dead in her tracks for a second, and then she continued towards the counter. She put the bag on the counter. “Here you go, sera,” she murmured, pushing the bag towards Grulmar.


    He nodded and began stuffing it into his sack.


    “Good day, sera Mogrul,” she mumbled at the bigger Orc.


    “Good day,” the Orc tapped on his upper lip as if contemplating something. “I've always wondered about that greeting. What does it mean? Does it mean you wish me a good day? Or you wish you had a good day? Or maybe it's just a statement, that this is a good day.” Everyone stared at Mogrul in silence and he raised his eyebrows. “Well? What is it then?” he looked at the alchemist.


    “I...statement. I think,” the Dunmer woman stammered.


    Mogrul grinned at that. “Well, in that case a good day, indeed. A damn good productive day, I say!” he raised his voice, getting the attention of most of the people in the market who threw him a look and then quickly averted it. “So what do you say, brother?” Mogrul looked at Grulmar with a smirk. “Is this going to be a productive day for you as well?”


    The Telvanni steward rubbed his goatee between his thumb and forefinger, staring back at Mogrul. Think Grulmar, think, tusk damn it! If ya go with him, ya sign, and he gives ya the money. He'll lose a considerable sum he has in his keepin’, but isn't really his. He doesn't let that bother him no doubt. So if ya sign, any ties to Neloth will be severed and ya will end up as food for the fishes most likely. If ya don't sign… Well, he wouldn't get the things Neloth wanted. Did it really matter though? Neloth was pretty much dying and only the ingredients that were already in Grulmar's sack could save him. So he got what he came to Raven Rock for. Maybe Neloth wouldn’t even remember the things he wanted me to get. He resisted the urge to shake his head. Yeah, keep hopin’, matey. He'll definitely remember. The tusker would haunt ya even if he'd somehow ended up dead.


    It didn't look really good for him. Sign, end up as food for the fish. Don't sign, don't get Neloth his shit, and ya will end up as...food for Dremora or somethin’! Good tuskin’ day indeed!


    “Fine,” he sighed. “Let's do it.”


    Mogrul grinned and motioned towards his house. Grulmar grimaced at that and the bigger Orc just shrugged. “Alright, if you'd follow me then,” he chuckled, heading towards his house, Grulmar and Sapphire closely behind him.


    The Nord was throwing him looks with raised eyebrows, basically telling him he's very much already dead. Or that I'm a stupid idiot or somethin’. Not a very big difference for Sapphire. He took a deep breath and cast a quick spell, focusing on Mogrul. The Orc in front of him was glowing with several enchanted items, mostly those blocking arcane spells such as illusions. Which isn’t good. Ya won’t Illusion yer way out of this, matey.


    But there were also other options.


    They reached the house and Grulmar followed Mogrul inside, his hands close to the knives in his bandolier. They were met by Slitter and Mogrul told him to bring some paper, while he led Grulmar to the trophy room.


    Once Slitter brought the paper, Mogrul began writing the contract and Grulmar looked around, frowning. “Could I see the things I ordered first?”


    “You think I'm lying?” Mogrul stopped and raised his eyebrows.


    “Sort of. Can ya blame me? Just don't believe ya really could get all the shit,” the Telvanni Orc shrugged.


    “I'm more surprised you don't want to see the gold first,” Mogrul chuckled. “Makes me wonder what I actually got you? Slitter? Bring the shit here, so that our guest can check if it’s real.”


    He then continued writing and Slitter disappeared in the back. Sapphire was leaning against the wall, staring at Grulmar with narrowed eyes. You are planning something. That's what was she telling by that look and he shrugged, trying to play along. He certainly didn't want to make her life more complicated by giving away that he knew her.


    Slitter brought a bag and tossed it at Grulmar's feet, along with a staff. If it was really Azra's staff...Well, Grulmar couldn't say even if he wanted to, so he opened the bag, looking inside. A book. Title says Wind and Sand. Check. Briarheart. Check. Grand soul gems and...black soul gems. Check. There were other things there and it seemed like it was all Neloth wanted.


    “Satisfied?” Mogrul snorted while he handed him over the paper. “Here. Read it carefully if you don’t trust me. Don't want you to sign something you don't like after all.”


    Grulmar began reading through it, everything being well in order. The interest was much higher than he expected and he wondered how he was supposed to carry that much gold out of Raven Rock. Well, ya have to survive first. “Seems alright,” he mumbled. “So I sign this, I get the gold, I buy this stuff from ya and then ya just let me walk away?”


    “You have my word,” Mogrul smirked.


    “Hmm,” Grulmar murmured, eyeing the paper. “Why don't ya just scratch the sum off from the final number? I mean the sum ya want me to pay for the stuff.”


    Mogrul didn't say anything and Grulmar frowned.


    “How much exactly do ya want for the things?” he dared to ask, even though he already began to suspect he might not like the answer.


    The bigger Orc grinned at that. “Fiteen thousand hands plus interest.”


    Tusk. Grulmar stared at him, at that big stupid grin.


    “If you want to make it out of here alive, you should really sign that,” Mogrul was handing him the quill. “You can call it friendly advice.”


    The smaller Orc looked at the quill, at Mogrul, at the contract, at Slitter and then lastly at the bag and the staff. Tusk this!


    He reached into the streams of magicka and closed his eyes.


    The room exploded with a bright flash of light.


    Grulmar grabbed the bag and the staff and focused on the magickal combination in the distance, feeling it call to him. He reached for it and… Recalled.

    Sapphire stumbled, her eyes feeling as if they were on fire, bright dots constantly flashing under her closed eyelids. She heard painful growls from Mogrul somewhere in the the room. She suddenly tripped and fell down, managing to get her hands under her, slowing the fall to the floor.


    “Son of a motherfucking cunt!” Mogrul roared in anger behind her.


    She got on all fours, with her hands searching the floor in front of her, slowly crawling towards the stairs leading outside of the house - or at least where she thought the stairs were. “That was just stupid,” she growled. “Bloody stupid. Couldn't you wait to tell him the price until after he signed up?”


    The Orc growled and she could hear the breaking of something wooden.


    She kept crawling towards the stairs.



7 Comments   |   Ben W and 9 others like this.
  • Sotek
    Sotek   ·  June 30
    Power near always beocmes an addiction. One not so easily cured as some....
    It's always the furniture that comes off worse lol
  • Caladran
    Caladran   ·  March 21
    Grulmar disappears and Mogrul starts breaking furnitures. xD Gotta love Grulmar!
  • Hworra
    Hworra   ·  January 3
    Hahahahahaa, Mogrul done tusked up again. I'd pay to be there just to see the stupid expression frozen on his face as Gru teleports away.

    And I'm surprised how well a couple of Orcs can channel their inner Obi-Wan and Gandalf x.x
  • Paws
    Paws   ·  December 30, 2017
    Grul as Obi-Wan was cool, not to mention the "tusk this." But what stands out is that Neloth had the same fungal infection as Dratha. Has he been dipping it into a chick who has been dead for two hundred years? He'd have a hard time explaining that at the...  more
  • Teineeva
    Teineeva   ·  November 30, 2017
    I love Grul
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  November 30, 2017
    Hmm, when I get to work, I'll sort out some of the missing images and stuff. Grulmar at his some of his cleverest, I think. If Mogrul wasn't pissed at our favorite Orc, he sure will be. 
  • Ben W
    Ben W   ·  November 29, 2017
    Well well well... sneaky thief-mage. Well played