He waited for a day and another day, but Slitter hadn’t had showed up. Mogrul was convinced his guard would be drinking with the reavers, but that didn’t seem to be case at all. He had lost contact with Sildras’ gang, too. Without Slitter or Sildras’ gang he couldn’t contact the other gangs. He had been… isolated from his allies.
Mogrul slammed his fist onto the small table, making it creak under his fist. He was trembling from acrimony. No one had ever played against him like this before. How can a kid play such games again with him? Who is he? Was he sent here to destroy him? Mogrul growled in frustration. Each time he looked at the kid he got the brooding smirk that promised to take everything away that he had built.
And, Mogrul had heard his the base of his dream slowly eroding away.
The Orc grabbed the chair and smashed it against the table, breaking the chair into pieces and splinters of wood. I’m losing everything because of that little shit! I should have killed him myself! He was breathing heavily as he stared at his hands, shaking. I should have…
It felt like… nobody wasn’t there backing for him anymore. I still should have the guards on my side. I think.
You think? Mogrul shook his head.
The five reavers he had brought into the town were now three. Two of them had disappeared while he hadn’t been watching. What good were they anyway?
He closed his eyes for a moment, but opened them again abruptly. It was the nightmare that he had pushed away… But it came back to him. Taunting him with its black hand extended whenever he closed his eyes. It didn’t allow him to have rest. If I try to sleep, it tries to get me. Mogrul was sure of that. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly and it was getting to him, too.
His thoughts returned to the days of glory and profit with Slitter beside him. Those days were now gone. He’d come to Solstheim to build his playground where he would be the Kingpin he’d envisioned of becoming. His kingdom after he’d bent the Dunmer by his will and power.
And, what power is that?
Mogrul bared his tusks. I have the power.
You never had the power, Mogrul. You’re nothing but a sad little Orc. A Pathetic Orc. Without your reavers and Slitter you’re… nothing.
You control nothing.
Mogrul grabbed the table and tossed against the wall. “I still have power!” he screamed like a child clinging to his favorite toy. He didn’t want to believe the voice in his head, whispering to him. It made him mad as he grabbed the nearest item within his reach and threw it against the wall as if he had seen a face on it. He hated it and everyone that looked at him the wrong way. Especially that Councilor Morvayn and his watch dog Adril Arano. Mogrul hated them all.
He could hear them laughing at him while he wasn’t around. They had become more confident since the kid arrived on Solstheim.
He wanted to cling to his happy dream that was shattering like a falling wine glass. Mogrul felt himself helpless as he fell on his knees in the middle of his room, he brought his hands up to his face.
He barely remembered how he grew up. The slavers had found him after he was abandoned in a place he couldn’t remember anymore. Their female leader had taken him under her wing and saw him as a potential future ally, perhaps even a friend. She taught him the ways of slavers and had said, “One day, Mogrul, you’ll become like us. Shape your own way of life and have several slaves.” She had smiled at him.
Then Mogrul had joined in a slave raid to get experience and his path had crossed with Slitter, who wanted to join the slavers. But, after a shared meal, they decided to wander off and find their own fortune. During their travels together, Slitter had proven to be a useful friend. He had been there when he needed some muscle to shake people up. They shared the money as good friends.
After long travels and blackmailing people on their way, they ended up on Solstheim where Mogrul had discovered Raven Rock was ruled by the House Redoran. Slitter had given him information about them and Mogrul thought to use it for his own good. He started to lend money to the Dunmer. Oh, what fun it was to blackmail them! He had to hurt them, too, to keep them in their place and it had been a good year…
Until the kid arrived. Mogrul’s thoughts returned to the present. He growled. The kid still, in his mind, flashed a dark smirk at him. How he dares to defy me! Raven Rock will be mine! Mogrul got on feet and his hands balled into fists. A grim idea had bloomed in his mind while a vile smile spread on his lips.
I know what to do.
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Note: Dedicated to all who loves to hate Mogrul.
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