No ancient tomes tell the tale of Moragon’s coming. As best the old one’s knew, you’d find no damp sack of scrolls in a dark room where some forgotten witnesses recorded how such a powerful sorcerer came into his vast abilities. You’ll find nothing if you searched the deepest reaches of ancient dungeons for engravings and murals on how Moragon seized control of countless legions of bloodthirsty killers and ravaged such a broad swathe of the known world. No great legend-singers bellow about how exactly he became able to kill with a look, skin someone alive with a touch, or shoot fire from his…
Well, if we’re being truthful that’s probably because you’re not sure you’ve ever spoken with someone who could read, it’s not like there are just libraries around the wretched birth pits you crawled out of. If there were golden leaf scrolls laying about, they would long ago have been used to smear the shit from the back of an Ogren, or perhaps now they’d be crusted with the vast river of nose mucus from a giant Trall. As for historic engravings, that’s far from likely either. If one of your dank crew chiseled something into a wall with more detail than a crude cock (ever a favorite), he’d likely be torn apart on the spot by some Orc Khai thinking he’s gone light in the sandles. Legend-singers, well, ok, they’re around… they usually just boom out chants of how Moragon might randomly appear and your eyes will erupt in great gouts of acidic bile if you look directly at his face.
No, these aren’t elves we’re talking about, with their fancy farty banners and prancing lame ass battle dances to pan pipes and whatever those creepy pricks are trying these days. Idiots. These are the forces of absolute evil of which we speak! Yes sir. Moragon’s Maulers is the toughest horde of scales and claws, blades and teeth, Wulves and Drages, and flame and death hereforto imagined in all the damned realm. When they ride en masse it is as though a glacial tide of beast muscle scours the land, leaving only corpses and rivers of blood in their wake. Mountains quake and puny surface dwellers piss themselves dry as they flee.
Hell yes, being a hardcore man-slayer in Moragon’s highly trained brute horde is the greatest feeling under all of great Moragon’s skies!
It’s too bad this isn’t a story about those guys.
You see, not everyone can be an Orc Khai, or a gifted Wrayth, or Ogren Warrior. The great lord conquered the lands of many species while growing his mighty army, and it’s safe to say that some races were perhaps a little easier to conquer than others. The 4 feet tall Skyre Ratmen, the diminutive but scrappy Kobold “Dog Boys”, the even more pathetic swamp dwelling “night fairies”, and several others. Yeah. For every fierce warrior race there’s two more they like to kick aside as they march, send on important missions such as retrieving a bag of frogs for dinner, or just to yank on things that might get wedged in a larger beast’s random orifice.
But hey, it could be worse; they could always be “dark elves”.
Hosted and narrated by:
Lee Perry (MrLeePerry)
Scenes played: 24
License: Community License