Mogrin Dhaegren�houl
Race: Dark-elf
Class: Shapeshifter
Focus: Water
Sphere: Death

A ghoulish drow mage stands before you. Garbed in the skin of a black eel, he emanates a foul odor of decomposing fish. The eel skin suit has been crudely formed around his body and badly decayed. The drow�s skin is translucent, devoid of pigment and a wet slime coats most of his exposed flesh. What little hair he possesses hangs greasily against the sides of his head. His arms are long, slender, and well muscled, more akin to a sea-troll than a true dark-elf. His hands are webbed and his fingernails end in tiny talons which are mottled green. His eyes are yellow, reminiscent of a moray eel; cold, calculating, and murderous.

ROLE: CHAPTER ONE: Pools of Decay
This story begins six decades ago in the City of Strife, Yzekon, the glorious fortification of the grey duergar. Wicked, corrupt, and devious, the duergar warlords have carved out their niche in the horrors of the Underdark for thousands of years. Their demon-king holding a tight clawed fist on the throne of bones. The hunting parties of the duergar are ruthless, bringing back riches, slaves, and spoils of war, all for the greed of the whole. This is where we shall focus, in the household of Grazkak Buthen-cray, General of 2nd Brigade.

Located amongst the district of nobles, the sprawling mansion was heavily fortified and guarded by its own battalion of bugbears and duergar commoners. A cruel general, Grazkak, had affixed a ring of poles around his home, impaled upon were the enemies of his wrath and rage. Rotting corpses of elves, drow, and other duergar adorned the flagpoles of flesh. A green brackish moat provided the final layer of protection to his abode.

Within these walls Graztak kept his riches and members of his family. A brothel of slaves, and pens to contain his enemies filled the catacombed sub-level beneath his home. His soldiers were well kept and his arsenal of weapons amongst the finest in the dark city. Poisoners, metallurgists, and alchemists, worked feverishly to provide his troops with the finest upgrades to their butchery.

On the fated day, six decades ago, on the Day of Deception, in the Month of the Shadow, an emissary party from Teth Azeleth arrived to the door of Grazkak�s home. A drow honor-guard sent from Matron Majien herself, arrived unexpectedly with a missive for Graztak. The details of the missive were simple: The drow matron mother, had offered Grazkak her alliance, in a strike against a svirfneblin outpost near the Undersea. The offer of magical plunder was enough to peek the interest of the greedy general. Matron Majien requested that her eldest daughter, Priestess Beion Majien meet with the general to assist in the planning of the strike, and to represent the interests of the dark-elves in the upcoming battle. The honor guard delivered a small satchel of ensorcelled crossbow bolts and fine rubies as a gift.
General Grazkak was pleased with the offer and immediately agreed to allow the priestess to join his war preparations. As the honor-guard departed back to The Azeleth with his acceptance missive, Grazkak began preparations for his alliance with the drow and the arrival of the priestess.

Gathering his captains he began the arduous task of cleansing his home from drow slaves, some of which were related to Matron Majien herself. All drow slaves under his control were brought to the southern parapets, gutted from throat to navel, and thrown into the brackish moat. The lampreys and organ squid feasted on the flesh as the drow were brought one by one, screaming to their demise.

The focus of this tale lies with one of these drow, Verdressa Dhaegren�houl, a young drow priestess, whom had served Grazkak in his brothel. As the guard�s dragged her by her hair she cursed and screamed blasphemies upon Grazkak and his men. As her robes were torn from her lithe frame it became clear that she was pregnant. One of her hand�s clutched her swollen stomach, as she struggled toward the edge of the parapet. Grazkak laughed and quickly plunged his sword into her chest, opening a vertical slit on her torso. Her infant spilled out, attached by its umbilical cord and dangled in the air above the moat. The priestess gave one final curse, and stumbled over the edge, splashing into the foul water below. She was quite dead when she hit the water.

Grazkak laughed and spat a wad of phlegm down into the moat. His men continued their work with the remaining drow and then returned to the inner quarters to finish the preparations.

Within the confines of the moat, the lampreys and organ squid swam off, sluggish from their huge feast of flesh. Dozens of drow corpses, bobbed in and out of the ichor and slime as tiny crabs and fluke worms nibbled on the decomposing flesh.
A slight ripple broke the surface of the diseased water, and a wrinkled white head sucked a breath of stagnant air. A ghoulish drow infant, black hair matted against its porcelain skinned head clutched the arm of a corpse as it looked about. Yellow feral eyes scanned the surface of the foul moat as it silently drifted in the currents. A few moments passed and the infant�s eyes narrowed to slits. Slipping under the surface of the water it began to look for food.

CHAPTER TWO: Rivers of Blood

�Toss another chunk to the far end,� the duergar hollered to the group of guards standing on the southeast tower. He clutched his barbed spear against the side of his head as he prepared to make another cast into the moat. His other hand held a long coil of rope which was attached to the end of the spear.

The gray dwarves on the tower swung their arms and tumbled a large chunk of rothe flesh over the wall. It splashed in the moat, sending up a wave of slime and putrid debris. The guards peered over the wall and watched intently as the meat began to sink below the surface.

At the other end of the parapet the guard with the spear silently waited. His spear trained on the disappearing rothe meat, he leaned forward and steadied his hand on the side of the wall.

A slight ripple began to move across the surface of the water toward the area where the meat was thrown. The guard grinned as he prepared his strike. As the ripple neared the meat the guard heaved and launched his spear toward the ripple in the moat.

An explosion of water erupted upwards as the spear spiraled on its deadly path. A flurry of motion, brackish water, and slime shot up into the air as a ghoulish form launched itself out of the depths of the moat. It happened instantaneously and the guards barely made out the shape of the form within the black water.

As the spear reached the water�s edge, the form twisted and a slender arm darted out grabbing the shaft. The spear was instantly pulled into the water as the form launched itself in the opposite direction, all the while snapping the rope back toward the lone guard. A coil of rope rippled back toward the guard who had thrown the spear. He was leaning over the wall still in the motion of his spear throw when the rope recoiled back and looped around his shoulder.

The ghoulish form disappeared beneath the surface as the rope began to be pulled quickly in the opposite direction.. The guard braced himself as he tried to free himself from the coil. All ready off balance from his throw, he teetered briefly and then snapped over the edge as he was pulled into the water.

The gray dwarf thrashed as he tried to move to the edge of the moat. Covered in slime and the foul sludge which made up the water, he screamed to the other guards for help. The rope instantly went slack and the other guards began to howl in frustration. A look of terror was etched on the guard�s face as he thrashed in the water. Suddenly he disappeared beneath the surface with an abrupt downward motion. The water stilled moments later and the slime moved in to cover the spot where he had disappeared.

The other guards looked down in horror as they moved away from the wall. Sounds of chewing bubbled up from the moat as the guards contemplated what had just happened.

The following day, General Grazkak ordered the moat be drained and the creature removed. Too intelligent to have it lurking and plotting near his home, Grazkak ordered pumps and by mid-day the water level began to lower in the brackish moat. For two days the pumps operated, spilling the sludge and foul water into the basin of an Underdark river. As the water receded, a foul smell of decayed flesh and fish drifted up through the city of duergar. The smell was overwhelming, and nausea soon followed as the gray dwarves began falling ill from the ripeness of the stench. Finally on the third day, the water was fully drained, leaving behind four feet of sludge, bones, and decomposing meat and plant. Of the creature there was no sign, and the guards surmised that it had escaped into the sewer vents along with the lampreys and squid.

It took several weeks to remove the decayed sludge from the bottom of the moat. The duergar concluded that the creature was now swimming the Underdark rivers and were pleased to have it gone from their abode.

CHAPTER THREE: Lake of Despair
The elven girl crouched at shore and smiled at her reflection in the mirrored surface of the lake. Kneeling on the polished stones she moved from side to side as she gathered up rocks, placing them in the basket at her side. She sung happily to herself as she played at the water�s edge. It was midday and the sun was bright in the cloudless sky. A tan colored cooshee hound padded over to her side and lapped up some water to sate its thirst. It wagged its tail in contentment as it looked towards the elven girl.

A slight ripple broke the surface of the lake causing the hound to cock its head to attention. The little girl wrinkled her nose as a putrid smell drifted out from the center of the lake. Rising to her feet, she covered her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. Both the girl and the hound watched with interest as a small wake formed and began to move toward them.

The cooshee�s hair bristled as it took up a protective stance in front of his mistress. Whispering an elven phrase, the girl calmed the hound and watched with curiosity at the approaching wake. Finally within a few feet the wake stopped, revealing a murky, darkened mass of seaweed and sludge. The little girl gasped as a slender humanoid arm slowly extended from the center of the seaweed. A beautiful silver stone in the middle of it�s webbed hand.

The hound growled and bared its teeth, causing the girl to flinch. She stood bravely, watching the stone being offered to her from the unknown creature. A long moment, passed as the girl stood frozen, watching the unmoving arm and the beautiful stone. The cooshee continued to growl, albeit quieter as it too waited.

After an agonizing moment, the girl took a hesitant step toward the outstretched hand. She slowly extended her hand toward the offered gift. Gingerly she moved closer, all the while the arm remained unmoving with its offering. Finally with a quick movement she darted her hand forward and grabbed the stone.

Instantly the webbed hand snapped around her wrist, ragged claws biting deep into the flesh of her forearm. The girl screamed but once and then was dragged under the lake�s surface.
The cooshee began to howl as the dark morass moved away from the shore toward the center of the lake. It shifted deeper and deeper into the depths until it was lost from sight. Tiny bubbles were soon all that were noticeable on the lake�s surface.

CHAPTER FOUR: Dark Tides
A monstrous frothing wave smashed into the hull of the crippled frigate. A crackle of lightning slivered across the dark night sky as the wind pounded and tossed the doomed ship. Rain pelted the crew who worked feverishly to saw through a broken mast which had fallen back upon the main deck. Forty foot waves made the job even more dangerous as the ship rocked back and forth in the currents.

Surveying the destruction of the ship, was the ship�s first mate, Galain Swiftflen. The captain of the crew had been lost to sea when the falling mast had taken him overboard, leaving Galain in charge of the crew. Realizing lives depended on him for decision he quickly assessed the situation. Galain screamed his frustration as the massive ship began to tip to one side.

Tethering himself to a life raft and with the aid of a small grapple began making his way to the stern end of the ship. One hand on his life vest, the other wielded the grapple hook, as he used it to claw his way along the rail of the ship. The waves and wind pelted against his body, and the trek was dangerous and tiring.

As he reached the aft part of the hull he located the emergency beacon and pulled it with both arms. A shrill whistle broke out over keen of the storm and the beacon blazed forth magical light. The crew looked up from various parts of the ship as the call to abandon ship rang out in the night air. They began to gather to the sides of the life rafts and soon commenced lowering them into the Aryth ocean below.

Galain watched as the last of the crew left the ship before lowering himself into a small raft. The thunder exploded through the sky as he began to row away from the sinking ship. He got no more than fifty yards from the wreck when a massive wave twisted the ship onto its side. It sunk quickly beneath the surface leaving the tiny life rafts in its wake.

Several hours passed as the remaining men gathered the rafts together with rope and barrels. The storm dissipated as quickly as it had struck, leaving a red sky and frothing surf behind. Battered and bloodied, the men huddled to the rafts as the currents carried them in a circular path.

As the day dragged on Galain counted the supplies that were saved and recorded them in his water-proof log. The morale of the men was poor as they realized they were days away from land and powerless to escape the currents. Deciding to record the events in case they perished at sea, Galain began to write the occurrence in his log book.


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The following journal was found floating in a empty water barrel in the Arkham harbor. It bore the marks of the Lady of Fate, Frigate Trade Ship of the Seantryn Empress.
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Day One: The men are worried and hungry. Keeping rations tight. Unable to catch fish, the bad luck seems to follow. Wounded are kept to middle of rafts. 21 men. 100 nautical miles north of Seantryn harbor. Weather is improving and we should be able to reach the Straits of North Sea if all is well.

Day Two: Night was cloudy, unable to locate stars for bearings. Morale good, though hungry. Unable to catch fish, though spotted a sea bird. 1 man died during the night from his previous wounds. Few black-tip sharks spotted, have two men with gaffs ready to try to capture one for food if they get close.

Day Three: Lost some rations in night. Men angry. Some fighting ensued. Still unable to capture fish. Half dozen sharks now, wont come close. Few men are sick. Bad smell of rotting fish follows the rafts.

Day Four: Lost a man in the night. Stench in the waves. Sharks are gathering in numbers, still wont come close. Hunger setting in now, water supplies low. Sky is still cloudy, no bearings yet. No signs of birds, or ships.

Day Five: Stench following us. More men getting sick. Vomit seems to be attracting more sharks. Water low. Lost another man in night.

Day Six: Sharks everywhere. Sickness with me now. Stench is here. Eyes playing tricks. Crew are scared. Three men lost in night.

Day Seven: Stench wont dissipate. More men lost in night. Something swims with the sharks. Humanoid. I am weak and tired.

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OVERVIEW:
Murderous spite and rage, fuels the devious mind of Mogrin. A disgusting creature of the Underdark, he hunts duergar over all other races. Intelligent, wicked, and deceitful, Mogrin preys on anything that he can consume and torture. Surviving in the Underdark rivers, has given him a cruel, cautious nature, necessary for survival. Surface dwellers he sees only as a means to an end, his goal being to gain mastery of the depths. His greatest pleasure is taking the life from living beings, to feel their suffering as they expire.

His dark gift lies in magical art of shapeshifting. He mimics creatures found in the ocean depths but has also been known to follow the movements of seabirds as they move from various bodies of water. As he continues to grow in power he has expanded his reach outwards into deeper sources of water. The dark abysses of the oceans contain ancient untapped horror, and Mogrin is becoming an abomination in himself.

Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torment of man.