Board Thread:General Discussion/@comment-11204276-20130706020455/@comment-66.87.64.232-20160730073302

My first encounter with Mogrul instantly set my blood aboil. However, I am a man who believes in redemption, so I let his blatant disrespect slide for a time.

After checking in with Neloth about Drovas' performance as Steward, I decided to return to Raven Rock. I saw this ass with tusks and his beloved walking at me from a mile away.

I walked backwards until we're at the burned-out farm, nice and secluded from the prying eyes of the Redoran Guard. I drew my sword and, though I wanted to draw out Mogrul's demise, that metaphorical d20 decided that this guy needed a nice, painful, critical one-shot.

My enchanted glass sizzled as it penetrated his gut, then pierced his spine and he fell limp, dead at my feet.

Mjoll the Lioness apparently had a similar experience with Slitter, because he was a motionless corpse by the time I turned around to help.

I knew that, under all that malice and ugly, they were closeted lovers just trying to succeed the only way they knew how. So I propped Mogrul up so that he was seated, leaning against the fence in front of the farmhouse. I dragged Slitter through the ash and blood and laid his head peacefully in its favorite place, Mogrul's thighs. Their love would no longer be a secret.

My parting words to them were "Good night, sweet princes," with a satisfied, malevolent grin. I walked away laughing harder than I had in ages. I probably would've looked like a madman. You know, if there had been any witnesses.