Thraghun

Raised in the Grimward of Grazg Batul, Thraghun has always been the one to laugh the loudest, hit the hardest, and strike the fastest. He and his sister have fought side by side since they could swing a fist, and he’s never doubted they’ll die side by side, too.

Just not today.

Now, with only a handful of warriors standing against the Conclave Arcana, Thraghun sees the odds for what they are. There’s no winning a fair fight. Good thing he’s never cared for fair fights.

While Thragha wades into the fray, he picks apart the enemy from behind—a crossbow bolt through the ribs, a poisoned blade to the throat. He’s not subtle. He’s vicious and relentless.

The odds mean nothing. Reinforcements may come. They may not. But as long as he can still loose a bolt, still bury his knife deep, still bellow a battle cry that shakes the hills, this fight isn’t over.