Mogra

In N2, Rolf Draxen's goblin slave.

Rolf looked at her. Flared nostrils, deep-set eyes, stubby horns at the temples, a bulbous torso and thin limbs. Dutiful, simple, compassionate. He was grateful, and allowed her to provide succor in silence.

background

When her mother had sold her to slavers as a youth, she had told a colorful story about her budding young daughter. Not only would the buyer be assured of good breeding stock, but also a rare gift. Her mother claimed that Mogra had a special talent for assessing the purity of water and other liquids. In the arid steppes and valleys known for an equal number of poisonous pools and pure mineral springs, this was a much sought-after skill. Through a series of buyers and sellers over the years, the story was passed along, increasing the profit of each transaction.

Likewise, the story was told to Rolf, her current master, when he and his men rendezvoused with a slave caravan to replenish their stock.

Of course, the story wasn't true, a mere device employed by her mother to extract a few more silver coins from the buyer. Nevertheless, when Mogra was rarely called upon to sniff and taste this or that potion, pool, or puddle, she'd apply her intuition and assessment and hadn't been poisoned so far. Without anxiety, she supposed that the first time she guessed wrong would be the last day of her life.