Morgoth

Morgoth was born in the Abiding Boneyard of the Scarred Wasteland, to a nomadic clan of battlescarred Plague dragons. They lived for the thrill of fight, constantly searching for their next adrenaline rush, raiding other clans and clashing with anyone who dared to cross their path.

From very early on, Morgoth was teached how to fight and show mercy to no-one, as this was the only way to survive in their clan. Kindness was seen as weakness, and showing any signs of weakness was sure to get you cast out, or even worse...

The clanmembers often fought each other as well, and they ended up being just as ruthless towards one of their own when defending their evershifting hierachy against one another. Their battles were fierce and bloody, but after the dust had settled and the winner had secured their position within the clan, these clashes tended to also weirdly strengthen their bonds and form even tighter camaraderie - if the losing side was left alive that is.

Due to his stormy upbringing and the clan's battlefilled way of living, Morgoth grew up to be quite stoic and callous, showing much less emotion to his clanmates who seemed to clearly enjoy the constant fighting and bloodshed. Despite Morgoth's restrained demeanor, he was one of the clan's best fighters and thus others dared not to challenge him. Even though his battle prowess was top notch, he didn't desire power within his clan, so he never challenged anyone for their position within the hierarchy.
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Years went by, and now all grown up Morgoth and his clan had found their way to the Hellwell Undercroft to heal their wounds after a huge battle against an old rival clan. While the clan separated to rest, battle and replenish their wares, Morgoth wandered off to find himself some peace and quiet away from his rowdy clanmates. He went by busy battle arenas, bustling bazaars and finally found a small and fairly quiet tavern to rest and enjoy some fine brew. He sat next to an old snapper, who was enjoying a huge pint of beer by the counter. The snapper was covered in scars and missing his left eye, but that was nothing unusual to the Scarred Wasteland. The snapper looked Morgoth up and down when he sat next to him, stopping to stare him eye to eye. Morgoth now saw that the snapper was really old, and for some odd reason, he felt quite intimidated by this ancient and battlescarred veteran measuring his character.

Even though he was intimidated, he did not shy away from his gaze, and after a small while, the snapper lift his hand and said to the bartender:

"One pint of your finest to this young lad here."

After that, he shifted back towards his drink and took a huge sip out of it. The tension from his intense stare eased and Morgoth did the same.

"I can see from your eyes - no pun intended - that you've had quite the journey so far."

The old snapper's voice was gruff, but there was a certain softness in how geniune his curiosity was. Morgoth stared down to his pint before he answered.

"Sure."

"You sound unsatisfied to the path you've followed."

"I feel nothing, yet... I've grown tired of it. It has nothing to offer to me."

The old snapper harumphed in disagreement and in slight amusement towards the young snapper's ignorance.

"Life - and this land - has so much to offer. If you're just willing to open up to it."

The old snapper chugged the rest of his beer and looked sternly into Morgoth's eyes.

"I'm old, and have seen the wonders that Sornieth has to offer beyond this hellhole. If your life here doesn't make you feel anything, go see what the world outside has to offer. If you can handle it here, you can handle it anywhere."

The old snapper gave a small nod as a thank you to the bartender and dropped some coins on the counter while he stood up to walk away.

"When our paths cross again youngster, make sure to tell me which path you chose."

Just as he was about to walk out, Morgoth shouted:

"I'll treat you next time."

The old snapper chuckled before disappearing into the night.

The words of the oldtimer echoed in Morgoth's mind, taunting him almost. And after finishing his drink, he stood up and left the Hellwell Undercroft, never looking back.
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Lore is still work in progress!!

Things to be added:

- Morgoth finds his way to Shadowblood clan
- From there he ends up to his final home: Dragonhome
- Meets "the oldtimer" once in Shadowblood clan and the last time in Dragonhome