“To wrestle pig, must get down in mud.”
“What I can say you,” he says, “is that we all dead men. Plus you, granny. Once you put Iuz minion down, your life is forfeit. I grew up in Reyhu on farm, but that was lifetime ago. Nothing back there now. Now I get even for mother and bull I rode. Here I am.”
Thag is small for a half-orc, maybe 5′ 7″ or so, with wiry muscles and not much bulk. His face is more “fleshy” than most of his breed and his skin more brown then grey. He seems very agile and can virtually disappear in the shadows, day or night. His breastplate is a dark grey and seems a little too big for him. It has a strange dull ring when struck. He uses an odd blade as well, long and slender with a two hand grip that he ignores. The pommel guard looks silvery, perhaps once ornate but now bashed into a rough handguard.
Thag is quick to speak his mind whenever asked. He seems very focused on any mission taken. Almost relentless, in fact. He took a turn as an instructor at the Yammery but has deemed himself ready to stay in the field going forward.