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At the mention of his tattoo, Ogrim looked down at his inner forearm as it guarded his mug of brew. The skull and hammer were vibrant in color and stood out starkly against his dark hide. Looking over to Glanos from under a heavy brow, Ogrim replied.
”I was a Skull Hammer. I haven’t been one of their uruks for a long time, but I’d never betray them. I sensed war brewing and I came to lend my arm to their cause, and the cause of Orckon.”
Ogrim would visit the Skull Hammer stronghold in the morrow. He would offer his service to them again whether it be as a simple ushatar or a bolg. As former bolg of the rog shati he knew that his return would likely cause a stir in the ranks, the current bolg of the rog shati would likely be threatened.
”When I speak to them, I’ll see what I can do for ya, if they’ll have me.”
Normally Ogrim wouldn’t even bother helping another orc unless he gained something of equal or greater value. But when war was on the doorstep, it would’ve been foolish for him to turn away another strong arm.
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