Years later, Borkhog would look back at this day as formative. He would occasionally think of and, rarely speak of, the joys of the combat that day. He would remember his first blooding — the bugbear, the goblins, and the Worg which, deep inside, he wished he could have tamed as a pet. This was the inner tale that let him sleep, albeit uncomfortably, at night.
Deep inside his shallow intellect, even Borkhog knew there was a darker truth — a truth with a much more complicated patina. He was not sure that the moment he had attempted to read the scrolls was the moment he was noticed, but it certainly was the moment that the dark, chaotic forces began to condense upon his vulnerable lloig.