Kren

Kren, from the short story Kren, available on this blog.

Morgs in Motion

Uncle Akko, the privileged bully Nast of the House of Keth, and the Watchman (Watchmorg?) are, again, all from King Korm. Bronn is from Mighty Mikku. Grelda, Kettil, and Thrand are all from the basically unfinished Thrand. I swear I didn't ask to make Grelda's voice so ... urban, but there it is. The AI also insists on skewing the Watchman's face closer to human than Morg.

More Morgs Galore

Uncle Akko from King Korm; Grelda the Great, Kettil, and Chief Justice Thrand from Thrand; and again from King Korm two versions of the Watchman, who is heavily implied to be Mog Gammoth himself.

More Morgish Characters

Nast is the antagonist from King Korm. Mog Gammoth is THE Morg, the Adam and Moses of the Morgish people, and a semi-divine figure. Bron is from Mighty Mikku, the wounded captain that Roth (Mikku) rescues and befriends.

Morg Animations

Morg Character Animations, including one of Korm that is much closer to his personality.

Characters from Mighty Mikku

Roth's madra (mother) Olind and his childhood bully, Gar, from the short story Mighty Mikku.

Characters from King Korm

Borl appeared in several stories, including being Koppa's arresting officer in Goldfire. The skeptical albino Prull and the giant, genial Berb. The distant and calculating Colonel Drim and his bitter tea.

Ortha's Favorite Power Couple

Roth & Hannu

Moq Mark Two

Needs a shorter cap and because he is not with others you can't tell how tall he is (maybe 5 feet), but not bad, not bad.

 

The Morg in the Iron Mask

I dedicated some time last night once more to the fruitless task of making an AI Morg. Fruitless, I say, because although I have drawn several Morgs, the AI refuses to recognize the characteristic muzzle, either drawn (that could just be my primitive draftsmanship) or by verbal prompt (too many downright apes and dogs – I don’t want to tell you what it did to the phrase ‘pug nose’). Finally, I decided that the solution might be to just cover up where the muzzle would be with an iron mask. The result was not satisfactory, but it was … sufficient, for now.

This morning I was idly pondering the problem when I remembered where there was a head of closely proper proportions. I hopped over to the Brothers Hildebrandt The Seige of Minas Tirith and promptly grave-robbed the head off a dead Orc. A little finagling, an AI version of General Roth that John had made, and voila! Something closer to the heart’s desire. Of course, it’s green and looks insane, but every time I try to give it a browner skin tone the AI resets the whole thing to an ordinary human head. But the shape of the head, kids!

Okay, This Is Very Close

For a while we've been trying to get AI programs to make a good picture of a Morg, and I think at last we are very, very close. This is the head a model that John produced using Grok and one of my old drawings, and it finally seemed to get the idea of the muzzle. Okay, the skin should be more tan and the hair raven-black, and the black tooth an interesting choice (maybe the program didn't realize it was supposed to be a tooth), but I almost cried for joy when I saw this. It's part of a larger iconic picture of Mog-Gammoth, the Lord and Patron of the whole Morg race. That explains the halo of fire around his head.

 

Am I A Morg Or A Monkey's Uncle?

 

Used Starryai to try to make a computer-generated image of a Morg. This was the best it gave me. Not too bad. It seems to have interpreted me describing a 'figure' as an action figure. But without a longer beard and a more protruding muzzle, it's just a chimp in armor.

This is the description I plugged in: "The figure is bi-pedal, about five feet tall. Skin color is a light brown. Hair is rather coarse and black. Eyes are black, with coronas larger than human in proportion to the whites. Head is rather round and skull thick, deep-browed, with a protruding muzzle that comes to a rounded point. This muzzle extends approximately as far forward as the length of the skull. The nostrils are pugged, resembling an ape’s, and are close to the eyes. The upper lip comes to a flexible point and somewhat overhangs the lower lip; The muzzle is lined with pointed canine teeth. The hair on the head short, the beard long and to the waist. The neck is short and thick, powerfully built, stocky in the shoulders, and broad in the beam, with legs and arms burly in proportion. Dressed in medieval armor with red cape and conical helmet."

Just for interest, the other three proffered images:

"Kren" Part 22: Just a Day's March Now, I Reckon

 

Kren gaped at him, staring eyes still wide with his vision, beard trembling on his chest over his racing heart.

“I,” he began, then gulped, throat dry. “I saw my mother dying.”

Koppa looked stricken and started to rise.

“Oh, I am sorry,” he began, voice concerned. “That spell was supposed to show the memory that you most wanted to see …”

“No, sit down, sit down,” Kren said, gesturing dismissively for silence, still distracted by his vison.  Koppa studied him worriedly while the Morg sat processing his thoughts, only his eyes moving as if watching it all over again. Eventually he raised a paw and began slowly stroking his beard.  He looked up at the youth, eyes gleaming under his deep brows.

“I think it was what I most wanted to see,” he said gruffly. “Or at least what my heart knew that I did. I had no memory of my mother’s face. Harrowing as it was, as horrible as it felt, I must thank you for that.”

“I’m so sorry,” Koppa repeated, still worried. “Look, I’m sure I could summon a more pleasant memory of her for you …”

Kren bowed his head and sighed deeply.

“No need, no need,” he said quietly. “She told me what I most needed to hear. That she loved me.”

He looked up, eyes firm with resolve.

“And that I must go to Morg City. When do you return there?”

Koppa was taken aback.

“Not for a long while, I’m afraid.” He hesitated. “I have far, and farther to journey, following the King’s business. But come spring I should pass through here again, and we might travel together then.”

Kren shook his head.

“Not soon enough. I’m late it is.” His set his jaw. “I’ll go alone if I must.”

Koppa stared at him, appalled.

“You mean you’d set out alone, on the spur of the moment, on the verge of winter, no less, and travel all the miles from here to Morg City, where you know no-one – because of a memory I showed you?”

Kren snorted.

“Why not? There’s nothing for me here except more long years to the grave, working for people who care nothing for me.” He smiled a twisted grin. “Besides, my mother told me to. She says I have people there.” The thought suddenly struck him.

“A family.” His voice was slow with wonder. “A real family, waiting for me.”

“Well, maybe,” Koppa began cautiously. “You must remember it’s been a few years, I guess, and we have had a war…” He snapped his mouth shut at Kren’s sudden glare. “But they might very well be there,” he went on. “What was your mother’s name? There are probably still Life Witness records that remember when she fled the City. That could put you in touch with your family.” He paused, curious. “What was her name?”

“Madra,” Kren said proudly.

“Oh, dear.” Koppa shook his head sadly.

“What’s the matter?  Have you heard of her?”

“No, Mr. Kren. It’s just that ‘Madra’ is simply the Morgish word for ‘mother’. You must have been very young when she died not to know that. You can’t go marching into Morg City basically asking for Mommy and get any useful answer.”

Kren was taken aback for a moment, then quickly rallied.

“I heard other names,” he snapped. “Pon. Ferrit. They travelled with her. Surely, I can triangulate her name by knowing them.”

Koppa grew thoughtful.

“Yes. Yes, I suppose you could.” He stroked his chin. “And if you left now and went fast enough, you just might catch a trade caravan heading for Morg City. Or at least hunker down in a nearer town until spring.” He looked at Kren. “Do you have any money?”

“I got some,” Kren replied cagily.

Koppa laughed.

“Well, you’ll need it, at least while travelling. Once you’re at Morg City, a good carpenter can always find a job. Even after five years, we’re still rebuilding. And if you can’t locate your old family, well, you can always start a new one.” He looked around humorously. “I don’t think you’ll find a wife here in Far Reach.” 

"Kren" Part 20: A Change of Perspective

 

“Come, child, we must see your mother.”

My mother? Kren wondered helplessly as he was propelled forward by the steady claw of the elder. Then they were through the door, and he suddenly realized where he was.

It was the back room of the Guesthouse, dimly lit and furnished with one shaggy pallet of hay. He knew it intimately, having repaired it several times over the years; to his workman’s eye there was no mistaking it. But it was nowhere near as cavernous as it appeared. Suddenly his perspective swirled, and he saw how things really were. The room seemed to shrink and the giant Morgs became of normal size. It was he who was smaller.

That realization happened in a split second. Then his entire attention focused on the figure lying on the straw.

For years Kren would have sworn that he had no memory of his mother. But his heart gave a shattering cry of recognition as he looked at the tossing, groaning Morgess writhing under the patched blanket that barely covered her body. He ran eagerly to her side, but stopped just short in fear.