Weary of the years of battle against the forces of corruption and domination, Muqtadh dropped his sword and left the battlefield to search for some forgotten humanity which he hoped still existed within his bloodspatterd and battlehardened body.

He left the battlefield for the towns of men, fought vagrants in the shadows, and drank to the dregs of many a whiskey jar.

Muqtadh laid bare his loins to any tart that took his gold and spent many days fooling himself that he could escape the poison eating at his very soul.