Ogg

Ogg is not only skilled at repairing broken armor, but also deeply absorbed in crafting plays about fate beside the blazing forge. His debut work, "The Warmth of a Broken Blade," spread quickly through taverns for its unflinching portrayal of war's cruelty. Some veterans scoffed at it, believing a rough blacksmith who spends his days hammering iron had no place speaking of human nature and suffering.

Even after gaining recognition, Ogg never set down his pen. His ongoing epic, "Child of the Furnace," seeks to unravel the fall and rebirth of an ancient civilization. With a detached and unyielding tone, he writes of souls tempered by fire and the paths that lead them to their final fate. This striking sense of realism gives his work a weight that seems to transcend time itself.

When asked why he chose this path, Ogg often recalls a wandering poet who once came to him in a storm, begging for a sword. The poet's instrument was broken, yet his gaze burned hotter than molten iron. He spoke of wandering through illusions, searching empty theaters for lost words, believing that recovering beautiful language could save a life on the brink of fading. Only in that moment did he realize he had been searching for the boy he once was—the one who never bowed to the world. What lay beneath his pillow was not a love letter, but a map to forbidden lands. His ideals had long been buried in dust, and the silent figure in the dark was the innocence he had abandoned.

"The cold night will pass. Even without starlight, we must kindle a fire in our hands. Believe that hope always takes root among the ruins." Ogg wrote these words in a letter to the children of an orphanage, marking his own turning point. Like the flame in his forge, that belief continues to illuminate the ordinary lives in his stories—lives that refuse to yield.