Aggra (Agg-ra)

Early Existence

  Aggra, the firstborn of Ulmatar and Torgurat, came into being not long after the orcish people themselves. Her rapid aging was a divine necessity, for her purpose was immediately evident—she was to be the goddess of death, charged with guiding orcish souls to their final rest beside their patron deities. Even from her earliest moments, Aggra walked between the realms of the living and the dead. Her haunting black eyes, dotted with starlight, seemed always to peer beyond the veil, and this eerie aura made her a figure of trepidation among the early orc tribes. She was whispered of in shadowed groves, revered by few and misunderstood by many. Despite the discomfort she inspired, her sacred duties could not be denied. Orcs blessed by Aggra were said to narrowly escape doom or live long lives filled with strange fortune. Her followers, once ostracized, slowly grew in number and renown. As more orcs came to understand her role—not as a harbinger of doom, but a guardian of endings—the reverence around her began to take deeper root. She wasn’t cruel or callous, merely necessary, and with this came a slow but steady acceptance of her place in the divine order.   By the time the orcish tribes began to unify, Aggra had established herself as a vital, though still enigmatic, part of the pantheon. Her temples were simple but well-kept, her rites somber but honored. Death was no longer feared in ignorance, but met with prayer and ceremony. To die without her blessing was considered a dire fate—to be lost in the dark without the Maiden's guiding light. Thus, she became not only a god of endings, but of hope in the face of the unknown.  

Krusk the First And Udrok

During the early days of the Empire of Oggurd Mul, Aggra busied herself with collecting the souls of the slain, especially from the countless tribal wars that defined the empire’s rise. It was during these travels across battlefields and burning villages that she encountered Krusk the First, the mighty chieftain of the Oggurd Tribe. Something about Krusk touched the divine goddess—whether it was his defiance of death, his wisdom, or some unspoken bond, even Aggra could not say. But she loved him. Quietly, fiercely, and fully. Against the code of the gods, she descended from her distant role and allowed herself to become part of his mortal world. This love, though deeply hidden, was returned. Krusk, too, fell for the ethereal goddess who visited him in moments of deathly quiet, in times of reflection and stillness. From their union, a child was born—Udrok, who would later rise to divine status as the god of mischief and schemes. The identity of his father was kept hidden even from him. Aggra raised Udrok in secret, knowing that to reveal her union with a mortal—let alone bear his child—could threaten the fragile balance of the pantheon. Yet her love and grief intertwined, and the love that brought her Udrok also brought with it distance, secrecy, and pain.   Aggra tried to raise Udrok with care, but her nature was cold and otherworldly, and she struggled to express the love she held. Udrok grew cunning and distant, shaped not by gentle guidance, but by observation, secrets, and withheld truths. While Aggra never admitted her struggles aloud, her pain was evident to the spirits who lingered near her temples. She watched her son grow into something both brilliant and dangerous, and her silence helped forge the very path that would one day destroy what she held most dear.  

During the empire

At the height of the orcish empire, Aggra’s power was immense. The widespread wars and ceaseless expansion meant death followed every campaign, and every death was a whisper in her ear. Her temples became grand tomb-halls lined with obsidian and carved stone, places of reverence and silent prayer. Even those who feared her could not deny her importance, for no general marched without leaving an offering, and no chieftain passed without invoking her name. It was said she walked beside those destined to live against all odds—“blessed by death” became a common phrase for survivors. Her influence during the empire was paradoxical: her cult flourished, and yet she herself felt deeply uneasy. The empire took slaves and grew decadent, far from the noble ideals once upheld by Krusk. Aggra remained mostly silent, watched closely by her fellow deities for her prior disobedience. Her previous act of divine-mortal union had not been forgotten, and now every action was weighed, every word parsed. As a result, Aggra could not speak out or act against the injustices she witnessed. Her hands were tied, even as her soul wept.   She did what she could: warning select seers, guiding peaceful deaths, and ensuring that at least some of the innocent were shielded. But the wider tide of war and cruelty was beyond her power to halt. The sadness in her temples deepened, and even her followers began to reflect the goddess’s cold, withdrawn demeanor. Aggra had become a symbol of sorrowful inevitability—death in the age of decadence, silent and weeping.  

The Fall of the Empire and After

When Shomat, her brother and the god of prophecy, was slain in the catastrophe of the shattered ritual, Aggra fell into a grief so profound it shook the divine realms. Her star-speckled eyes, once quiet and watchful, flared with nova-like fury. She mourned not only her brother, but the death of his ideals, of prophecy, and of the path he had tried to show their people. Her keening cry echoed across the spiritual planes, and every soul in her care felt the pain of her loss. When the truth was revealed—that Udrok, her own son, had orchestrated the ritual that brought about Shomat's death—Aggra was shattered anew. Rage and sorrow warred within her; she had birthed the instrument of her brother’s doom. Her jet-black eyes became white-hot suns as her grief burned into fury. Yet, she did not destroy Udrok. Whether from divine law, maternal instinct, or deeper sorrow, she instead exiled herself emotionally from him—a punishment colder than death. She withdrew from all divine interaction, becoming a shadow in the pantheon.   After the empire crumbled, and the temples fell, Aggra remained a silent figure walking the ruins. Her power waned with the loss of faith, but she remained dutiful. Her connection to Krusk’s spirit offered her rare moments of warmth, brief glimpses of her former self, but those were fleeting. To the living, she is once again a terrifying presence—the Maiden of Death, silent, cold, and judging. But to those who truly understand, she is something more: a mother burdened with grief, a sister lost in mourning, and a goddess whose heart broke beneath the weight of fate.