The Ogres of Glutt’thar

Along the mist-swathed southern edges of the Mistveil Marshes, where the land folds into itself and the trees grow as wide as houses, dwell the Ogres of Glutt’thar—a people both mighty and unexpectedly gentle. Unlike their brutish cousins found in the blasted highlands or the blood-soaked siege camps of the north, the Glutt’thar ogres have embraced a slower, humbler way of life, shaped by the endless patience demanded by the swamp they call home.

Their immense forms, covered in thick, mud-caked skin and adorned with wreaths of braided reeds, move with surprising delicacy through the marsh. Each step is careful, every motion weighed, for the Mistveil does not suffer fools who stir its anger. The Glutt’thar ogres are not warriors, but Mudshapers—master artisans of clay, water, and slow wisdom. Their great hands, capable of crushing a boulder, are instead used to coax the swamp’s heavy clay into homes, bridges, statues, and shrines that seem to hum with the memory of the earth itself.

Way of the Marsh

For the Glutt’thar, shaping the mud is more than survival—it is sacred. They believe the Marsh is alive, ancient beyond reckoning, and that every handful of clay they mold is a conversation with it. Their villages, grown rather than built, rise like soft, breathing islands amid the mist, blending so perfectly into the bog that a traveler might walk through one without realizing it until the ground itself shifts underfoot.

The ogres revere the slow rhythm of the swamp: patience, endurance, and the quiet strength of things that refuse to die. Their elders, known as Elderhearth, teach that the marsh remembers every footprint, every ripple, every careless word shouted into its mist. To shout, to rush, to force—is to disrespect the Marsh, and the Marsh never forgets.

Though their great strength could easily make them conquerors, the Glutt'thar shun violence. Outsiders who approach with weapons drawn are met not with battle, but with silence—the deep, heavy silence of the mist closing around them until even the bravest find their courage drowned.

The Emberglass Pact

The Glutt'thar know well the dangers of the hidden Emberglass Orbs buried beneath the marshy deeps. It is said among their kind that the Orbs are the Marsh’s broken memories, pieces of things too painful to fully rot away. While scholars from Scholar’s Rift would kill for a single Orb, the Glutt’thar see them as sacred sorrows—and only their most trusted people are permitted to move them, always with care and ritual, never for personal gain.

Each Glutt'thar ogre undergoes the Soft Pact upon coming of age: a silent vigil in the mists, carrying a lump of raw marsh clay. If they return with the clay still alive and supple in their hands, the Marsh has accepted them. If not, they are not cast out, but are taught again—the Marsh will accept them when they are ready, not before.