Mogen

Mogen facts

 * Used cart saleswoman
 * Not into: weak ale, religion, men
 * Speaks Ignan well enough to be understood by an air elemental
 * Choose your weapon: kukri, gun, or the wheels of steel
 * Favorite breakfast is crab blintzes

Appearance
Mogen is 5'2" when standing to her full height, but is usually seen either hunched over a tower shield that has been modified into a wheeled crutch or seated in her awesome wheelchair that she designed herself. The chair has four wheels and looks kind of like a Mars rover, but has a chassis that can rotate to balance on two wheels when she wants to take the stairs or just look some sweaty-faced dipshit in the eye and say "you sure 'bout that, pal?" She has olivine-specked hazel eyes and a swarthy complexion (is that racist?? I mean "Italian-American") and she wears her silver-streaked black hair back in a greased pompadour. Her thick, dark sideburns come down just past her shoulders in two long Dwarven braids. Mogen typically eschews formal clothes for the practical comfort of oil-stained overalls and work boots, but she has been known to wear a tailored suit now and again.

Backstory
Mogen was born in Sharn to Dogen Dower and Hurik Glain, the middle of at least three children. Her childhood was comfortable and complete with the privileges of middle class: Mogen received a private education in Khorvaire's largest city, and with her brains and curiosity was poised for a successful as a public servant, banker, lawyer... Instead, Mogen blew off class constantly, preferring to spend her time in a dingy warehouse with a group of artists and artisans from all around the city calling themselves the Makers Coop, creating Rube Goldberg machines and disassembling magical items. She fought with her parents constantly. They were grooming her to be a woman of letters, but Mogen saw the city and knew that she lived in a world of things! Things that moved! Things that were made of parts! Things that often exploded! As her grades tanked, Mogen and her friends tinkered, learning through experimentation generalizable principles of energy exchange, matter manipulation and chemical reactions, and realizing that knowledge wasn't something you kept locked up in books and bestowed on the blessed few, but rather something you wrested from the rocky soil of iterative failure and successive approximation.

Mogen was kicked out of her elite private school for failing to show up to her final exams. Her parents were predictably furious. How could such a bright girl, with so much promise, having been given such a head start, with the sacrifices they had made, blah blah blah... Mogen tried to reason with them: couldn't they enroll her in a trade school? This made them even more furious. Trade school? A Glain, rubbing elbows with the scions of piss-alley blacksmiths and hobgoblin cobblers, and well I never, and no daughter of mine, and so Mogen decided to leave home. It was to be the first of many such departures. At first, Mogen shacked up at her fellow Makers' homes, but she did not want to overextend her welcome. She spent a couple nights in the warehouse, but found it drafty and potentially unsafe. So, she left Sharn.

Related Materials

 * Letter to Mogen - Letter from Yanger to Mogen, written during midsummer 998 YK.