For many ages the mogu guarded the great works of the titans. Always they listened to their master. Always they were obedient. With stony determination, they stood in ageless vigil.
Even as their master fell silent.
No mogu writings survive from the era when their stone turned to flesh. How terrifying it must have been for the mogu to breathe, to bleed, to die.
They turned to their master for guidance, but still, he was silent.
With flesh came the other curses of mortality: pride and greed, fear and anger. No longer united in purpose, the mogu fought amongst themselves.
Powerful mogu warlords gathered up followers and made war on one another. Their battles scorched the land, terrifying the other mortal races. And still, their master said nothing.