Thursday, September 27, 2018

A City of Clerics

Otherwise known as the City of Morons.

Only being half-serious here. Title's a reference to Wizard City. Also to my last post On Clerics.


The City of Clerics is a sister to Wizard City. It's the same city in a parallel dimension: same layout, people, same stupid shit. The only difference is that they're Clerics, not Wizards.

This changes everything.

There are no layfolk in Cleric City, only clerics. Nobody except each other to act as an intermediary to. Ten thousand clerics, each an expert in their own idiosyncratic knowledge, each unique, each completely useless on their own.

They all depend on each other like individual computer programs coordinating in the mind of an artificial intelligence (and maybe they are). Nobody's self-sufficient, nobody knows how anything works. Forced cooperation or death by ignorance.

For instance, there is a Cleric of the Stove. Only he knows how stoves work. Nobody else in the entire city does. The stove is too complicated. He prays to the Stove God, performs the stove rituals to work the stove, and lo, the Stove God bequeaths its blessings of heat and cooked bacon.

There is a Cleric of Taxes. Taxes, being the most byzantine and incomprehensible of systems, can be done only by the Tax Cleric. Animals must be sacrificed, rituals must be made, the Tax Gods must be worshiped.

A Cleric of Where The Garbage Goes.
A Cleric of Selling Beets
A Cleric of Having Awkward Conversations With Your Roommate About The Rent. 
A Cleric of Laundry
A Cleric of Murder
A Cleric of Religion

Sometimes a Cleric has more than one specialty.

This can be convenient, say, with the Cleric of Juggling Flaming Chainsaws and Bandaging Yourself While Applying Cold-packs.

It can be awkward, such as with the Cleric of Depressing Funerals and Lively Tuba Music.

It can be bizarre, like the Cleric of Spoons and Picking The Lint Out of Your Belly Button.

Lo! A Priest Over Yonder! 
They Must Be The Cleric Of...

1. Cheese
2. Making the Coffee
3. Baking*
4. The Lift
5. The Plumbing and The Cafeteria
6. Making Beds
7. Disappearing the Dust
8. The Printing Press
9. The Mail
10. Vacating the Garbage
11. Coupons
12. Knots
13. Long Division
14. Chemistry
15. Map Reading
16. Glassblowing
17. Getting Dressed In The Morning
18. Talking to Jerks
19. Touching Your Elbow To Your Chin
20. French
21. Taxes
22. Horseshoes
23. Eeeeeeeeeevil!
24. Judging Dance
25. Windmills
26. Graceful Small Talk
27. Proper Fitness
28. Very Tall Hats
29. Symmetry
30. Scheduling
31. Pet Recommendations
32. Procuring Meat
33. The Secret of Combustion
34. Curse Words
35. Boiling Water
36. Proper Grooming
37. Finding Your Keys
38. The Funky Beat
39. Politics
40. Swords
41. Popularity
42. Euchre
43. Kung Fu
44. Classy Cocktail Parties
45. Whale Whispering
46. Haircuts
47. Zoning Permits
48. The Time and Date
49. Littering
50. Naps
51. Firearms
52. Sharpening Stuff (Mostly Knives)
53. Fine Print
54. Walking and Muttering
55. Shady Deals
56. Copying
57. Souffle
58. Cabbages
59. Money Changing
60. Interpretive Sneezing
61. Jazz Hands
62. Parrot Breeding
63. Quilts
64. The Bloody Mary (the drink)
65. Musicals
66. Management
67. Groceries
68. All the Mushrooms
69. 69
70. Rock Soup
71. Calligraphy
72. Necromancy
73. Toast
74. Taxidermy
75. Children's Parables
76. Talking to Relatives At Family Gatherings
77. Tolls
78. The Criminal Court
79. Fermentation
80. Meteorites
81. Plastics
82. Pickpocketing
83. Balance
84. The Plague
85. Sword Fighting
86. Suing
87. Birds
88. Bees
89. Birds and Bees
90. Lanterns
91. Young Boys
92. Butanol
93. Clocks
94. Student Loans
95. Chromatography
96. Talking About Sports
97. Condoms
98. Whales
99. Flour
100. Itinerary Programs

*I know the first three are food related... I'm hungry while writing this.

Sunday, September 23, 2018

The Forest of Fences

There's a forest between a marsh and a mountain that has no trees, only fences. The fences grow like trees do, but they aren't always made of wood.

Wooden pickets, chain linked, bamboo stalks, barbed and rusted, wrought iron, hedge rows, electrified - to name some. The further in you go the more hostile they get. You'll start with the orderly fences of good neighbors. You'll end with electrified barbed wire thickets.

They tend to curve you back towards the way you came. Walking deeper constantly corrals you -  a russian doll of parabolas to discourage and entrap. Kill zones everywhere.

The Forest was meant to keep soldiers out. It is an artificial barrier - a minefield - meant for deterrence more than entrapment. When the end of the War came there was nobody to dismantle it. In the following millennia it began to attract things which didn't want to be found.

A little fey-girl tends the forest. Looks around 5 years old, hopelessly tangled hair and innumerable cuts on her arms and legs. She saw this forest conceived and born from the madness of War, and is small enough to squeeze into the cracks. She might help you, if you can prove you're not a monster. This isn't easy. You look just like one.

A juggernaut-beast of fire and metal sleeps in the thickest brush, silent as the dead. With a horrible cataclysmic screeching it comes to live, trampling the most dangerous of fences with a rolling thunder. It is utterly misanthropic, attacking indiscriminately with steel and fire. There is soft flesh to rend, though one must pierce the thick metal shell. It laughs a distant laugh, like a mad man trapped below the ground.

Some fences live. They move and shift, to confuse and entrap. They spring upon intruders with sudden ferocity like mouse traps, to break the spine and crush the viscera. They'll isolate a person, trap them in an cyst, and misdirect or shred. Unlike fences will never work together, though, even in their dislike for people. They get stranger the deeper you go.

There are relics in the Forest, products of ancient mechanized superscience. One may find them buried in tucked-away spaces less comforting than coffins: guns, flamethrowers, chemical weapons, periscopes, gas masks, mortars, metal detectors, steel helmets, entrenching tools, grenades, waterproof tarps.

These things fetch a modest fortune. Woodsmen sometimes go to the edges of the fence forest to harvest scrap wood and metal and find them under loose rocks, buried half-deep in bone meal.

How do you deal with mile after mile of fences?

Well, I suppose you could break them down. You could climb them, or find a crack or imperfection where the fence goes over a large rock. You could burn the ones made of wood. You could make a series of bridges across the fence tops with long planks, though these will be impermanent in the shifting maze. Sometimes you can find a way around - though not often. Some fences are worse than others at shooing out invaders. Sometimes there's a door.

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

Clerical Domains

Clerics seem extraneous in most games I've played. It seems more often than not people play them to fill out the role in the party for tanky support guy, or a stockier wizard.

And this doesn't really feel satisfying to me. I feel it needs something more distinct.

I think what can best define Clerics is that they are a go-between, a middle man. They are a medium between People and that which is inaccessible to them. This can encompass everything from history to the divine to the un-explainable to science.

The Cleric, more so than other classes, is defined by how they interact with other people. This is also what differentiates them from other magical ilk - say, an ascetic, or a wizard, who don't need (or want) to mediate their knowledge for the advancement of others.

After all, what's the difference between a Cleric who doesn't share their talents, and a Wizard? Spell selection? Armor and weapons? How they acquire their magic? The first two are subjective on the game system, and usually there's enough overlap to muddy the waters. The third one happens "off screen" and has virtually no impact on play.

My point is that there should be a more concrete distinction.

To that end...

Divine Domains are how the gods of the campaign interface with the world. Clerical Domains are how the Cleric interfaces society with the unknowable, the complex, or the divine.

Clerical Domains should be more important for play than Divine Domains, because Clerical Domains describe how the Cleric interacts with NPCs and the other Players.

Divine Domains are great and all, but they don't really tell you what your cleric does, only what their god lords over. So here's a table for what your cleric does.

I wanted to make this a d12 or d20 table, but failed. Some of these domains can be endlessly split or combined, but I said 'fuck it' and stopped worrying halfway through making it.

What Is Your Cleric All About?
(Clerical Domains)

Clerical Domain
The Cleric Mediates Between People And...
Cleric Examples
1. Judgement
Proper Morality
Judgin' stuff
Asshole Paladin
2. Divination
The Not-Present, Not-Here.
Augury, scrying, foresight
3. Diplomacy
Other People
Mediating, negotiating
Neutral Arbiter
Heretical Turncoat
4. Conversion
The Virtues of Orthodoxy
Coercion, persuasion
Fallen Paladin
Alignment Jockey
5. Purification
Their Disgust
Being clean and making others so
Heretic Purger
Mr. Clean
6. Oathkeeping
Their Logical Lack of Trust
Upholding and remembering oaths and oathbreakers
Friendship-Is-Legally-Binding Cleric
7. Scholarship
Other People Across Space and Time
Record keeping, cataloging, library diving
Library Navigator

8. Ritual
Knowing and utilizing rituals
Secret Society Leader
9. Communication
The Unfamiliar
Talking to ghosts, animals, rocks.
Speaks With Literally Everything Cleric
10. Politics
Rhetoric, propaganda
Religious leader
11. Pilgrimage
Spatially-Bonded Holiness
Knowing the way and the journey
12. Funerals
Interment of corpses, cremations, funerals
13. Initiation
The Community
Initiation rituals, education
Hazer Cleric
14. Bureaucracy
The Endless Machinations of Man
Record keeping, loophole engineering
Spirit Lawyer
Divine Tax Man


To facilitate this role of the Cleric as a medium between the unknowable and the layfolk (all non-Clerics, essentially), I think the best procedure is to subtly encourage in-character dialogue between the Cleric and everyone else. Some ideas to do this without being heavy-handed:

Secret DM Communication
This is why I think secret communication between the DM and the Cleric player is critical. When everyone at the table has access to what the Cleric knows (usually by the DM telling the results of the Cleric's doings in front of the whole table) it shortcuts the interaction between the Cleric and the other players. This translation of information is valuable to the Cleric's role as medium.

This can be applied to all classes, of course, but I feel it's more important for clerics than others.

More than the other domains, I feel like this is where the Cleric shines best, especially in OSR games with a high PC drop rate. Taking care of the recently dead is a responsibility best done with a focused light at the table. It can have a functional impact on play, too. Like:

  • Character who had a proper funeral don't rise as undead the next full moon.
  • Those who witnessed a death are physically stained until they reconcile with it by purification.
  • Funerals are great for networking with NPCs.

Monday, September 10, 2018

The War of Naps

A war campaign idea, or perhaps a 0 Level Funnel.


The Lightning War was appropriately named - the whole affair lasted only a month, resulted in the highest number of casualties-by-electrical-burn for any war to date, and utterly crushed the larger nation of Mieir for a generation.

It was a preemptive surprise attack the likes of which the world had never seen. The wizard armies of Yumen had every advantage bestowed to Magic Users: scrying, teleportation, lethal evocation magic, secure communications, conjured supplies, flight.

The armies of Mieir had nothing: their wizards were too few and too obvious. They all fell within the first hours of the War. Their logistics and communications were inferior, their clerical portents were too vague. They were doomed from the start.


Despite the terrible loss the people of Meier are resilient. They have been planning and plotting. Guerrilla warfare has been the game for thirty years. The initial assault from Yumen was ineffective, and now the time has come for a hasty organized counterattack. The New Army of Mieir is on the move.

As the armies of Mieir and Yumen then danced around the countryside, each vying for a better strategic position, the generals of the New Army came up with a bold strategy. A critical observation was made: the armies of Meier could get inadequate sleep during combat operations and still be (nominally) functional. The armies of Yumen could not.

Their wizards needed 8 hours of uninterrupted, continuous rest in order to recuperate their spells. Without this, they would need to subsist on the spells they'd prepared during their last full rest. If their sleep remained partial no new spells could be mustered.

So the strategy of sleep attrition began. It would be a war of tempo, of quick naps and great sacrifice. Enter the players.


This campaign is about denying a continuous 8 hours of rest to the wizard army. 

The parameters are thus:
  1. The Wizard Army is outnumbered about 3 to 1.
  2. Their troops are vastly superior. Fireball-level magic is plentiful enough.
  3. The Wizard Army is trying to get rest.
  4. The Players need to prevent this at all costs.
  5. What disturbs rest is considered generously.
  6. OSR Problem Design applies: no easy outs for either side (anti-magic items, use of beholders, mass teleportation to safety, impenetrable magic barriers, etc.)
Each party of sleep-saboteurs can have multiple attempts at disrupting the enemy camp. If done as a 0-Level Funnel, then each party probably only has one. XP could be awarded based on how many Magic-Users disrupted of sleep, and how many spells were used against you.

Example Ways to Disrupt the Wizard Camp
  1. Loud explosion by camp
  2. Setting the camp on fire
  3. Setting the brush on fire and wafting smoke at them
  4. Feign a mass attack
  5. Feign a mass attack, then a mass retreat, then another mass attack
  6. Infiltrate the camp, shake people awake
  7. Firing concealed artillery their way
  8. Spreading plague (Cure Disease costs spells)
  9. Tainting the water/food supply (Create Food/Water costs spells, as does Neutralize Poison)
  10. Herd a stampede into camp
  11. Cause an earthquake
  12. Steal all the pillows
  13. Wave after wave of my own men
  14. Give them way too much caffeine
  15. Give them stimulant drugs (wizards love drugs)
  16. Mass trumpet sounds from afar
  17. Stink bomb
  18. Seduce the wizards
  19. Create a haunting
  20. Shoot arrows while hidden from cover into random tents

For Yumen, it's probably best to try and be reactive with their defenses, so the same thing doesn't work twice. If they set the camp on fire then the wizards fireproof their stuff. If you give them drugs then they get wise to the act.

Thursday, September 6, 2018

The Clerics of Clause

About a year ago I ran an impromptu one-shot using the introductory adventure for Anomalous Subsurface Environment. One of the players wanted to be a cleric. In ASE clerics worship these ominous satellite AI overlord deities, and the setting explicitly says that you can pick any god from any pantheon that ever existed to be your deity.

My friend was cloistered Catholic, so while browsing the list of various pagan deities, and seeing the obvious discomfort on his face, I told him that he can pick anything ever. Narnia, Tolkien, anything.

He decided he wanted to be a cleric of Santa Claus.

And this was the best cleric religion.

He decided that this meant he would go around gifting presents to the needy, making offerings to Santa Claus of cookies and other sweet things, and smashing dudes on the naughty list in the face.

Freakin'. Awesome. I was 110% on board. Best cleric ever.


So now, a year from that date, having completely bailed on my blog post about how clerics feel extraneous and unnecessary in most campaigns, I will write about the Church of the Clause, inspired by the Best Cleric Ever.

Clerics of Clause

Domains: Gift Giving, Good Cheer, Cultural Appropriation

Tell me this dude ain't the most cleric-y cleric you've ever seen.

Everybody generally tolerates the Clerics of Clause (there are those of open hostility). The Clerics are rather annoying, quite possibly utterly blasphemous, but at least they always show up with presents and booze.

The entire function of the Clerics is to show up on other clerics holidays and then misappropriate it to make it about Good Cheer. The good Clerics of Clause are generally courteous and give gifts when they show up uninvited. The bad ones are raucous and drunk. Neither group actually cares what the real holiday is about - they're just here to spread the Cheer!

Clerics of Clause are expected to give gifts wherever they go. It's why most people are generally helpful towards them. Children tend to either be ecstatic or completely terrified.

The other function of the Clerics is to appropriate elements from each Holiday they show up at, to incorporate it into their own Fraken-Holiday.

The Holiday

Once a year comes the Holiday of the Clerics of Clause. It is a wonderful/horrific amalgam of other holidays. Bring an evergreen inside, roast some chestnuts over a fire, perform a bloody sacrifice to Tiamat, whisper the name of Claus into the ashes of a forsaken treaty... then presents! Yay!

Also unleashing cans o' whoop ass.
By yy6242

As a GLOG Class

Because there's a first time for everything, I'm gonna make a GLOG Class for this!

Starting Equipment: A white-furred red coat. Red pants. A big belt. A sack. 2 Liters of Booze. A mace. The List. Pen.
Starting Skills: Religion

A - Instant Wrapping, The List
B - Good Cheer
C - Sneak
D- Religious Misappropriation

Instant Wrapping
In 1d4 Rounds you may wrap up any object in your possession. It takes 1d4 Rounds to unwrap.

The List
Every Cleric of Clause has their own personal Naughty/Nice List. It takes a minute to write someone's name down on it, and can only be done after witnessing a naughty or nice act. When you do so, that person gets a -1 penalty (Naughty) or +1 bonus (Nice) to all Saves as long as it's there. Some justification must be given, or Clause himself (the DM) will strike the name from The List.

Good Cheer
You may spend one Round to bolster your allies with good cheer! You and your allies gain advantage against Fear, Poison, and Paralysis for 2d4 Rounds.

+2 to Stealth. Double the bonus if you're climbing. Double it again if you're using the ability altruistically.

Religious Misappropriation
Whenever you witness an act of magic for some religious purpose, you may copy and repeat that ability once, at your convenience, provided it is done with general good cheer!

Sunday, September 2, 2018

Leviathan: Silence from the South

Since I'm rather slow at getting material out there, particularly onto my blog, I've decided to start writing up the adventure for Leviathan: the dungeon of Strange Language, State, and Natural State of Man.

Starting with the Introduction.


At the junction of the rivers Foxrun and Whiterock lies the sleepy town of Lome. It's seldom mentioned, except by travelers, for its soft-worded poets and honeyed carrots. Its most celebrated feature is having produced several famous Statesmen, who spent their childhoods there.

A messenger came from Lome on the edge of death. Without horse, having run the whole distance to the capital without stop. Before dying of exhaustion he told three listeners that by some sorcery every single person in Lome is dead, down to the very last. Their corpses were piled up in the town square - an eclipsing monument of terror 5000 souls high. Atop it sat a dead man, sword and crosier crossed upon his chest.

Scotmund Childless was one of those listeners. A political strategist, a fixer, and a captain, Scotmund grew up in Lome. He knows something important when he hears it. He's putting all of his plans on hold.

He'll need some help.


There are three groups who got the messenger's word and are headed to Lome:

Scotmund Childless and his Soulsells,
Dyr Nightengale di Vandri and her Destined,
Abla "Red" and the Redbeard Company.

Each of them is a potential avenue to hook the party into Lome.

If they're in good with the State, then Scotmund is the contact.
If they hang out with weirdos and cultists, Byu will bring them in.
Otherwise, the Redbeard Company is hiring freelancers.

Scotmund Childless, Dog of the State

Oiled black hair. Smells of clover. Never smiles. His gambeson bears the Queen's colors - red and blue diamonds. Carries a very long rapier and a sword breaker.

They call him "The Third Fox", but never to his face. His loyalty to the Queen and the State is infamous - he hung he own brother for treason. Captain of the secret police.

He wants expendable assets to to use in Lome, but he'll never say that. He's keeping the details close to the chest, and has his own (correct) suspicions about the massacre.

Bring the player-characters to a secret meeting. He'll want to plan everything meticulously.

Scotmund's Plan:
1. Get to Lome discreetly.
2. Set up a base of operations somewhere secure and advantageous.
3. Find the cause of the massacre.
4. Assess potential threats, act accordingly.
5. Wait for reinforcements to establish order.

And overall, act opportunistically.

He comes with 5 skilled Soulsells: men who, by debt or misfortune, sold their souls to the Queen. They are incorruptible and utterly loyal to Scotmund. They wear smooth, featureless pale masks that, when studied closely, reflect the events that landed them in debt.

Scotmund is a Level 6 Specialist/Thief.
Sword Breaker - Missed melee attacks against him trigger save vs. Paralyzation or disarmament.
Pass Without Trace 2/day.

AC As Plate  HD 4   HP 24
1d12 Greatsword/Crossbow
Evasion - Takes half damage from area attacks.
Mask of White Debt - Those who look upon their masks have a 1 in 6 chance of failing their next rest. Those with outstanding debts who look upon the masks Save vs. Magic or are paralyzed until the mask breaks line-of-sight.


Dyr Nightengale di Vandri, Wealthy Occultist

A short elf, tangled hair hidden under a grey hood. Whites of both eyes hemorrhaged over with blood. She says "It's fine... A manageable condition." She'll never say what that condition is. Her voice is worn silk brushing over the face.

When you meet her she will be playing a cello - something lugubrious and biting. She prefers to play and talk business.

She likes to watch people sleep and dream. She'll ask first, of course. She's not a monster.

Hung up on anciently outdated protocols. She'll frequently ask permission for things in which one typically does not need it. "It would enthrall me if I could breath in your presence."; "May I glance errantly at your shoes?"; "Pardon me if I recall a memory at this moment."

Her auguries were clear: a magic has been witnessed in Lome that hasn't ruled in a hundred generations. This magic must be hers, and hers alone. But Woe to her if she tries to obtain it by herself. She needs patsies.

Dyr's Plan
1. Get to Lome discreetly
2. Settle in to the most magically significant building available (a library, a church, a grand mausoleum)
3. Perform various auguries while the patsies investigate the town
4. Get the magic, don't share it
5. Wipe evidence of being here (burn down the town)
6. Get out

Over all, get the magic at all costs.

She comes with a host a six agile Destined from House Vandri - cutthroat elven "children" who have yet to prove themselves. Though they appear 10-12 years old by human years, they've seen 30-40 winters, and more than one War each. Their prepubescence offers them a magical protection unique to their people.

Dyr is a Level 5 Magic User.
Psychic Reflector - Immune to mind reading.
Betrayal Auguries - Can detect when betrayal is immediately imminent.

House Vandri Destined
AC As Chain+Shield (High Dex) HD 2 HP 11
1d6/1d6 Swords or Throwing Knives
Spells: Spider Climb, Darkness 1/day
Scarring Rebuke - Damaging a Destined provokes a Blood Curse. Affects you and everyone within earshot of the same race as you. Effect depends on highest Attribute:

Strength: Any damage done is copied back onto you
Dexterity: Age 10 years
Constitution: Allergic to all food and fermented food
Intelligence: Cannot remember any names
Wisdom: Cannot look upon an Elf (includes Destined)
Charisma: Everyone will treat you as an irresponsible child

The Blood Curse can be augured by any cleric. To cure it, the Destined who was wronged must forgive you and make an offering of blood worth at least 1HP on your behalf to appease the gods. Alternatively, a number of Remove Curses equal to the damage done.


Abla "Red", Captain of the Redbeard Company

Six foot, four inch, long-limbed, pipe to match her height. Perpetually surrounded in a haze when indoors. Freckles and Mensur scars. Looks noticeably older in the sunlight.  Talks like an aristocrat-general.

Everyone in the Company calls her "Red", she'd prefer if you called her by her birth name: Abla. You need to earn the right to call her "Red". If you mess up someone will remind you.

She made her money capturing wealthy knights during battles and ransoming them back to their families. Took that money and made The Redbeard Company. This is also how she met her husband, an giant man with a big red beard, occasionally heard yelling incomprehensibly at people in a thick foreign accent.

She leads a company of 200 soldiers with banners of a Red Beard. They aren't salaried. Either they need work, or they need to make their own work. Abla is good at managing that.

She is a schmoozer through and through. When meeting with her, roll on the Have You Met... table below.

The Redbeard Company is headed to fill up the power vacuum in Lome. They're "hiring" freelancers. Abla wants to meet each one personally.

Rules of the Operation:
1. You aren't a part of the Redbeard Company.
2. Law enforcement is the Company's domain.
3. The Company gets a 25% cut of anything you loot.
4. Otherwise, the Company will leave you alone.
5. You tell Abla everything that's going on in Lome.

Abla's Plan
1. Set up camp on the outskirts of Lome
2. Send scouts to recon the town
3. Surround the town.
4. March in at the head of the Company
5. Loot the entire city. Take everything from the current squatters and looters. Burn the corpse pile.
6. Set up a base in the building where the most powerful person of the city lived or ruled.
7. Send the loot away. Leave a "peacekeeping" contingent behind to extort newcomers.

Abla "Red" is a level 6 Fighter.
Her Husband Arnold is a level 5 Fighter.
Duelist - +3 AC against one melee opponent.

Redbeard Company Mercenary
AC As Chain  HDHP 10
1d10 Poleaxe or Longbow

Have You Met...

  1. Heironimous Bort? Apparently he invented a new kind of torture. What did you call it, Bort? Visceral Psychosomatic Autokinesis?
  2. My husband Arnold? Oh! That reminds me... Dear! Would you kindly take care of the hostages? Their families shortchanged us on the ransom.
  3. Sir Roland? Apparently he split a man and his horse clean in half at the Battle of No Ghost Land.
  4. Lord Ginax? He owns the largest butcherbird flock in the land, among other illustrious things. (To the Lord) Would you care for some more wine, Charles?
  5. This silly fellow? Caught him drinking in town during his guard shift. How many beatings is that worth do you think? Five?
  6. Ajax? I didn't think orcs got this big, but I guess they can still surprise me time to time.
  7. Our mutual friend here? (Someone previously encountered) Apparently he saw fit to taunt some of my men on the highway. Haven't decided what to make of them yet.
  8. The Earl of Yeomer? He tried to run me through at the Battle of his namesake. I'm not sure his family will ever be able to pay the interest on his ransom...