“From the anular journal of Lord Catatonia on his travels in the infernal....

"...from the mists we espied a leap of Orcs, who as we know are feeble creatures, given to the worship of the great one but never able to do justice to the majesty of disorder, so poorly spun be the cloth from which they are cut. We faced them down. But now we have a saying where I come from, which is why have so many goat-men round here? Because its harder to make leather out of a minotaur. And never send a goat to do a man's job. They crumbled under the assault of the green-skinned menace, and horde-like, they pounced upon our minoan mutant, hanging on to him from every brass ring, and of those he has a lot. The injury box filled with more goat than a greek casserole and I, while appreciating the mayhem as any professional would, could only watch as our snuffling foes hobbled the ball to our touchzone once per bisection. Delicious as the humiliation was, I was distracted for a time, and found my hand crushed in my gauntlet. I was ill-pleased. Perhaps I should put the cloven-hoofed to their best used and stay off the field of battle myself in future. Or perhaps I should extract vicious revenge on all that pass before me...indecision is my new watch-word..."”