“Excerpt from Lord Catatonia's cult novel The DiceLord....

"....I rolled the knucklebones again today, and once again they directed me to venture forth on the field of conflict. I cursed them when our opponent revealed themselves to be wretched darkly elves. Once again, out-classed by the prancing harlequins, our goats were left confused. Our mighty bull-headed mascot also became slow-witted, allowing an early poor challenge upon him to pass unchallenged, and the elf skipped across the touchline an eye's-blink after the start. I ordered our rabble to engage in a grinding scrap, and the blasted black pixies were forced to wait until the last minute before they could get the ball to our endzone a second time, but in the end they had made us look foolish. I rolled the dice again to establish a punishment. The result: my helm was filled with soured milk. I savoured the humiliation, as ever..."”