Sir Roderick Amplepole

If I am to venture within this dungeon you speak of I have several demands that I shall not relinquish. 1. It must be challenging. If I am not losing at least one of my Orlans per level then I will feel quite the fool in making that bulk purchase in New Heomar. Indeed, an Orlan bewteen one's saddle and buttocks can provide comfort on long journeys but I have enough to get me from Girrar to New Yarma thrice over without a single blister. And have you ever tried to keep a secret from an Orlan? I discretely broke wind whilst bathing at Maiden Falls and somehow they heard. Travelling with them has been trying. 2. Clever puzzles. Too many times I have braved the ruins of some long forgotten temple only to find a set of levers; a narrow, arrowslit lined hall; and a band of buffoons emerging from an open doorway holding a rod of resurrection and sacks of loot. It's quite exhausting toiling all night long and come morning be left with an empty sack. 3. Unique items and artefacts. I am currently in need of a new longsword. "Spittle" my +2 1D6 acid enchanted longsword has rusted. I had only to speak my terms and foes would cower with such a weapon by my side. I do not want to replace it with some feeble blade endowed with some minor enchantment by some incompetent apprentice who most probably turned himself to ash at his subsequent trial. Onwards to adventure!

Eight fine companions keen for adventure and glory, you say? Very well, send them hither and together we shall seek out the most dank, foul smelling crevice and give it a thorough cleansing! Though, be warned, I am an uncompromising leader and will not stop until I get to the bottom of the matter. I have but one concern. Tell me, are these companions a little wordy? When I'm knee deep in excrement and elbow deep in entrails I do not care for tales of broken hearts. I suppose I could indulge a backstory here and there, so long as I am not bludgeoned about the ears with it like a mace. Quite often there is no point. I am reminded of one such time when I led a foray into a red dragon's lair. The excrement was mostly of my companions' in this case. However, under my leadership they managed to overcome their fears and prove to be a worthy distraction whilst I felled the beast. Red dragon aside, the real test was that of my patience. I had gotten very little sleep the night before care of a lass from the nearby village that had no doubt heard of my prowess. In addition, during the march through those caverns, my cod piece began to cause considerable chafing and itch. I was in no mood for the party druid bemoaning the loss of balance; the elven cleric lamenting the loss of some appendage; and the red wizard moaning about only the gods know what (bah.. foreigners they are impossible to understand). The only useful words spoken were those of the party warrior who advised that a hamster down one's breeches could provide some relief to the discomfort I was feeling. Onwards, fellow adventurers!