As you lean back in your chair with a sigh and count the hours left in the working day, a hideously hairy stranger appears in the door. His eyes are yellow and bulging, his beard rank with ale and bogwater, his helm battered and hung with viscera. He opens his stinking yap and bellows at you like an elephant seal with its whiskers trapped in a lawnmower. Then he drops a huge pile of crude, rusty weapons at your feet.