Only a few years ago I was a fine and handsome elven cleric in the service of Tyr. So maybe one day I broke my vows a little. Fucked a few wenches, belted back a few spirits, and apparently started a few fights.

Particularly with a few fucking dwarves and orcs. Fuck, I hate them both. That night, the liquid courage was strong, and I let rip a barrage of racial slurs and laid down my fists of furry. Don't remember much after that. I guess I must've fucked off and passed out. That, or had my ass kicked the fuck out of that tavern.

Either way, during my blackout, I recall having a vision of Tyr, demanding that I must atone for my actions by suffering the fate as I had inflicted upon others. When I woke, and after blowing chunks into a nearby steam, I saw my "atonement". Tyr cursed me to live as a fuckin' dwarven orc hybrid! FUCK!!!

Raged beyond belief, I drew a picture of Tyr in the mud, swiftly took a shit on it, and decided to give into the powers of darkness. "FUCK TYR! PRAISE BE GARGAUTH!" I shouted.

I thusly cast aside my shitty old life, to seek vengeance of any kind. I hate fuckin' dwarves and orcs now even more so. Look at me fuck! Fuckin' green fuckin' skin and red fuckin' hair!

Hear my cry, Sinfar! The hell's hath no furry, like a Christov the Pissed Off been royally fucked!