Lord Trefeln

Commander of the Sizan army, champion of the people and Grade A Lute Musician, Lord Anthony Trefeln has dedicated his life to the total and utter eradication of orckind. In human circles he is regarded as a hero, protecting the Firste Worlde from the evil greenskins and all their like - in orc circles as "That Bastard With The Big Conk An' The Stupid 'Aircut What Goes Around Killin' Everybody." The people Lord Trefeln is the champion of tend to be the human sort of people.

There are various drives behind his ongoing war with the orcs, but chief among them is the one that also inspires him to arrange all his furniture at precise nintety-degree angles and to polish his armour until it becomes, effectively, a body-shaped mirror - namely, perfectionism. Just as he knows that an army hasn't a hope of winning if the men haven't cleaned their boots properly, he knows that orcs are an evil, murderous blight on the existence of all decent life, and as such he deems it his responsibility to use the powers at his disposal to make the worlde a better place. He has a very particular conception of how things should be -and it is worth bearing in mind that every single one of his soldiers goes into battle with boots you could eat a very small meal off of.

The culmination of a year-long campaign in L'arynjita brings him and his men to Castle Rukfar, the temporary accommodation of the Clan Pickaxe and the site of what is destined to be his triumphant victory over the orcs of the Dubious Coast. Unfortunately somebody forgot to tell the orcs, and the revelation that they've buggered off before he can kill them is one that he finds most displeasing. Therein lies the crux of the plot; the orcs are supposed to die, and Trefeln intends to make sure that they jolly well do.

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