Loveletters

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Three weeks ago... [[Skadi, the Thief]] [[Faolán Malahide, the Bard]] [[Cadence Wildcount, the Immolator]] [[Parhelion of the Salt Wastes, the Cleric]]

Are you staying in an inn? Are you staying in a city? [[inn]] | [[city]]

It's warm, and quiet. Comfortable, as much as you understand the term. The barkeep watches you with curiosity, and the other patrons whisper.<<set $place = "inn">> You go for a [[walk]].

It bustles. It's exciting, but overstimulating. You get looks, sometimes. Children gawk. Their parents stare more politely. You don't see another of your kind.<<set $place = "city">> You go for a [[walk]].

You’ve been aboveground for a while now — not a long time, you gather, in the span of a life, but long enough that you feel like you’re getting the hang of it. You’ve stopped craning your neck to look at the sky. You don’t laugh when rabbits dash across your path, twitching their noses and bolting like they’ve seen a predator. But there’s still an element of the fantastic to it, right? There are always new things to see, to discover. There are more colors than in Ocmor. You’re taking a shortcut through a weedy but foraged path in the nearby forests, killing time, when a tree stump, mossy and mushroomed, rattles to your left. You hear the dull clank of metal against wet wood. As you approach, you can tell there’s an animal within it, burrowed into a rotted crevice in its side. A bloody bear trap is pressed against it, like the animal had dragged it to safety. You can see it fidgeting. How do you feel? Are you frightened? [[fear]] | [[pity]]

The way it writhes unnerves you. It's too small, too fragile to put up that violent of a fight. Panic is an animal emotion. It makes you uneasy. What is it? [[roll 1d4|either("bird","possum","faun","bobcat")]]

You pity it, the poor weak thing. The blood leaking into the dirt around the stump is sluggish brown. The fight's almost left it. You thank the stars for your crystalline strength. What is it? [[roll 1d4|either("bird","possum","faun","bobcat")]]

It's a bird, much larger than the familar sparrows that dart between the trees all day. This one has dark feathers, dark eyes -- it jolts in alarm as you approach. The trap clings to its tail.<<set $animals = "birds">><<set $animal = "bird">> <<set $furfeathers = "feathers">> [[come closer]]

You’ve been on the road for the better part of the year, it feels like. You take your breaks where you can get them. In pubs, when possible, with a beer. How are you in crowds? Are you friendly, reserved, reclusive? [[friendly]] | [[reserved]] | [[reclusive]]

You’ve spent your fair share of time in inns. There’s something different about this one, though. There’s music. You walk inside and hear singing. As it turns out, everyone in the inn is a bard. That’s what it feels like, at least. A laughing dwarf tells you, when you ask, that this is where songs are traded and stories are told. Foster Oxblood’s inn, every summer. You’re lucky you made it on time. There’s plenty to go around. They love your songs. You tell your stories at night, at first, when most enjoy to hear about strange creatures, but eventually people are grabbing your wrist at midday, asking you for one more. It’s a camaraderie you’ve never experienced, this many storytellers in one place. The barkeep Foster has an honest smile, and is generous with his praise. You save the most frightening monsters for him. [[tell him of spiders]] | [[tell him of sea creatures]] | [[tell him of sirens]]

Where are you traveling? [[out from the wastes]] | [[out from the forest]] | [[out from the sea]]

He clasps your hand in both of his and pushes something into your palm. [[Roll 1d4.|either("foster gift","foster gift 2","foster gift 3","foster gift 4")]]

You step to the side, making sure to thank him to cover your inelegance. You have gained a ''move''! ''Tied to the Masthead'': When someone tries to ''ensnare you mentally'', roll+CHA. On a success, their attempts fail. On a partial success, their attempts fail, but you are distracted, and opened up to consequences. <<set $foster = "move">> Foster bows his head, grins, and waves you [[away|faolan end]].

You stop in settlements along the road, though you normally travel alone. In the past weeks, at each, you have seen a similar figure. You put it out of your mind at first, as these are common roads and many travel in the same direction, but there is a night where you catch their eye over the burning fire in an inn and it becomes too much to deny. You recognize them. They’re a red wolf — small, even for their kind, but with a clever intelligence in their eyes. Do you approach them? [[yes|yes, yes]] | [[no|yes, no]]

They admit they were curious. They were not raised religious, but there is an instinct, an affinity, that has been hounding them for months now. They explain that they saw your holy symbol and that they felt drawn to you, though they know yours is their sister’s god. Do you encourage them, or do you you tell them that faith is more than a want to believe? [[encourage them]] | [[dispel their illusion]]

You take them by the hand and call on your god, waiting patiently as they repeat the words. Their nails are dull from walking on gravel and dust on all fours. Their youth hits you, again. The Sister is quiet. In your chest you feel the warmth of her approval. After, they whisper something in your ear. It’s a prayer they wrote. For you, they say. [[roll 1d3|either("prayer 1","prayer 2","prayer 3")]]

Their youth is overwhelming. Your instinct is towards protection, not conversion. You tell them the Sister lives in their consumption. The lack of waste makes them holy, not the words. If she wanted them for a missionary, they would know. Their face falls, but they take their disappointment with grace. You kiss their furry forehead and let them whisper thanks into your ear. [[roll 1d3|either("prayer 1","prayer 2","prayer 3")]]

You watch the red fox over the sputtering coals of the fire. They stay away, curled in the corner, though their eyes keep flickering to your staff and beaded robe. That night, you lie awake. The stiff straw bed only adds to your restlessness. In the early hours of morning you hear padding footsteps outside the door, then the scrape of nails against wood. You wait until the sun comes up to look. Scratched in the floor by someone without the fine motor skills to write with a quill is a prayer. It’s lopsided and misspelled, but an effort, in good faith. [[roll 1d3|either("prayer 1","prayer 2","prayer 3")]]

The words speak of purity of character, entangled with the sacred. You have gained a ''move''! ''Convert’s Speech'': Once per fortnight, you can petition the Eldest Sister to sanctify your tongue. The next words you say will be treated as truth by all who hear them. You take the gift to [[heart|parry end]].

The bartender meets your broad smile, pouring an ale the size of your forearm and quipping amiably about the condition of your traveling jacket. You pick at the loose threads and retort with a grin: his braid's coming undone. [[look around]]

You snag an empty seat at the bar and gesture for a drink. The bartender smiles with broad, white coyote teeth as he hands you an ale. You politely fend off his small talk. You've got an excuse: you're new in town. [[look around]]

You find an empty table in the corner of the bar, half-hidden by the open window shutters and the shadows of its blown-out candle. You briefly consider trying to catch the eye of the barmaid, but you're exhausted and you know your voice would shake. She'll notice you eventually. [[look around]]

In the corner you see an elf you vaguely recognize. You squint a bit. That’s right — she’s an archaeologist too, and an educated one. A few weeks ago you spent some time at a Dwarven hoard marker where she was doing excavations. She doesn’t look quite as proper now, laughing at her friends, slapping her palm against the table as she gambles. There are empty beer mugs scattered around her. You catch her eye. She’s too drunk to hold a proper conversation, but she grins broadly and grabs you by the wrist, pulling you down onto the bench next to her. Play this round, friend, she says. Come on, let’s unwind. Do you object, or jump in? [[object]] | [[jump in]]

She’s thrilled by your enthusiasm. She wraps her arm around your shoulder and grins at her friends, as if to say, look who I brought! Are you playing cards or dice? [[cards]] | [[dice]]

She’s persistent, and drunk. You push her arm off your shoulder but look at the game anyway. Are you playing cards or dice? [[cards]] | [[dice]]

The elf deals you a hand, exaggerating the twist of her neck so she doesn't see. The back of the cards have a small pattern of green snapping turtles. Roll 2d6 3 times. If two out of three are successes, you win. If two out of three are failures, you lose. [[roll|either("success1","success2","success3","success4","fail1","fail2","fail3","fail4")]]

The elf confiscates a bag of dice from one of her drunker friends and pushes it your way. The etched numbers are almost illegible -- they've seen better days. Roll 2d6 3 times. If two out of three are successes, you win. If two out of three are failures, you lose. [[Roll|either("success1","success2","success3","success4","fail1","fail2","fail3","fail4")]]

<<print random(6,12)>> <<set $success += 1>> [[roll 2d6|either("2 success","2 fail")]]

<<print random(6,12)>> <<set $success += 1>> [[roll 2d6|either("3 success","3 fail")]]

<<print random(6,12)>> <<set $success += 1>> [[winlose]]

The elf claps you on the back, bellowing proudly at her friends. You're glad she's so cheery about the pot of potential drinking money you just swept into your lap. Did you cheat, or was luck on your side? [[I cheated]] | [[I got lucky]]

You weren't going to look a fool in front of a pretty woman, now were you? You have gained a ''move''! ''The House Always Wins'': When you ''willingly enter into a game of chance'', roll+WIS. On a 10+ take one hold; spend hold to change any partial success into a full success. Tell how you rigged the game. On a 7-9 take one hold anyway, but your opponent also has a trick up their sleeve; they can change any partial success into a failure. You sit on your winnings and watch the crew gamble. They're too drunk to make a fuss when you finally excuse yourself, with a last cheeky grin at the elf, to [[sleep|skadi end]].

It's not that you couldn't have rigged it. It's just that, sometimes, you don't have to. You have gained a ''move''! ''Lucky Stars'': When you ''endanger yourself by making a reckless gamble'', take +1 forward until the situation resolves itself — in your favor, or not. You sit on your winnings and watch the crew gamble. They're too drunk to make a fuss when you finally excuse yourself, with a last cheeky grin at the elf, to [[sleep|skadi end]].

The elf and her buddies whistle forlornly. She squeezes your wrist, promising to make up for it. You bow out of the next round and let her buy you a drink. You have gained a ''move''! ''Keep Your Eyes On The Prize'': Once a fortnight, you can re-roll any failed roll that did not severly incapacitate you. You watch the crew gamble, keeping careful track of their clumsy hands and the skidding pieces of gold. They're too drunk to make a fuss when you finally excuse yourself, pocketing a few dropped coins from the bench at your side, to [[sleep|skadi end]].

It’s wounded badly. You can break open the trap — you’re stronger than that rusted iron. You don’t know if that’ll make much of a difference. Do you save it, or put it out of its misery? [[save it]] | [[put it out of its misery]]

You manage to wedge your fingers into the serrated edge of the trap. The $animal shudders, but your hand has given it enough space to yank itself free, its $furfeathers leaving a slick smear of blood on the side of your wrist. <> <<if $animal eq "possum">> The possum's children dart onto its back the minute it's free. It clambers over the tree stump, leaving copper pawprints, and dashes towards the treeline. <</if>> <<if $animal eq "bird">> The bird hops in place, frantic. It takes you a moment to realize you're blocking its avenue of escape -- you sit back on your heels and watch it zip upwards before it swoons, careening in a wide circle and landing in the grass at the edge of the clearing. <</if>> <<if $animal eq "faun">> The faun stumbles upward, too clumsy to limp without dragging its weight on the wounded hoof. It makes small, hurt noises as you help it get its balance, holding your hand flat underneath its belly as it steps forward. When you pull away it shivers, but stays upright. <</if>> <<if $animal eq "bobcat">> The bobcat snarls, its adolescent fangs exposed under bared pink lips. You can't tell if it's a reaction to the pain or your proximity -- you back up hurriedly, falling a bit off-balance and sitting down roughly in the dirt. The bloody cat darts towards the inviting shadows of the forest. <</if>> <> At the edge of the clearing it turns and looks at you. You cock your head at the intelligence in its eyes. The $animal <<if $animal eq "bird">>flutters<<else>>limps<</if>> away. You have gained a ''move''! ''Touchstone'': You are trusted by $animals. Upon a friendly meeting, you can ask any of their brothers and sisters one question about the world they know, and they will answer truthfully to the best of their knowledge. [[leave|cadence end]]

The $animal shies away when you reach out towards it. The wound is deep and already blackening with necrosis, gaping where it tugs away from the trap, and you can hear, underneath the whimpers, a sick quiet noise of metal against bone. Organic creatures aren't your forte, but even you realize this is the beginning of a miserable death. <> <<if $animal eq "possum">> The baby possums swarm around your hands as you lean in. They seem as insignificant as ants next to the bloated, bleeding form of the trapped adult. You gather them up and bring them to the trees first, watching them dash away in a terrified line, before you can bring yourself to deal with what's left of their parent. <</if>> <<if $animal eq "bird">> The bird shrieks as you get close, its siblings in the trees mimicking its terror, but strangely enough, it calms when you actually touch it. You couldn't see because of its color, but the animal is soaked. Your fingers have to fight past the crusted stick of pus and blood. <</if>> <<if $animal eq "faun">> The faun's wide eyes unnerve you. Its fur is short and soft enough that you can tell just how gray its skin has become. Each shallow breath it takes adds to the copper river coagulating around its snapped leg, a slow, naive exsanguination. <</if>> <<if $animal eq "bobcat">> You move towards the bobcat and get snapped at for your trouble, but it's moving with the unwitting lethargy of blood loss. The trap rattles as it kicks, and every movement sends the rusted teeth deeper into its flank. Even if you could get it off, the leg would be snapped in multiple places. <</if>> <> You've never done this before. <<if $animal eq "bobcat">>You take the knife from your belt. After a moment of hesitation, you cut the cat's neck.<<else>>You snap its neck.<</if>> The forest goes still. You swallow and wipe the blood off your hands. You have gained a ''move''! ''Bloodstone'': The $animals have heard what you’ve done — you have gained their wariness, but also their respect. Take +1 forward in any further interaction with their kin. [[leave|cadence end]]

[[Restart?]]

It's a pair of magnetic weights, identically decorated spheres, that you can spin in the palm of your hand with a flick of your fingers. You manage to pull them about a centimeter apart before they snap back together, ringing softly. You have gained an ''item''! ''Foster Oxblood’s Balancing Act'': Take +1 forward to defy danger if you are caught off balance or pushed.<<set $foster = "balances">> You thank him profusely, puzzled but [[touched|faolan end]].

It's an old compass, worn from long years being rubbed between thumb and forefinger in someone's pocket. The hook that would have attached it to a chain is broken. You can see a sheen of gold through the gray patina. You have gained an ''item''! ''Foster Oxblood’s Compass'': If you are lost, roll 2d6. On a hit, the compass will remind you of the direction you came. On a 12, it will also remind you where you are going.<<set $foster = "compass">> You thank him profusely, puzzled but [[touched|faolan end]].

It's a broken ring, unadorned silver and split clean through, like someone took a chisel to it. Foster gives you a sideways smile. He says he won't be needing it anymore. You have gained an ''item''! ''Foster Oxblood’s Wedding Band'': During Charming and Open, you can also ask, “Where are you going?”<<set $foster = "ring">> You thank him profusely, puzzled but [[touched|faolan end]].

It's a silver key hung from a green ribbon, but the metal flows out of shape as Foster presses it into your palm. You open your hand and stare in surprise at the miniscule lines of your skin, etched into its surface like clay. It doesn't feel like any material you've ever touched. You have gained an ''item''! ''Foster Oxblood’s Key-Ring'': You can use this item to mimick the key of any untrapped, unenchanted door. A smith will be able to make a key from the mold. If you attempt to open the door with the mimick, roll 2d6+DEX: on a 10+, it works fine and opens. Otherwise, the mold breaks.<<set $foster = "keyring">> You thank him profusely, puzzled but [[touched|faolan end]].

The words speak of purity of intent, entangled with the sacred. You have gained a ''move''! ''Convert’s Generosity'': Once per fortnight, you can petition the Eldest Sister to sanctify your hands. The next gift you freely give will be treated as priceless treasure to be protected. You take the gift to [[heart|parry end]].

The words speak of purity of strength, entangled with the sacred. You have gained a ''move''! ''Convert’s Offering'': Once per fortnight, you can petition the Eldest Sister to sanctify your knife. The next being you hurt will recognize the pain as a wounding blow, causing either anger or fear. You take the gift to [[heart|parry end]].

This isn't a game you know. At your drunk friend's cue, you draw five cards and hold them in your lap. When she taps your wrist, you look at your hand: <<print random(1,9)>> <<print random(1,9)>> <<print random(1,9)>> <<print random(1,9)>> <<print random(1,9)>> To your side, she exhales. <<set $success to 1>>

<<click "Roll.">><<replace "#roll-link">><<print random(6,12)>> <<click "Roll again?">><<replace "#roll2-link">><<print random(6,12)>> <<click "Once more?">><<replace "#roll3-link">><<print random(6,12)>> [[You won!|win]] <</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>>

It's a possum, caked with dirt and shying away from both you and the sun. As it wriggles, you see its blinking children curled in the rotting hollows of the tree stump. They must have jumped off its back when you got close.<<set $animal = "possum">><<set $animals = "possums">> <<set $furfeathers = "fur">> [[come closer]]

It's a faun, young and delicate with dew-damp fur. Matted blood has turned its white-striped tail pink.<<set $animals = "deer">><<set $animal = "faun">> <<set $furfeathers = "fur">> [[come closer]]

It's a bobcat, a young one, lean and proud but still small enough to coil up with its back to the stump and lick at its injured leg. The trap hangs on stubbornly as it hisses and whines.<<set $animal = "bobcat">> <<set $animals = "bobcats">><<set $furfeathers = "fur">> [[come closer]]

<<if $success < 2>>You [[lose]].<<endif>> <<if $success >= 2>>You [[win]].<<endif>>

<<print random(1,6)>> [[roll 2d6|either("2 success","2 fail")]]

<<print random(1,6)>> [[roll 2d6|either("3 success","3 fail")]]

<<print random(1,6)>> [[winlose]]

<<click "Roll.">><<replace "#roll-link">><<print random(6,12)>> <<click "Roll again?">><<replace "#roll2-link">><<print random(6,12)>> <<click "Once more?">><<replace "#roll3-link">><<print random(1,6)>> [[You won!|win]] <</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>>

<<click "Roll.">><<replace "#roll-link">><<print random(1,6)>> <<click "Roll again?">><<replace "#roll2-link">><<print random(6,12)>> <<click "Once more?">><<replace "#roll3-link">><<print random(6,12)>> [[You won!|win]]<</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>>

<<click "Roll.">><<replace "#roll-link">><<print random(6,12)>> <<click "Roll again?">><<replace "#roll2-link">><<print random(1,6)>> <<click "Once more?">><<replace "#roll3-link">><<print random(6,12)>> [[You won!|win]] <</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>>

<<click "Roll.">><<replace "#roll-link">><<print random(1,6)>> <<click "Roll again?">><<replace "#roll2-link">><<print random(1,6)>> <<click "Once more?">><<replace "#roll3-link">><<print random(1,6)>> [[Oof. Better luck next time.|lose]]<</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>>

<<click "Roll.">><<replace "#roll-link">><<print random(6,12)>> <<click "Roll again?">><<replace "#roll2-link">><<print random(1,6)>> <<click "Once more?">><<replace "#roll3-link">><<print random(1,6)>> [[Oof. Better luck next time.|lose]]<</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>>

<<click "Roll.">><<replace "#roll-link">><<print random(1,6)>> <<click "Roll again?">><<replace "#roll2-link">><<print random(1,6)>> <<click "Once more?">><<replace "#roll3-link">><<print random(6,12)>> [[Oof. Better luck next time.|lose]]<</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>>

<<click "Roll.">><<replace "#roll-link">><<print random(1,6)>> <<click "Roll again?">><<replace "#roll2-link">><<print random(6,12)>> <<click "Once more?">><<replace "#roll3-link">><<print random(1,6)>> [[Oof. Better luck next time.|lose]]<</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>>

There is a <<click "sword.">><<replace "#sword-link">>sword. It is big and looks like it could take somebody's head off.<</replace>><</click>> <<click "roll.">><<replace "#roll-link">><<print random(1,6)>> <<click "roll again?">><<replace "#roll2-link">><<print random(1,6)>> <<click "once more?">><<replace "#roll3-link">><<print random(1,6)>><</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>><</replace>><</click>> <<click "roll">> <<print random(1,6)>> <</click>>

In the morning, the long-suffering sun fights its way through the clouds to greet you. It's easy to slip out of the inn before the slumbering forms around the coals of the fire wake. On the way to the wagon stop, you spot the elf, cross-legged on the rim of the well and lifting a cup to her mouth. She waves to you, almost bashful when sober. The sun catches her eye and makes her wince. You grin and continue on to find a caravan. [[You head west.]]

You walk back to the $place. You take your time. The forest is noiseless and different around you. When you arrive, you sleep, and then [[you head west.|You head west.]]

But all good things must come to an end. Days pass. You’re not making any money, and you’re getting restless. When a caravan passes through, you say goodbye to the bards, give them one last tall tale, and tell Foster you’re going with it. He frowns, and playfully tsks at you, but he offers his hand. Do you take it? [[yes]] | [[no]]

You spin a tale of eyeless carapaces with reaching spindly limbs, weaving shrouds for the lost and the suffering. They live in cloistered families in the forest, an infinite amount of children with an infinite amount of legs. They don't kill, but they cluster around the dead like carrion birds. As tall as a pine, you tell Foster, and as tiny as a head of a pin. They could span a valley if they wanted. Foster shudders. You feel [[satisfied|leaving]].

Off the coast of the vast salt desert, where the seaweed tangles with intent around the rudders of ships and the fish whisper in concert with those lost at sea, a yawning crustacean shell lurks under the first sifted layer of sand. When the great baleen cage of its mouth opens the whole ocean falls inside. It doesn't crush the ships that it traps. They linger, sailing forever in its prodigious bowels, condemned to a sky of blubber and muscle far away from the sun. Foster confesses he's never seen the sea. You go [[quiet|leaving]].

You sing a pretty song of those compelled. Travelers lured by flickering fires off the side of the road, sailors with dry throats setting course for a storm, young men with wide smiles catching their reflection in the mirror. All swayed by the beautiful and irrational. Some drown that way, always looking towards a creature that never looks back. Others live with it. They learn to see past the siren's sharp teeth. Foster smiles. You feel [[convinced|leaving]].

Even just outside, the cheerful noises of the bards seem frighteningly far away. Foster waits in the doorway as you clamber onto the back of the passing wagon, a tailor's, looking for greener pastures. You perch on a pile of carpets and give Foster a smile. <> The caravan pulls out into the dust of the road. <<if $foster eq "move">>You watch the inn shrink away. <<else>>You futz with the $foster in your pocket and watch the inn shrink away. <</if>> <> [[You head west.]]

Though you stay watchful, the red fox doesn't find you again after that night in the inn. You spend the next night exposed to the winds, nestled in the long grasses that line the main road, and build a fire just big enough for a sacrifice. Blood seeps out from your palm into the crackling twigs. The flame dies out soon after. Your god will keep them safe. [[You head west.]]

Your home is harder every time you return: the white dust of your childhood has crystalized, gathering in clusters the size of walnuts that leave welts between the pads of your paws. You miss the empty horizon, the comforting vastness of it, but you always forget that the wind catches enough salt grains to make you cry. On the wide, excavated road that bisects this whole land, you're heading [[south|x]].

You've never gotten quite comfortable with the lush, damp wildwood, but the elves gather around every clearing and copse and they are //generous//. You enter as a missionary warrior, your god at the forefront of your mind, and exit with a full belly and an unnatural appreciation for trees. On the wide, excavated road that bisects this whole land, you're heading [[east|x]].

You spent a pair of long weeks with a tribe of your kin that nest in an empty Dwarven port along the coast. The saline air was refreshing -- the claustrophobic tunneling structures of the city less so. Most of the nights you slept in the street, curled around a lasting fire your brothers built for you from the odd, brilliant mechanisms of the dwarves. It pained you to say goodbye. On the wide, excavated road that bisects this whole land, you're heading [[north|x]].

[[About]]

Interactive introductions. [[About]] [[Restart?]]

These loveletters were written for an in-progress [[Dungeon World|http://www.dungeon-world.com/]] campaign. They've been significantly altered from their original form so that they'd work in Twine (less improvisation, more Click Here For World Detail.) All of them have a unique move or item at the end, with at least two and up to five possiblities that depend on player choices and luck. [[Loveletters|https://joebanner.co.uk/whats-a-love-letter/]] are used in PBTA games to provide exposition and custom moves while giving characters an opportunity for individual play. I didn't do them the classic way, but my players enjoyed them, so! Notes on unconventional species: Cadence, the Immolator, is Starfallen -- a race of crystal people, semi-recently sentient, who live in the great caves of Ocmor underneath the earth. Parry, the Cleric, is a good good hyena boy. Nomadic, bipedal canine tribes are common in this world.