"Bloody 'ell," Pelgrum muttered, as his former wife fell backwards with the fire poker jammed in her eye. "That was a bit unexpected." 

He'd been awake for around five minutes, having slept through the day with a heavy cloud of wine overhanging his senses. His wife had been the one to stir him from his sleep, but as he opened his eyes, he saw that half of her face was missing. Pelgrum never liked her much as she was a nagging wench on her best day, and as she tried to chomp his face, he finally lived out a fantasy he'd been hiding for years: he killed her! 

Now, standing over her lifeless corpse, breathing heavy and perspiring, Pelgrum decided it was time to find out what on earth was happening. People were screaming outside of his rather snug stone-build "manor" (a small house with a sign outside it, prescribing it as a manor, in anycase), fire light was blaring through the windows, and somewhere amidst the crackle of flame, he heard some ungodly noises. 

He moved over to a window at the front of the house, pulled back the curtain, allowed his eyes to go so wide that they almost fell from his head, and promptly took a step back. His next port of call was the liqueur cabinet, where he indulged in a neat bottle of Eastern Brandy for a good few minutes before retiring to the back room. 

The back room, as Pelgrum called it, was more a museum or a rich man's show boating establishment. Precious artefacts, signed historical documents, gemstones - all the like - were neatly encased in glass cabinets. Pelgrum wasn't interested in monetary worth today though, he was more interested in surviving the next couple of hours. The brandy taking over his brain told him that whatever was going on outside, needed a bigger than life solution. 

He approached a mound covered by a dusty table cloth, and appraised it with a nodding grin. Quickly, he pulled back the cover, revealing his pride possession: Teardrinker, the Destroyer of Orphanages, and a mighty damn fine catapult. Ideally two man-operated, but made from solid oak and encased in durasteel. Its mechanism was of Elven design, and the whole thing was easy to move thanks to its pedal-propulsion device. Two hard wooden seats were located at the weapon's rear either side of the bucket. 

Steering it and loading it was another matter, but he'd deal with that when the time came. 

"Yup," Pelgrum said, with a burp. "This oughta do it."