Greetings again, underworked adventurers. I am sorry to disturb you from your troubled slumber in the middle of the night, especially via jabbering goblin leering over your bed/mattress/paving stone. But I have to get this vital tip out to you while I can.

Most of the big adventurer bullies that are obviously holding us against our will in the Sloppy Pig pub have drunk themselves into a stupor. So have the other three union leaders, again against their will. I mean, the heroes' soaring, rousing drinking songs are just too good to resist.

Not so for I, Sober Pete. I alone am impervious to those foul brews, and for that I have had the good fortune to be left alone with Graal, the last captor standing. He may be a raging, twelve-foot battering ram of unreasoning orc-flesh, but he's such a sweetheart to me. And now, after my numerous secret draughts of poison slipped into his beers have failed, he has had just enough alcohol or toxic potions or both to agree to an interview about strategy.

Graal is worth listening to, man. He's got a big axe that's like, crackling with lightning, so he must be legit. As a dedicated leader of our union, I feel obliged to secretly pass on his sage wisdom for your own battling pleasure. So here goes.

Pete: So, you're obviously a seasoned adventurer. A champion of the upper cells of the Hive. Tell me, how did you step up from the masses of struggling adventurers waddling through the Gateway?

Graal: SMASH.

Pete: So you just got straight to it? Well maybe the Hive was a more interesting place back then. Perhaps we should focus more on fighting technique, for if our members actually find something to fight. So, you're facing down an enemy, any enemy for now. What's the single most important thing to do?

Graal: SMASH.

Pete: Good start. But what if the opponent is out of range? One of those cowards shooting you from afar before you have chance?

Graal: SMASH.

Pete: I'm sure there's a lot of seriously powerful mages out there though, in the more lucrative cells that my friends are banned from. How do you assess the danger they pose when there's like 255 certified Questworld spells to destroy you? Any telltale signs of what they'll use? How do you resist all those types of damage?

Graal: SMASH.

Pete: Uhhh... right. Let me get to the other warriors, and please don't burst open my poor bald head between your thumb and forefinger like a disappointing grape. There's always a bigger warrior. So... you're up against an even mightier fighter. He's thirteen feet tall, arms the size of temple columns rather than your puny tree trunks, and a modicum of intelligence, and at least you won't take offence at my last point because I used words of more than two syllables. He's quite capable of beating you to a pulp in a straight fight. What do you do?

Graal: SMASH.

Pete: Thank you for your time. And please don't tell your colleagues we had this interview.

Graal: SMASH.

So there you have it, guys. I did send out a goblin to the Tripeak library for a dictionary of orcish words, to decipher any deeper meanings to what my wonderful friend told me. But it turns out orcs use common tongue like us. Just with less words.

To summarise my findings, one tried and tested path to fame and fortune as an adventurer is this:

Hit things as hard as you can until they are dead.

This exclusive strategy brought to you by the Questworld Union Of Underworked Adventurers.