There's something so dissatisfying about playing a cleric like everyone else expects you to play one. I mean sure, I could play the damned thing like a walking medic who's only concern is making sure that your every little boo boo is kissed and that you never have to suffer under the slings and arrows of life's cruelties; but why would I? So you can have all the fun and I can sit behind you twiddling my thumbs waiting for my next chance to heal you?
Fuck that noise.
If I'm going to be playing a cleric than I'm going to make damned well and sure to enjoy the experience. So that means that your walking Band-aid factory has just closed down because I'm not wasting my time playing a cleric of Pelor. I am the walking embodiment of Trithereon on this game's world and if you think for one second that healing your bleeding ass comes ahead of the boot I'm about to put in that giant's grill you've got another thing coming. See when I play a cleric of Trithereon I play a fundamentalist Trithereonite. That means that this warm and fuzzy bullshit you've been reading in those reformists pamphlets about liberty, and individuality is nothing more than a fart in the wind as far as I'm concerned.
I believe in that old school, death from the sky, kill all your family and make you watch retribution that all the kids these days want to sweep under the table so that it doesn't scare away those delicate flowers they want to bring in to my faith. So no, I'm not going to heal your dumb ass just because you got caught on that spike trap and lost your good eye. I'm going to find the mother fucker who made it and wear him as my new winter coat. That's how I have fun playing a cleric: by making him the scariest mother fucker in the game.