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one, provided he wasn’t able to drive him off first. He pulled an inch of his blade free to loosen it.
    Three men, all foul looking and ill tempered, were arrayed before him. One was missing an eye, the scars on that side of his face already faded. He was clearly the leader, for the others were almost skittish, as if they understood the truth of what they were attempting. Kavan pitied them. Almost.
    “This is your only chance. Walk away now and there won’t be trouble,” he warned, though deep inside he knew they wouldn’t comply.
    It was a sad state of the human condition when pride interfered with common sense.
    “Three on one is pretty good odds, even ‘gainst one of you.” He spat a wad of partially chewed iron leaf. The acidic flavor poured from his mouth in vapors.
    Kavan’s smile was grim, almost sad. “It’s really not.”
    He moved, seizing advantage before the others had the chance to react. His sword hissed free, eager to kiss the open air again. The Gaimosian danced with the skill and grace of a venerable warrior. A hand was hacked free. Blood curdling screams followed. A second move and he skewered the man on the right. Blade punched through flesh and bone before twisting and jerking free.
    A rope of hot blood splashed on the one eyed man’s boots. He hadn’t the chance to close his mouth from spitting before Kavan’s blade gingerly touched him just below his one good eye. He began to tremble.
    “Not wise, friend,” Kavan admonished. “I told you to walk away.”
    Rage and fear conflicted in his eyes, but he was wise enough not to speak lest Kavan’s sword drive into his flesh.
    Kavan glanced at the man’s partners. The one had died and the other had fallen mercifully silent. His screams reduced to mere whimpers as he clutched at the stump of his arm. Kavan frowned, for there was no more distressing sound than a grown man whimpering.
    “See to your friend before he bleeds out.”
    He whipped his sword away and back into the scabbard. Disturbed with his actions, the Gaimosian paused before returning to his horse. “Do not let me catch you again. Fate will not be so kind twice.”
    Confident that no more would occur, Kavan went about his business. It was only when the growl of an empty stomach stole his attention that he realized he was famished. Room secure, he headed back out in search of a meal. He only made it a few meters before being confronted once more.
    “Well, well, I hadn’t expected to see you slumming in this part of the world,” a burly old veteran said with genuine smile.
    Kavan returned the smile and finally allowed his defenses to relax, slightly. “Dag! I was sure you’d be dead by now.”
    “Death doesn’t want me I’m afraid. But you, from what I hear Lord Death has been stalking you for quite some time.”
    The two embraced. Kavan winced from the force of Dag’s slap on the back. His friend may have been older, but he lacked nothing of power.
    “What brings you around here?” Dag asked.
    Kavan opened his mouth but paused, unsure of what he should say, for the details still weren’t settled in his mind. The confusion laced his eyes, prompting Dag to nod thoughtfully. Ultimately Kavan decided that such a conversation wasn’t for the open street. The pair headed off to the nearest kitchen where the food was overpriced and under flavored. Just the way a man used to always being on the move appreciated. Only after Kavan’s stomach was full and his taste buds left in utter confusion was he ready to tell his tale.
    Dag sat through it listening intently. His mouth dropped at the details of Kavan’s battle with the werebeast. In so far as he knew there were no more of the dangerous, virtually mythical creatures, left in the world. For the Gaimosian to have stumbled upon them now whispered dark tidings. Much of the tale became more manageable to accept by the time they reached the bottom of their second pitcher of ale.
    “You lead a charmed life,” Dag announced with