There was an audible crunch when Tam’s fist met the old wizard’s face. The man staggered back, clutching his hands over his nose and gasped incredulously. The long oak staff he held fell into the mud with a splash.

“Ouch, why in Hel’s name did you do that for?”, the man asked.

Tam just looked at him blankly and turned his attention back to the three pigs in the pen in front of him. He picked up a bucket of swill and tossed the contents into the pen.

“I know your type, and I know what you are about to say”, Tam said in a cold, uninterested voice. “And I don’t want anything to do with it. I am happy here, minding my own business, just like I wish you all would do”.

The gray-haired man had produced a white silk handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it with one hand against his nose. A red stain had already started to form.

“But the fate of the world depends on you!” he exclaimed. “The prophecy…”.

Before he could finish the sentence, Tam spun around raising his fist.

“I dare you to say that word again. I double dare you!” Tam almost shouted. His calm demeanor had evaporated in an instant. Tam’s face turned red, his nostrils flared and his eyes burned with the intensity of a mad man.

“Leave now, or I can not be held responsible for my actions”, he said, visibly struggling to control his rage.

The wizard looked as if he was about to protest, but then he shook his head and muttered something about how the world was doomed before scurrying away. Tam sighed and bent down to pick up the staff. He went around the pigsty and tossed the staff in a heap with similar looking items. The pile was as high as Tam’s waist.