“it’s broken” The Hero thought, “i forgot to charge the fucking thing last night” he strode up to beast and hacked through his mudded cloak; hacked through its matted fur, hacked through flesh and bone and sinew. guts slipped out and blood gushed up the walls and on The Hero’s face and royal surcoat, gifted by Sir Knight for that thing he did in the previous book. The beast gurgled out his last bloody breath as The Hero smashed his boot through skull and brains. The cacophony of gore did little to still the crowd in The Pub, aside from a few farm-boys staring from their cups, and the Bartender looking pretty pissed off. The Hero paid them no mind, and walked up to the bar and ordered a pint of mead, “no not that one, the one from the back if you don’t mind” The Hero wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, and then his sleeve on the back of a man slumped over the bar, oblivious. “and here’s extra for the clean up” The Bartender took the coin and explained that the Wolf-Man’s tab was ten thousand Royals, and The Hero had to pay. Tonight.