He would never be a popular member of the squadron. His colleagues found him somewhat disconcerting. There was a brittleness about him that made other... wary. It was as if he were barely contained, always teetering on the edge of violence. His rages were legendary. Most of the time he managed to remain silent, white faced, eyes blazing with murderous intent. Very occasionally he was unable to restrain himself and would vent his fury in a high-pitched voice, crackling with rage and dripping. That last bitch must have poisoned me with her quim. To think I was so nice to her, giving her an extra copper and a kiss. May the gods shrivel her snatch and anvil her anus with painful pustules of pus. Ahgg!"Stefan had heard it before, and was neither impressed nor looking forward to weeks of complaint, "Your masterful poetry is wasted on the beasts of the field. Maybe a healer in Sardaford can give some relief, but until then, you will have to bear the pain." Healer?" Gregor snapped. "You. More

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