Exploding into the open from the trees, Veronica yanked on his mounts' reigns, eliciting a loud whinny from the devil horse as it drew to a halt in a cloud of dust.
He dismounted with a slight groan. The healing potion had done its job, but he'd been near death and he was still stiff and sore. His clothes hung about him, torn and tattered.
"Curse Dreth," he muttered to himself as he staggered over to the door.
It had been a long ride, and with his sword bent out of shape and useless from his 'accident', as he had decided to call it, he'd had to kill a group of bandits who had waylaid him with his bare hands. Even that piece of brutality hadn't cheered him up though, and he was in a foul mood as he entered the shop.
"Good day sir!" A small form, short and fat, peered over some half moon spectacles from behind a counter nearly as tall as he was.
"Says who?" scowled The Violator.
