Voshak's hair, a pale blond braid, which he bleached, was his trademark. It made him memorable. That's how the slavers operated. They adopted costumes and personas, trying to make themselves larger-than-life and hoping to inspire fear. They counted on that fear. One could fight a man, but nobody could fight a nightmare.

A pissy werelion was rather difficult to live with.

I was a knight," Andrea said. "I'm not just going to start shooting every dickhead who mouths off to me." "Just making sure." "Besides, if I shot him, I'd do it so nobody could trace it back to me. I'd shoot him somewhere remote, his head would explode like a melon, and they would never find his body. He would just vanish.

I wondered if kicking him in the head would make the whole explanation pop out of his mouth in one chunk.

Nothing kills a party like an oversize metal hedgehog.

At the door, Audrey called, "Are you coming?" "No, just breathing hard, love." He glanced at her and was rewarded by an outraged glare, followed by, "Oh, my God!

Just to make sure the odd humanoid aberration doesn't get away, always pin it through the nuts.