The hooded and cloaked man slipped into the tavern, the great wolfish hound at his side drawing more than one stare. The harried barmaid bustled over as the man and animal settled into an empty niche away from the curious eyes of the other patrons.
"What can I get for you?" she asked, casting a wary eye on the massive dog sitting by the table.
"Ale," the man said with a gentle smile. "Don't fear old Benn there, he won't hurt you."
The barmaid laughed as the hound's tale thumped on the hard-wood floor. It's eyes rolled back in pleasure and its tongue lolled from its mouth as the girl scratched its ears.
"Your ale will be right out," she said forcing herself to part with the amiable animal.
"You're getting soft Benn," Thane Shadowholme murmured as the dog crawled under the table to flop across his feet. He leaned back to gaze out the window at the rain lashed night, bringing out a finely crafted pipe. He carefully lit it and felt himself begin to relax as the warmth and the white noise of dozens of conversations drifted over him.
The barmaid returned bringing him back to reality. "Thank you," he said as she set out a foaming tankard and a plate of bread and cheese.
"You are welcome," she replied, smiling as the big dog began to push against her leg with its head, whining for attention. She looked up at Thane as she petted the shaggy skull. "I have a bone in the kitchen I could give him, if you would like him to be fed."
He shrugged and took out his pipe to speak. "Why not? Thank you for your kindness Miss." After the barmaid left he regarded the dog with melancholy amusement. "At least one of us can make friends, huh fuzzball?" He stroked his pet's silky fur. "Don't get too proud of yourself. Large and furry with puppy dog eyes doesn't cut it."
" And don't I know it," he mumbled to himself, fingering the Gilnean symbol hidden under his shirt. It had not taken long since the opening of the Greymane Wall for him to learn to keep the medallion out of sight.
He smiled and nodded his thanks as the barmaid flitted by once again, this time leaving a large bone.
The evening slowly passed by and eventually the crowd began to thin. Thane found himself sitting in front of the hearth, carefully transforming a block of wood into a large hound. The barmaid, whose name Thane found was Jetta, sat by an empty table stroking Benn's head as the hound dozed with its head on her lap.
Thane looked up as the bartender, a jolly, heavyset man with grey hair and a cheerful smile, squeezed out from behind the bar.
"Quieted down didn't it?" he asked as he sat down near Thane, leaning back with a groan.
Thane paused his carving. "I can leave if you wish," he said. "I do not wish to trouble you…."
The bartender gave a short grunting laugh. "Oh it is not trouble. Besides I don't think my Jetta wants to part with her new friend."
A smile spread over Thane's face as he watched the girl and the dog. "Aye, and old Benn would take that for days if he could."
"Jetta's always had a way with the animals," the bartender said, extending his hand to Thane. "And the creatures love her back. My name is John. You have a place to stay tonight friend?"
"Call me Thane," the younger man said reaching out his hand in return. "And no I do not. I had been figuring to sleep in the stable."
"A lot of folks coming from the west; now there are odd stories floating about of strangers from behind the wall at Gilneas," John continued, his shrewd eyes trained on Thane. "Strange stories, frightening even…."
Thane's throat tightened and he had to force his face to remain a calm mask. "What of them?" he asked.
"I mean no offense good sir," John said raising his hands in a placating gesture. He leaned forward concern filling his mild eyes. "I know you are from Gilneas, or around there at least. You're accent isn't easy to hide. Now you're a stranger here so I don't blame you for not knowing, but the people here are afraid, we know the beasts that are supposed to be behind those walls. The Bloodfang wolf-men have killed many people of our town, and there are stories of a darker fate for others."
"So the Gilneans are feared as cursed, for bringing the worgen," Thane said, voice flat and cold. "I see – "
John raised his hands cutting the disgruntled hunter short. "No no no, I mean no offense good sir, and please don't get the wrong idea, I only want to help. The worgen are greatly feared, and right or wrong the people of this town blame those behind the Greymane Wall." He slowed and looked Thane in the eye. "I want you to stay here in the inn tonight. There are those in this town that would kill you or run you off, rather than risk entertaining one who could carry the curse."
Bewilderment filled Thane's face. "Even so I cannot leave" he said. "I have taken bounties on the ogres to the north, and have accepted payment. Honor does not allow me to walk away…."
John's eyes widened in surprise and sudden respect, and he glanced at the splendid but worn sword that hung at Thane's side. "It takes a man of skill to hunt those brutes, or a great fool." He said, pausing as he regarded Thane with new eyes. "And something tells me that you are no fool."
A grim smile touched Thane's bewhiskered features. "I certainly hope not."
"If you give those monsters a reason to fear, you will make yourself a fast friend of this village, Gilnean or no," the cunning bartender said with a grin. "Until then you can stay in here by the fire." He rose and summoned his dozing daughter, shaking his head at her sorrowful expression. "Come now Jetta, leave the poor man and his dog to their rest."
He chuckled as she got up and flounced out. "I would watch out Master Thane, I think my daughter wants to keep your dog for herself."
Thane snorted, before chuckling helplessly as Benn padded over and pressed against his legs. "Old Benn's getting soft I tell you," he replied, shaking his head. "And here I thought dogs were supposed to be loyal, not fawning after every lass that gives him her attention."
The elderly bartender smiled, and got up with a grunt. He shook Thanes hand. "Good night to you friend, and good hunting tomorrow."
For a short time Thane stared into the dying fire, pondering the strange scar he could still feel on his shoulder. Once he was sure the tavern keeper and his daughter would not return he allowed himself to shift into his true form. The silver haired worgen stared sadly at his massive, clawed, paw-like hands before burying his scared muzzle in them.
Benn padded over to his master, wedging his head under Thane's arm. The lonely lycanthrope gazed down at his hound. Though the rage of the worgen curse had been cured, the fearful affliction still haunted Thane. The fear and the hatred of other races toward his kind filled Thane's heart with sorrow and hurt. He could already feel the frightened, hateful, unreasoning eyes of the townsmen as they discovered his true nature.
"Will I ever be free of their hate?" he asked the night. "Will I ever be free from my curse?"