Handy could tell you he did not enjoy the looks of superstitious awe he elicited from the staff of the castle and the fact that the average griffon in the street was speculating wildly about what he could be and the rumours of him being a blood drinker fuelling mad anticipation for the upcoming duel, news of which already broke out in the city below and above. He could tell you that, and he’d be a dirty, dirty liar because of it. His concern for the impending fight aside, he really enjoyed the rather sinister reputation he held. Well, not exactly sinister, he wasn’t going about sacrificing virgins to dark and terrible gods in the middle of the night afterall.