My name is Leg-iron, and we are merry.
I have decided it's time I took on an assistant. I can't work in my lab and watch out for Ferals, flying monkeys, the scaly swamp thing, salesmen and relatives all at the same time. So I selected the village cripple, known as Leg-iron because of the steel rods that hold him up. Well, nobody else had any use for him, and he's the only customer in the local pub, the 'Throat and Razor', who ever speaks to me. He shares my contempt for all things that breathe, which is a good sign.
I know, I'm not supposed to call him a cripple these days. I'm supposed to use some politically correct term like 'leg-illy challenged' or some similar nonsense.
I call him 'Stumpy'.
If you're shocked and horrified at that, you should hear what he calls me.
So far he seems to be getting along fine. He doesn't bother me with trivia, such as when the swamp's entire population of two-headed lizards try to climb the castle walls. He just heats up the lead and deals with it.
So maybe he'll last longer than my previous assistants. We shall see.
