When the hunted tell tales of Symian the Bounty Hunter, none are sure of which are true. In whispered tones they say he was abandoned at the age of 5, learning his skill in tracking as a matter of simple survival. Others hear he was an orphan of war, taken in by a great hunter to learn the master's skill as they plumbed the dark forests for big game.

Still others believe he was a lowly street urchin raised among a guild of cutpurses and theives, trained in the arts of stealth and misdirection. Around campfires in the wild countryside his quarry speaks the rumors of Symian's work, growing ever more fearful: they say it was he who tracked down the Goblin King years after the mad regent went into hiding, delivering his head and scepter as proof. That it was he who infiltrated the rebel camps at Highseat, finally bringing the legendary thief White Cape to be judged for his crimes. And that it was he who ended the career of his teacher, condemned as a criminal for killing the Prince's prized hellkite.

The tales of Symian's incredible skill stretch on, with each daring feat more unbelievable than the last, each target more elusive. For the right price, the hunted know, anyone can be found. For the right price, even the mightiest may find fear in the shadows.

Lights:

None.

I take the NYC subway to work.