Live By The Sword!

This land was nearly as familiar to him as those he had grown up in, being by nature a fighter and growing up in a pack and a family of fighters and this being the best place for him to find strangers willing to fight. In fact, that was precisely why he was there! Fighting, like all skills, could get rusty with disuse. In the world he lived in, the way he lived in it, losing a fight could end with him badly maimed or dead - rusty skills weren't acceptable. Wendigo stretched and yawned, casually tapping his steel claws against a rock and surveying the plain through half-lidded eyes. He wondered if he ought to get a pair of companions - or three, or whatever - like his father's owls. He'd worked with a pair of jackels for a while, and they'd been pretty great in a fight and could be great for being intimidating when needed, but they'd stayed in their homeland when he'd returned to his. He could use another team like that... For now though... it was well past time to scrub the rust off his joints and sharpen himself. Lifting his heavy head he called lazily for an opponent willing to pit their skills against his. Maybe he'd even find someone worthy of extending a future invitation to his planned reivers.