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Clovak was pushing sixty, but from a far one may have miss took him for his young son Novak, if not for his scars of many battles and brawls,the scars, crisscrossed over his mighty frame, his square-cut hair was long and coarse, at one time it was dark brown, but now it was high lighted with light gray, it came down to his muscular shoulders, his beard was showing traces of white, and his sun darken skin was becoming more leathery, and he was a little stiffer and slower then he was in his younger years, but the strength of his massive body was still that of two ordinary men, for he came from along