Seeking employment (OPEN TO ALL!!!)

[Fallo Swordsferret]

Trawling for a new employer in a foreign realm was never as simple as it seemed, on the contrary it proved too difficult for some of the less-experienced swindlers and silver-tongued vermin who took up lodgings here. Even the ruthless corsair Fallomous A. Staggertail was having less-than-ideal luck in his attempts at swaying those whose pockets bulged with gold coinage and other material wealth to part with it in return for his meager services. Without a reputation to precede him, nor a single beast to vouch for his feats, Fallo’s prognosis as a swashbuckling villain in these parts seemed grim.

After having been evicted from the last tavern he poked his scruffy head by the bartender for his efforts, he sought out a place known to the other inebriated folk simply as the mercenary’s den, which by hear-say has he been snuffling about the woods for the last hour or so. The twilight moon shone high in the inky blanket of the sty, every glittering star seemed to dance to its own beat in a heavenly display of cultured bliss. Though Fallo scantly paid this celestial cabaret any mind, lost in the deep mania of his tireless search was he indeed, and his parched tongue and dry mouth bred within it an evil taste that made him grimace at the thought of the vile scent it would unleash were he to open his mouth.

The trees were still in the cool night air, and not a sound but the harsh clunking of his ill-kempt boots against the rare rock and passing encounters with a few bushes here and there. The high-pitched chirping of insects reached his ears, and he figured that since he was helplessly lost in an unfamiliar wood, that he may as well join the chorus. He whistled brokenly, his attempt was not aided by his dry lips, chapped raw by his constant rubbing to stave off his growing thirst. His mind was largely wrapped around his terrible fortune. Why was it that he had chosen to obey the whims of those two tittering stoats to stray off the path?

“I should have known better than to have trusted a couple of good for nothing pipe-cleaning yellow-bellied bee stung stoats…”

He internally ranted, the thoughts reverberating in his headspace in cadence with his lilting ditty echoed faintly in the woods. His foot paws gradually numbed and his limbs gained a leaden quality to them, and he felt the strong urge to simple give his weary body a rest. A clearing up ahead looked to be an ideal spot, almost similar to that described in that one script by Chaucer he read.

The little meadow was bathed in the light of lovely Luna, meshing with the natural evergreen hue of the flora proved a tantalizing feast for the eyes, with a garnish of moonlight. He made an effort to increase his lethargic pace.