I need some cash. Me and a good bunch of people around here. It seems a lot of them were kind of counting on Pete bringing home some money from that job up north on that highway, and sharing it around, but that didn't work out. So things are a little bleak here by now. There's just not a lot going on these days.
And so I hate to do it, but now I've got some work from the Braxon chieftains. Last thing I want to do is to get involved with those crooks, but they do got lots of money.
So I show up at one of their properties where there's some stables I'll be mucking out. One of their managers shows me in and hands me a shovel, and she says the armor is on the hook by the door, laughs and walks off. What the hell does that mean.
They got horses mostly, and I'm working away into the afternoon, and these stalls are really dirty but I guess it's not so bad work. Then I get to the stalls near the end, which look different than the others. That's when I see they got a couple of baby dragons stuffed in there.
That is so beyond stupid, that I can't hardly believe it. But there are are. So I go put on that shiny heat resistant suit she had pointed to. And I feel like some ancient knight, except with a shit-covered snow shovel instead of a sword.
In the last two stalls on the end, there's one full of goblins, and one full of little gnomes. Lord knows why. And they're all so filthy and miserable looking, that I just about quit the job right there. I can't just go along with this. But if I still take the Braxon's money and at least I'm helping make these creatures lives just a tiny bit more bearable, am I doing good?
In the end, I'm not much for moral philophisizing. But I do know I need to eat more often than I have been lately.