Fanjo Mercytooth
Kreehold: Bounty Hunter
- Character Biography
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Just a day like any other. The rich sauntered by in their winter coats, over their winter coats; the poor clutched their rags against the wind's bite, haranguing who they may before the Fogeys scared them back to the Slups. Those who found themselves in between dashed about on errands, the threat of poverty and their superiors' power nipping at their heels.
A fascinating cuckoo clock, a badly oiled machine watched by the beasts who shaped it to their advantage. Patience was the quiet and steady stairway to power. Patience was the bellyfiller.
Fanjo was not fond of anonymous jobs. They had the potential to bring trouble regardless of how little blame he could shoulder as a beast doing as he was paid to. When people couldn't find their real enemy, it was easy enough to take it out on the weapon. But the money had been good. He didn't care why his client wanted this fox, why they wanted him bringing to a particular place, what they even wanted to do with him. It wasn't his problem.
The Kreehold hunter had scoped out his prey for the past few days, observing what routines he could glimpse outside of the ministry. They were important to a higher-up, he had gleaned that much. A risky quarry. He would have to rely on the protection of the captain and the Minister of Commerce that his service was legitimate, however much that might keep him from retribution. But the money had been good.
When Ronan stepped out of the Missertross Poste Office on one of his usual errands, a sack went over his head and a rope bound his arms to his sides.
"'Pologies, Mr Eirlys. Slight adjustment to your schedule this evenin'."
@Ronan Eirlys
A fascinating cuckoo clock, a badly oiled machine watched by the beasts who shaped it to their advantage. Patience was the quiet and steady stairway to power. Patience was the bellyfiller.
Fanjo was not fond of anonymous jobs. They had the potential to bring trouble regardless of how little blame he could shoulder as a beast doing as he was paid to. When people couldn't find their real enemy, it was easy enough to take it out on the weapon. But the money had been good. He didn't care why his client wanted this fox, why they wanted him bringing to a particular place, what they even wanted to do with him. It wasn't his problem.
The Kreehold hunter had scoped out his prey for the past few days, observing what routines he could glimpse outside of the ministry. They were important to a higher-up, he had gleaned that much. A risky quarry. He would have to rely on the protection of the captain and the Minister of Commerce that his service was legitimate, however much that might keep him from retribution. But the money had been good.
When Ronan stepped out of the Missertross Poste Office on one of his usual errands, a sack went over his head and a rope bound his arms to his sides.
"'Pologies, Mr Eirlys. Slight adjustment to your schedule this evenin'."
@Ronan Eirlys
