Fargo the Horde Beast

Fargo finally gets a job...as a horde beast

Marek is sitting in the room, eating some scones

If there one thing Fargo can say for the occupation it has helped his diet. Between the anxiety and the inability to gluttonize at every turn, plus running odd jobs around the abbey the weasel has slimmed down. He only looks merely obese these days. The grey furred pot bellied beast comes out of the kitchen carrying a plate of scones. He has yet to see Marek yet.

Marek looks up "You have scones...did you ask or are they trying to fatten you up? Cant think of one whom would do that, well maybe my monitor"

Fargo makes a terrified dook sound as he is addressed. His fur stands ridged and the plat goes flying. Nervous beast, sending the scones splattering into several beasts around him, even a few towards Marek. "Oh! I am so sorry mr...." The weasel goes pale at regonition of the beast. "Oh light! I am so sorry! Please don't feed me to the monitor lizard!" Fargo falls to his knees and grovels, whining very loudly.

Marek frowns as he gets covered in scones and nods to a novice to clean the mess, which they start to do and walks over to Fargo, "Ok..why should you not die?" His sword stays at his side for now.

The weasel feels his heart race. Images flash to his bandit days flash through his mind. The threat of being hurt, or killed by the bandit leader or his allies. "Please forgive me sir! I didn't mean too!" He gulps, eyes shifting about thinking of some way out of this. It looks like Fargo is on his own this time. "I...I can work! I'm a pretty handy beast to keep around!"

Marek lays a paw on his sword and then arches an eyebrow "Work?..Skills" He says simplyly and waits for a response, a couple of the horde beast watch, one chuckles as they seem to bet on how long till Fargo dies or doesnt die.

Fargo whimpers but holds in his fear long enough to spout out, "I've done everything. Lifting stuff, being a merchant, I was a fence for a bandit leader one time...I was even a bandit once!" The weasel lists off each item like a resume. Although in this interview failure is not an option

Marek nods "Maybe, you can pledge loyalty to my horde"

The weasel nervously drums his paws together, if he says no then he has no doubt that he will either die here on the spot or be fattened up for dinner for the second in command. Both not promising prospects. "You...want me to join the horde? That is tempting... W-what kind of health benefits does it have?"

Marek narrows his eyes and then smiles slowly "Oh a very nice one, you get to live"

The weasel shuts his eyes, "Oh please make it quick. I'm not one for pain. J-just don't let the lizard eat me after you kill me and..." he opens one eye, "Wait...what? I...I am not going to die?"

Marek says, "You live as long as joining my horde"

The weasel stammers, "I...ee...whoa..." he slumps forward in faint. Fargo never was one for dramatics.

Marek arches an eyebrow and shakes his head, he stops an otter who backs off, "No..pick him up and lay him..somewhere, oh foprget it" He calls over a fox"Take him to a softer place and make sure he wakes up early to work"