It was hard, and life sucked, and nobody ever understood. Fritz was forced into a different, slower pace of life, one that made the simplest things a struggle, at times. With his long, ungainly tail, his massively-inconvenient fins, the barely-tameable mess of hair on his head, not to mention his elegantly-shaped, if ungainly and awkward hoof-tipped hands, everything about him was overworked, overwrought, and frankly sort of unecessary. Finding work had been difficult at first, until he'd realized he could use his unique combination of attributes as a matter of attraction. A few talks with the right people, and he'd been offered a job at a seedy dive... and a little more experience had him working his way up to a good job at a reputable establishment with the funds for things like a performance pool under a viewing balcony.
Fritz had to admit that in many ways, he had it pretty good. He was clothed, fed, sheltered, had a good job (provided people didn't judge) he could see and hear and locomote without issue– nothing really held him back in life in any substantial way, it just upped the challenge rating. Now that he worked in the entertainment business, well, the young man had no need for further education, and most of the material things in life that he could imagine wanting in life were achievable, with a little budgeting and some careful corner-cutting. What he had, though, was a terrible boredom that he couldn't seem to shake. No matter if he was dancing the poles, shimmying his way through a dance pool, or even drinking with friends, everything seemed so... surface. So vapid, so shallow.
It had taken a good, long look at one of the Hallowed that had come to watch him dance to start to put things together... and a day off spent at a public beach had fomented the mutated hybrid's thoughts.
Kids... they sure were a way to stave off ennui, weren't they? Maybe if he didn't feel so singular... so... alone in the world... maybe then he'd finally find that feeling of purpose and fulfilment that he'd been searching for his entire life. Now, the sorts of stones he was looking for– no, not even just that– the sorts of places that would give him a stone without judgment, nor warnings, nor counselling, nor scorn....
He'd need to talk to one of his coworkers, and get in touch with a black market contact. But hell, that just made things more worthwhile, didn't it? How could you ever really, truly know if things in life were worth fighting for if you never had to? How worthy were things if you wouldn't fight for them? One thing was certain in Fritz's life, for once. Here was a notion worth fighting for– and fight for it, he would, with every fibre of his being. Now, just to find the sorts of people who would want to go along on this adventure with him... and who he'd be interested in letting him. He knew exactly the paper to post the ad in, knew roughly what the cost would be. He settled into his chair, starting to type up an ad, mindful of exactly the sort of people he was looking for.
