<strong>Welyn</strong><br/><br/>Another marketday.  And another day of continued unemployment, Welyn thought as he strode brazenly through the streets.  Despite the new warmth, he still wore his full kit.  He was looking for work afterall.  With every other step, the butt of his staff clicked off the cobbled road, the leather linking his cuirass pieces togehter creaking with each step.  They made a counterpoint that the Faun was long used to, having worn and carried both for a few years now.  He listened to the cries of the merchants hawking their wares and the dull clink of his few coins in his flat pouch.  There was enough left to get him through a month, tops.  Then, he'd be completely broke.  Until then, though, there was time to find another job.  Too bad old Makrus'd gotten himself killed, he'd've been a good reference.