A Land of Opportunity (Open for 1)

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A cool, Autumn wind blew through the town of Grassveil. The scents of crisp Fall were in the air, and the surrounding forests were like an explosion of orange, red, and yellow colors. The little village was largely quiet. Only a few Pokemon were actually out and about, and the place had a quiet, sleepy feel to it that was almost relaxing. The padded, dirt streets were largely clear and the buildings stood as flanking structures to the road.

Calculative, reptilian eyes of a rich amber color took the scene in with a measure of contempt and exasperation.

A newcomer had come to town. He didn't stand very impressively compared to the more evolved inhabitants, and was only about 2 feet tall. With a slender body layered with fine scales of a bright lime accentuated with golden stripes, he revealed himself to be a snivy. The fanned leaf on the end of his tail, the stubby arms and legs, and the haughty way he held up his head only clarified this.

He seemed to be taking note of the place as he slowly made his way through town, elliptical eyes scanning the surroundings. For whatever reason, he seemed displeased. His reserved, irritated expressions spoke of this. Despite this, he carried himself with a sense of dignity. Regardless of his small size, the male snivy seemed to have a presence that spoke bigger than what one could normally see. In fact, he radiated it, displaying it with the way he carried himself. The few pokemon who took note of him and who were still on the streets gave him a wide berth as they went about their business.

Every now and then he would stop at a stall or shop, glancing over prices and what was listed for sale. Other times he would survey help wanted posters, or check out points of interest like the local inns and rent homes. Taking note of the homely, humble places and the monthly rent, he would gawk, frown, and then move on. He was obviously agitated from what he saw.

He muttered under his breath, a clear, precise voice layered with intensity. "Miserable peasant town… Where do I even begin with this place?…"

Jeremy watched the zorua go, letting out a heated exhale. The memories and visions of glory and prestige whispered in his mind and he desperately wanted to grasp at them. Let it be known… One day he would have the throne, and never again would he be in this situation. Let the fools gloat their hallow, pointless victories. He would win the war, the one that mattered, and if they wanted to underestimate him and spit on his name… So be it. He would be ready… And he would look down at them from the base of his feet.