Once there lived a higgler, who prized his wealth.  He decided one day to expand his fortune by farming floppies.  Golden Floppy Pelts were quite an exquisite rarity. And rarity is always valuable.

  So it was this higgler raised and bred golden floppies to harvest their pelts and reap the wealth of the fur trade.  It cost quite most of his life's savings, but the higgler soon saw the golden pelts deliver many returns on his investment.

  When some floppies escaped from his pens, as they are wont to do, and neighboring peasants' crops were damaged, a gift of golden stollers and other furs had the demagogry of the town seeing things in favor of the higgler.  When the higgler caught wind of nature worshippers plotting to free his floppy herds, he hired some wily rogues to lay traps around his pens.  The bare-footed nature worshippers retreated with sore and bloody feet.  Even the tax collector was more lenient when presented with a gift of golden fuzzy slippers.  The higgler was quite well off.  His golden meal ticket served him well.

  One day, the higgler was informed by the town guard that there was more trouble brewing.  The higgler merely smirked, and asked how many golden pelts it would take to erase this trouble.  The guard simply told the higgler that it would be best if he packed up and left... fast!  The higgler was not about to abandon his source of wealth and influence.  No problem could be so dire.

  As the townsfolk fled the town past his floppy farm, the higgler began to worry.  Deciding to err on the side of caution, the higgler hired some brave warriors to guard his floppy farm against whatever may come.

  As the town emptied, the higgler tried to gain some insight into what was coming from the fleeing people.  None would speak to him; They merely fled in abject terror.  Surely there was no problem the finest warriors money could buy could not handle... The higgler reassured himself with such thoughts.

  Eventually the floppies in the pens became agitated.  The ground began to shake... The Warriors snapped to attention, readying their weapons.  From between the nearby trees, it came.  An enormous Vorpal Floppy was hopping straight towards the farm, bent on freeing its brethren.

  The warriors engaged the beast, but quickly proved no match for the dark monster.  The higgler instinctively reached for some pelts to pay off the threat.  Perhaps he was driven mad by fear, for offering the hides of the golden floppies did not please the Vorpal beast... at all.

  The townsfolk returned to their town some time later.  The floppy farm was empty, not a floppy in sight.  The bodies of the warriors hired by the higgler were given a decent burial, but the remains of the higgler were never found.  Though, they say that some floppies in the woods were spotted with very unusual leather booties... Flesh-toned leather.

  The loss of the higgler helped this town learn a valuable lesson:

  Wealth cannot solve all one's problems.