05-11-2019, 11:47 PM
CHEMICAL WARFARE
Starting over wasn't always a bad thing. That was something Chem had been forced to learn the hard way. He wasn't the sort of guy to ignore the lessons life threw at him though, and since he could never truly be happy just roughing it out on his own, finding a new clan had been the most obvious solution to his problems. Sure, he could take care of himself well enough when it came right down to it. He was a trained soldier who'd served the most powerful of the anticlans back in his old nation. Finding food, shelter, and generally surviving wasn't beyond his means in any sense. The fact remained though that Chemical wasn't really interested in just surviving. He wanted to live, and he was never going to be able to happy if he had to be alone for the rest of his life. Chem was just way to social for that.
It was admittedly hard having to get to know an entire new place that was filled with entirely new clans, but Chem had done a fairly decent job of it. He was a talented fighter, yes, but moreso an even better strategist. Gathering information to exploit to his advantage came naturally to him, and since he was known to adapt to just about anything he didn't see why this should be any different. The clan he'd chosen was known as The Typhoon, an island and sea-faring group of pirates. To be honest he wasn't crazy about the idea of all the water- he'd come from the harsh deserts and jungles where water only came in the form of rain, and oasis, or the occasional waterfall. Here though it spread out endlessly in all directions . The only land there was to see was the strip of earth beneath his feet. His paws were submerged up to the ankles as he made his way down the old railroad tracks with the isle of Paradis looming up before him. The vibrant green of the island was a welcome sight after the endless blue of the sky and ocean, and when his paws finally touched the shifting white sands of the beach he felt much better.
He could scent right away that there was a border here, where two huge slabs of stone rose up. On one were a number of bells and ribbons and on the other a hanging basket. He didn't have much curiosity toward either, and instead laid down and stretched out on the warm sand to wait for a patrol. Someone would no doubt be along soon, and he couldn't wait to see what kind of place this was first hand. If it was anything like the stories then he'd be happy with what he found.
"SPEECH
Starting over wasn't always a bad thing. That was something Chem had been forced to learn the hard way. He wasn't the sort of guy to ignore the lessons life threw at him though, and since he could never truly be happy just roughing it out on his own, finding a new clan had been the most obvious solution to his problems. Sure, he could take care of himself well enough when it came right down to it. He was a trained soldier who'd served the most powerful of the anticlans back in his old nation. Finding food, shelter, and generally surviving wasn't beyond his means in any sense. The fact remained though that Chemical wasn't really interested in just surviving. He wanted to live, and he was never going to be able to happy if he had to be alone for the rest of his life. Chem was just way to social for that.
It was admittedly hard having to get to know an entire new place that was filled with entirely new clans, but Chem had done a fairly decent job of it. He was a talented fighter, yes, but moreso an even better strategist. Gathering information to exploit to his advantage came naturally to him, and since he was known to adapt to just about anything he didn't see why this should be any different. The clan he'd chosen was known as The Typhoon, an island and sea-faring group of pirates. To be honest he wasn't crazy about the idea of all the water- he'd come from the harsh deserts and jungles where water only came in the form of rain, and oasis, or the occasional waterfall. Here though it spread out endlessly in all directions . The only land there was to see was the strip of earth beneath his feet. His paws were submerged up to the ankles as he made his way down the old railroad tracks with the isle of Paradis looming up before him. The vibrant green of the island was a welcome sight after the endless blue of the sky and ocean, and when his paws finally touched the shifting white sands of the beach he felt much better.
He could scent right away that there was a border here, where two huge slabs of stone rose up. On one were a number of bells and ribbons and on the other a hanging basket. He didn't have much curiosity toward either, and instead laid down and stretched out on the warm sand to wait for a patrol. Someone would no doubt be along soon, and he couldn't wait to see what kind of place this was first hand. If it was anything like the stories then he'd be happy with what he found.
"SPEECH
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Fourthwall Fallout - Charcoal/Maroon Brindle Hellhound - 22 Months - The Pitt
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Fourthwall Fallout - Charcoal/Maroon Brindle Hellhound - 22 Months - The Pitt