08-23-2019, 06:41 PM
Debilitated, spent, and dog-tired. Each adjective listed detailed the hound's physical character. His failing senses ofttimes found themselves victim to a sweeping exhaustion, rendering him as a weary bag of flesh and bone for the whole of every individual day. Coupling his current condition with the looming demise awaiting him, that which he was very well aware of, Leroy encountered immense difficulty in brewing up motivation. Following his diagnosis, there just wasn't a point to act on anything anymore. No point in caring, no point in accomplishing stuff. Death's slaying hand rested atop the proxy's creaky shoulder, and a measly short while sat between today and his final dawn. In spite of the grim facts given, however, very little emotional toll had been taken as a result. Selby's slowly-spoken words initially came as a complete and utter shock, of course. Yet, one attained a distinguishing peace of mind when conscious of their oncoming demise. Knowing that you were at death's doorstep was miles better than dying out of the blue. Correspondingly, the cur retained the same dry, caring persona from before; the only noticeable differences about his person was the fatigue, and a lethal growth subtly protruding from just above the waist.
Strolls helped a bunch. A hellish effort was made to garner enough strength and leave home - though once out the door and on the move, halting became a challenge. Being in the wilderness allowed the male to realize life's beauties and flaws, both of which he yearned to take in as much as he could before the inevitable occurred.
On such a stroll was when he came across the wyrm. Towering. Powerful. He reckons the brute's possessed strength had the capability to fend off an enemy battalion - and as second-in-command, the idea of his group having an individual like Draekon in its ranks was beguiling. Amber hues size up the beast and his features, taking notice of an unmistakable lion submerging the reptile in a tidal wave of smooches and snuggles. This nabbed Leroy's attention span away from the joiner for a good minute. The mongrel recalled someone telling him that Wormwood had a Pittian boyfriend. A tiger boyfriend. Not a dragon.
If the facts before him were true, then he could deduce one thing and one thing only. Wormwood was a titanic skank.
"Welcome t' the club, Draekon," the proxy coos, an impressed expression painted across his visage. Then, he points his gaze in Wormwood's way. "I'm hopin' that, err - loverboy here can breathe fire or somethin' like that. He'd be great at barbecues."
Strolls helped a bunch. A hellish effort was made to garner enough strength and leave home - though once out the door and on the move, halting became a challenge. Being in the wilderness allowed the male to realize life's beauties and flaws, both of which he yearned to take in as much as he could before the inevitable occurred.
On such a stroll was when he came across the wyrm. Towering. Powerful. He reckons the brute's possessed strength had the capability to fend off an enemy battalion - and as second-in-command, the idea of his group having an individual like Draekon in its ranks was beguiling. Amber hues size up the beast and his features, taking notice of an unmistakable lion submerging the reptile in a tidal wave of smooches and snuggles. This nabbed Leroy's attention span away from the joiner for a good minute. The mongrel recalled someone telling him that Wormwood had a Pittian boyfriend. A tiger boyfriend. Not a dragon.
If the facts before him were true, then he could deduce one thing and one thing only. Wormwood was a titanic skank.
"Welcome t' the club, Draekon," the proxy coos, an impressed expression painted across his visage. Then, he points his gaze in Wormwood's way. "I'm hopin' that, err - loverboy here can breathe fire or somethin' like that. He'd be great at barbecues."