02-16-2020, 01:16 AM
Why anybody would establish a homestead outside of the town was beyond the general. Enjoying one's privacy is one thing, but completely isolating yourself from the only civilization that existed within the surrounding fifty kilometres was simply an act of idiocy. The town acted as a beacon of activity and livelihood; beyond its domain, the choices one had for entertainment were slim, if not barren. The town possessed a library, where the initiated could go to flip some pages to pass the time, as well as a tavern, which beckoned the thirsty and famished to come on in and grab a seat.
Leroy lived in the town - within the modest confines of the Roux family home, to be concise. Despite the building housing a leader, the individual of the highest status available, in no light was it grandiose. He enjoyed it, though, for its smaller size coerced its inhabitants to inevitably be closer. Which was another reason why he couldn't fathom the idea of living outside of the town; being away from people would drive him utterly bananas.
There is a stranger in the library. He does not recognize her, yet she evidently knew her way around, meaning that she couldn't possibly be entirely new to these parts. Regardless, he does not recognize the arachnid, and to be totally candid, he almost doesn't want to. Spiders freaked him out. The first time his line of vision fell upon Abathur, the wolfhound nearly had a heart attack. Eight legs were far too many. Why couldn't four of them be chopped off with an axe? At the same time, he forces himself to approach the female, for it was the responsible thing to do as a leader. Getting to know your underlings was a move that only benefited.
"How's it goin'?" the canine inquires, haphazardly approaching the creepy crawly. "I don't recall seein' you 'round here. What's your name?" 'She, however,' he thinks, 'has probably seen me. I mean, look at how many eyes she's got.'
Leroy lived in the town - within the modest confines of the Roux family home, to be concise. Despite the building housing a leader, the individual of the highest status available, in no light was it grandiose. He enjoyed it, though, for its smaller size coerced its inhabitants to inevitably be closer. Which was another reason why he couldn't fathom the idea of living outside of the town; being away from people would drive him utterly bananas.
There is a stranger in the library. He does not recognize her, yet she evidently knew her way around, meaning that she couldn't possibly be entirely new to these parts. Regardless, he does not recognize the arachnid, and to be totally candid, he almost doesn't want to. Spiders freaked him out. The first time his line of vision fell upon Abathur, the wolfhound nearly had a heart attack. Eight legs were far too many. Why couldn't four of them be chopped off with an axe? At the same time, he forces himself to approach the female, for it was the responsible thing to do as a leader. Getting to know your underlings was a move that only benefited.
"How's it goin'?" the canine inquires, haphazardly approaching the creepy crawly. "I don't recall seein' you 'round here. What's your name?" 'She, however,' he thinks, 'has probably seen me. I mean, look at how many eyes she's got.'