09-11-2018, 08:07 PM
Shimmering waters reflected off of his rich, chocolate eyes, cerebrations of regret and elation visciously clashed in the wolverine’s head. He just wanted to be happy, and he was, but his exit from Snowbound was snaky, the weight of the fact lingered on his shoulders like a sandbag. At the same time, Wendell exhibited cycles of enjoyment - Sunhaven was a great home, and the people at his previous home had been rid of. It’s just that- the mustelid wished that he could have done more. Once upon a time, he dashed towards this clan, requesting aid and advocacy, to which he got nothing but frowns and bitterness (and some medicinal herbs he could have found on Snowbound’s turf). The grief this event caused him had made Wendell turn to drinking his sorrows away, an action he treated as a crime when done excessively, and never returned home.
That’s how he got here. That was the story of his cowardly ways, and how he could have done better.
And, that’s the end of that chapter. Oh yes, that was only a portion of his story. What, he was supposed to just quit trying after that? Just give up, even though you landed yourself in a fresh land of opportunity. No, that’s not how Wendell ran things. He wasn’t a quitter. He was a wazzock, no doubt, yet he was the best bloody wazzock there was.
Step one in reclaiming glory: get yourself out there, with the people. An easy step, all you had to really do is hang out, maybe have a drink, or two, participate in events, and bingo, you’re on the radar for a happy ending. Wendell ordered some NPCs to spread by word of mouth that he was holding a meet and greet, one with a gimmick. There were the normal rules, you show up, share information, and just walk away. With Wendell’s version, it was required that you bring an item, a thing of any capacity, whether a random coin or a magnificent blade, and trade it with the last person who spoke. Easy enough, right? It worked before, why not now?
Tarrying around a corner in the town, the wolverine would speak cardinally once those attending arrived.
"Hey, people! I’ll do m’ best to keep this simple so I don’t cock up, but welcome to this ‘meet and greet’. I only met a couple of you folk so far, so, without further ado - ‘m Wendell Harrowsmith. I optimistically anticipate that my appearance doesn’t bother you, because it’s what’s on th’ inside that counts. I adore fine nosh and drink, so if anybody wants to get social, I’m there. I’m not in it for revenge, or for glory; I just want to live. So cheers to that, eh?"
Presenting his chosen item, he’d buoyantly continue. ”I, uh, brought this vintage teacup, fine chinaware. Delicate, so be careful.”
That’s how he got here. That was the story of his cowardly ways, and how he could have done better.
And, that’s the end of that chapter. Oh yes, that was only a portion of his story. What, he was supposed to just quit trying after that? Just give up, even though you landed yourself in a fresh land of opportunity. No, that’s not how Wendell ran things. He wasn’t a quitter. He was a wazzock, no doubt, yet he was the best bloody wazzock there was.
Step one in reclaiming glory: get yourself out there, with the people. An easy step, all you had to really do is hang out, maybe have a drink, or two, participate in events, and bingo, you’re on the radar for a happy ending. Wendell ordered some NPCs to spread by word of mouth that he was holding a meet and greet, one with a gimmick. There were the normal rules, you show up, share information, and just walk away. With Wendell’s version, it was required that you bring an item, a thing of any capacity, whether a random coin or a magnificent blade, and trade it with the last person who spoke. Easy enough, right? It worked before, why not now?
Tarrying around a corner in the town, the wolverine would speak cardinally once those attending arrived.
"Hey, people! I’ll do m’ best to keep this simple so I don’t cock up, but welcome to this ‘meet and greet’. I only met a couple of you folk so far, so, without further ado - ‘m Wendell Harrowsmith. I optimistically anticipate that my appearance doesn’t bother you, because it’s what’s on th’ inside that counts. I adore fine nosh and drink, so if anybody wants to get social, I’m there. I’m not in it for revenge, or for glory; I just want to live. So cheers to that, eh?"
Presenting his chosen item, he’d buoyantly continue. ”I, uh, brought this vintage teacup, fine chinaware. Delicate, so be careful.”
