Yaruzaru
Feral tendencies, cuddle at your own risk
Yet again he found himself falling back to town empty handed, his traps wasted due to would-be mercenaries who simply couldn't understand the value of attempting to keep one of the "abominations" as they called them, alive. It was becoming increasingly apparent that the only people who agreed with his methods, were those who lacked the sanity required for him to hold a stable conversation on the matter. The food was questionable back home from what he could remember but everyone there was as enthusiastic about magic as he was, as a mild way of putting it. He dared not return to that hollow in the ground though, all he could do was help to repair the damage that the town he now lived in, had suffered from during previous attacks.
His abilities were uniquely suited to such a trivial role, but there was payment in the form of materials, food and information for his work. He figured he'd have to head out again soon though, there was no way he was going to consign himself to the life of a construction worker, the thought making him almost miss the unnerving scent of fanatical worshippers that populated the Enclave. He did wonder how they were doing though, or what they were doing without him for that matter. As twisted as they were, they were the first semblance of a family he had come across during his time in hiding. He could vividly imagine them begging for him to return, so that they could continue to bring him more dead and diseased offerings, truly sweet memories.
For now he stays by the entrance to town until he can resume work in the morning, idly keeping watch due to his uncanny ability to ignore the necessities of sleep. A lifestyle he learnt to adapt to while living underground.
His abilities were uniquely suited to such a trivial role, but there was payment in the form of materials, food and information for his work. He figured he'd have to head out again soon though, there was no way he was going to consign himself to the life of a construction worker, the thought making him almost miss the unnerving scent of fanatical worshippers that populated the Enclave. He did wonder how they were doing though, or what they were doing without him for that matter. As twisted as they were, they were the first semblance of a family he had come across during his time in hiding. He could vividly imagine them begging for him to return, so that they could continue to bring him more dead and diseased offerings, truly sweet memories.
For now he stays by the entrance to town until he can resume work in the morning, idly keeping watch due to his uncanny ability to ignore the necessities of sleep. A lifestyle he learnt to adapt to while living underground.