03-20-2018, 10:41 PM
This was a polar opposite climate from what he was used to, but he was starting to get adjusted to it as the days roamed by. It had been a bit since the muscular feline settled in, recruiting himself as another shipmate of the Typhoon. He was used to bitter cold, and he thought that perhaps Snowbound would've sufficed.
So what the hell happened?
Iosef was attracted to the Typhoon from the very beginning. The thrill of doing as you pleased, dominating the other groups with superior strength and strategies of war, living life on the edge and to the fullest. Of course, he was willing to weigh his other options, so he did the necessary research on the other groups as well. Climate-wise, he could handle Snowbound, but the pale Siberian tiger figured that he would have a very difficult time inhabiting a domain with creatures that didn't bear a similar mindset. It'd be a struggle to cooperate and work as one unit, as these "Clans" were meant to function, and he'd likely be bored of all the freaks or the goody two-shoes waltzing all around him. He needed a different kind of passion, something the denizens of the Typhoon had much to offer. And so he remained.
The hulking feline gnawed subconsciously at the empty shell of whatever creature once claimed it, staring out at the rolling tides just beyond the vibrant green rainforests. In this plentiful domain, he had to pull his weight somehow. Iosef knew that he ought to enlist himself in one of the guilds, find a specialization that would suit him. But what? He knew that he wasn't fit to be a medic, bearing little interest in studying medicine, so the Necro Mambas were out of the question. As for the Typhoon Tyrants and Blackjack Rats, he was split. On one hand, he had the sufficient capability of a warrior to primarily serve as one, and on the other hand he bore a slight interest in the politics of this young, fresh realm. These were new groups, just forming. He had a chance to leave his mark.
Maybe he could even claim this land for himself. But he knew that was an impossibility for the time being.
Pondering his situation once more, the crewmate released a soft huff and stared onward at the picturesque horizon. In any case, he would have to open himself up to the other members of the Typhoon, forge a few acquaintanceships. It would be quite beneficial in the long run.
So what the hell happened?
Iosef was attracted to the Typhoon from the very beginning. The thrill of doing as you pleased, dominating the other groups with superior strength and strategies of war, living life on the edge and to the fullest. Of course, he was willing to weigh his other options, so he did the necessary research on the other groups as well. Climate-wise, he could handle Snowbound, but the pale Siberian tiger figured that he would have a very difficult time inhabiting a domain with creatures that didn't bear a similar mindset. It'd be a struggle to cooperate and work as one unit, as these "Clans" were meant to function, and he'd likely be bored of all the freaks or the goody two-shoes waltzing all around him. He needed a different kind of passion, something the denizens of the Typhoon had much to offer. And so he remained.
The hulking feline gnawed subconsciously at the empty shell of whatever creature once claimed it, staring out at the rolling tides just beyond the vibrant green rainforests. In this plentiful domain, he had to pull his weight somehow. Iosef knew that he ought to enlist himself in one of the guilds, find a specialization that would suit him. But what? He knew that he wasn't fit to be a medic, bearing little interest in studying medicine, so the Necro Mambas were out of the question. As for the Typhoon Tyrants and Blackjack Rats, he was split. On one hand, he had the sufficient capability of a warrior to primarily serve as one, and on the other hand he bore a slight interest in the politics of this young, fresh realm. These were new groups, just forming. He had a chance to leave his mark.
Maybe he could even claim this land for himself. But he knew that was an impossibility for the time being.
Pondering his situation once more, the crewmate released a soft huff and stared onward at the picturesque horizon. In any case, he would have to open himself up to the other members of the Typhoon, forge a few acquaintanceships. It would be quite beneficial in the long run.
tags :: updated 3/19:
haha rip these goofs