There is a man here, in the midpoint of the Fibonacci ward, not too far from a road leading to some of the suburbs with the two-floor housing. He's tall, bulky, wearing spikes and the scars of close, bladed combat. The expressions he's wearing aren't of someone who's ready for a fight, though. No. The man still has his 'Welcome to Isola' information packet in one hand, his city-distributed cell phone in the other, and he's looking out at the skyline and at the surrounding buildings and businesses - and he is wide-eyed, mystified. This is a warlord, yes, but in this moment he's much more of a fish out of water. He very clearly just got here. He's close to the road to housing because he's had to hoof it from wherever he was assigned to live. He is probably looking to buy a shirt, assuming the lack of one isn't just an aesthetic choice. Even if it was for looks - that choice was clearly made in a completely different context from the one he's currently in. And so, there is a man here, on the sidewalk, slowly plodding along. And he is lost.
@kleinstar
