@shamanickeep
It was a rather dull and grey evening hanging over Ubersreik this day, as clouds swirled and merged endlessly far above, and rain poured down upon the desolate roads and streets of the city-ruins, turning the ground soggy and muddy, and hard to maneuver upon. But that did not stop a small, barely 3-foot tall figure from scampering across the mud-smeared streets of the city, leaving an odd set of footprints behind him. One looked like that of a Skaven’s paw, and the other was oddly... flat, and rectangular.
Skrot whines slightly as he takes cover under a ruined building’s roof, feeling his soaked cloak making him cold and wet, as he uses his one arm to pull it a bit tighter onto him. It might be wet and cold, but it was the only piece of clothing he had to keep him warm. His breath was shaky and erratic, small puffs of vapor constantly puffing out of his maw as he breathes quickly, looking around himself. Where in this ruined city could he turn to? Was anyone here at all? He had to figure out! He had to hope... someone, anyone could take him in!
So he’d take off again into the rainy evening, dashing through the harsh weather and winds, as he ran across the mud-soaked streets and turned to run into what seemed like an empty lot-
*WHACK*
He winced and cried out as he ran into something unseen. Something hard, and wood-like. He fell on his back into the mud, covering his nose which was already bleeding from the impact.
