Erebus stood by the docks, looking out over the water which seemed to bring in Hargeon's booming economy. Not only did it enable Hargeon Town the ripe fishing that only it could really, successfully plunder. But it did so much more, this town was a port city and acted as a necessary trading post and delivery over seas. It was pretty impressive the profit such a small little area could accumulate. The Strategist himself was similar in that aspect, he was acquiring so much without magic in his life. Early in his ventures he had dreamed of obtaining it, then he dreamed of surpassing it. Then he abandoned all care for such a thing entirely when his humanity was stripped and exchanged for something greater. Sure, he was not exactly the best nor the greatest lycan-- how could an omega ever hope to be. However, for what he had become... It demanded respect.
"It's just one of those things I suppose."
The boy was adorned in the Scarle Armor, covered up by robes that hid every inch of his unique and expensive gear. Tucked into the leather broach underneath was the Diadem. Long blond hair fell over his face, messy and unkempt. While the back and sides of his head were shaved like an undercut. His eyes glowed with amber, being one of the werewolvian race, he rarely lacked that defining characteristic. His tall, supernaturally enhanced body due to being lycan, made him stand out above the others passing on the walkway. A marvel amongst puny men.
''I should be working, and yet here I am, admiring things as usual. Ergh.."
Erebus laid a hand on the wooden fence, and bowed his head. He had a look of annoyance and definitely didn't seem fancy on wasting time. Yet ever still, he was. Dusk was already setting in, and the last remainders of an orange sky were resting their eyes. Erebus made an exhale of air so soft, only the ghosts of the netherworld could hear it. Then-- he turned. Preparing to make a leave and exit down the boardwalk.