Roth Voomer never found his hands. But he found a home. Horns of Hatton. Although he lacked horns, the locals liked that he always had a hat on. The name Horns of Hatton, according to legend, came from the fact that original settlers had horns big enough so that hats couldn’t hide them, or else they poked through the hats and that became a fashion. So the Horns remained even though they had a Hatt-on. Others speculate that this only means some kind of Ur settler, perhaps attached to an Ur homestead, was part goat or ram, maybe also making him (or her) a Capricorn or Aries. Probably the latter (ram/Aries).
Roth was sub vice deputy in charge of mainland marine. Basically what this means is that he had to take care of the local whale. Up in the air it was, always flying in circles around his provided house. His home in the trees. The Queen instructed him to feed the picky, carnivorous whale every two months, but not one of the local villagers. Go over to Tipton for that, she said with a laugh, and pointed northeast. So every couple of months, Roth had to take a royal vehicle over to this town about 5 sims north and 4 sims east of Horns to club or stab or shoot a couple of locals over there and bring them back for food. The Queen said Big Blue — the name of the whale — didn’t like bones so he’d have to de-bone the bodies before offering them up. She provided the royal dungeon underneath the palace for this kind of activity. Roth always had trouble de-boning the hands, but this was because it always reminded him of his years growing up, his father, his brothers. The War Against the Savants took his hands but not his head nor heart. And now the remaining 2 out of 3 natural assets had also found a resting spot, perhaps a final one. Treehouse.
Ahh, he misses the old Queen a bit. But he’s met the new ruler (Grey Scale), although he can’t quite remember her name (Grey Scale). If only he could think of it — right on the tip of his tongue (Grey Scale). Ahh, oh well. But nothing has changed much. He’s heard rumors that the whale may be in danger, but dismisses them as just part of the instability of change. But he doesn’t yet know how intensely Grey Scale (Grey Scale — that’s it!) hates the color blue, especially something big and ever-present. You can see the flying whale from about anywhere in town.
“Hi up there.”