crash landing. [He woke up like he had so many times with the distinct, but familiar, feeling that his body had taken some kind of massive damage. His clothing and bits of debris around him only reinforced the distant echo of injuries. As usual, he was completely uninjured, not a scratch, not a bruise, nothing.
This place didn't smell at all familiar and that, more than anything else, had him immediately on edge. The people around him, other survivors it looked like, were people he'd never met before. He knew that with complete certainty.
Gracefully, he got to his feet and took a moment to brush sand off his somewhat tattered pants and shirt and then run a hand through his hair.
Time to figure out what the hell was going on.]
battle+temple. [Daken was good in a fight. Very good. In fact, most days he wondered if it was the only thing he was good at. Killing was in his DNA and these creatures felt familiar. His memory was spotty, but he knew they were somewhat responsible for... everything. And now they'd shown up to finish the job. He was prepared to make that as difficult as he could for them.
Unfortunately, not everyone is quite so good and he can't help but sigh as he came across yet another injured fighter, or maybe just an unlucky civilian. They're unconscious, but he can hear a pulse and there's a lull in the fighting. It might also benefit him to endear himself to the locals, so he throws the man over his shoulder and heads to the temple, which seems to be the central place of refuge within the city.]
Medic! [At first, quick glance he doesn't look so great himself. Some of the blood is his own, most isn't, but a closer inspection will reveal no injuries. The man he's rescued, however, will need some attention, but doesn't look critical.]
network/daemon shenanigans. List your available commands again. Can't I make you not speak unless spoken to? [Daken grumbled at his daemon, a wolverine named IRONYD. He hated it. Everything about it was basically there to mock him. He was sure of it.] Don't look at me like that either. If I want your opinion or your judgments I'll ask you for it.
DAEMON: IRONYD I want your opinions.
[He glances down when the notification pops up.] ... What message? I didn't tell you to send any message. [He inhales deeply and sighs, muttering under his breath.] You're the worst.
Daken | Marvel Comics 616
[He woke up like he had so many times with the distinct, but familiar, feeling that his body had taken some kind of massive damage. His clothing and bits of debris around him only reinforced the distant echo of injuries. As usual, he was completely uninjured, not a scratch, not a bruise, nothing.
This place didn't smell at all familiar and that, more than anything else, had him immediately on edge. The people around him, other survivors it looked like, were people he'd never met before. He knew that with complete certainty.
Gracefully, he got to his feet and took a moment to brush sand off his somewhat tattered pants and shirt and then run a hand through his hair.
Time to figure out what the hell was going on.]
battle+temple.
[Daken was good in a fight. Very good. In fact, most days he wondered if it was the only thing he was good at. Killing was in his DNA and these creatures felt familiar. His memory was spotty, but he knew they were somewhat responsible for... everything. And now they'd shown up to finish the job. He was prepared to make that as difficult as he could for them.
Unfortunately, not everyone is quite so good and he can't help but sigh as he came across yet another injured fighter, or maybe just an unlucky civilian. They're unconscious, but he can hear a pulse and there's a lull in the fighting. It might also benefit him to endear himself to the locals, so he throws the man over his shoulder and heads to the temple, which seems to be the central place of refuge within the city.]
Medic! [At first, quick glance he doesn't look so great himself. Some of the blood is his own, most isn't, but a closer inspection will reveal no injuries. The man he's rescued, however, will need some attention, but doesn't look critical.]
network/daemon shenanigans.
List your available commands again. Can't I make you not speak unless spoken to? [Daken grumbled at his daemon, a wolverine named IRONYD. He hated it. Everything about it was basically there to mock him. He was sure of it.] Don't look at me like that either. If I want your opinion or your judgments I'll ask you for it.
DAEMON: IRONYD
I want your opinions.
[He glances down when the notification pops up.] ... What message? I didn't tell you to send any message. [He inhales deeply and sighs, muttering under his breath.] You're the worst.