05-27-2015, 12:40 PM
Tartaros trudged through the darkness of the forest, angrily swatting aside branch after branch with the sharpened and bloodied chunk of driftwood crudely strapped to the half-cauterized remains of his right arm. The pain really didn't bother him anymore... anger makes a great distraction, after all...
"That fight was a damned embarrassment...", the marine thought to himself, How in the hell they notice me?!, but it didn't matter now... only one thing really did at this point, not dying, and Tartaros would be damned before he keeled over to some three-foot child with a fancy chunk of metal.
After another few hours of marching in the twilight the marine finally came across a small cave, well, more of a dirt hovel, sheltered by a toppled tree trunk. Finding a useful shelter for what was left for of the night, the marine crawled into the squalid dwelling.
It was dark and damp, far to damp to even attempt making a fire, but at the very least it was something... Finally crawling his way onto the cold stone floor, however, a ruffling inside his bag was heard... then a whisper...
Hello dearie
The hairs on the Luna Wolf's neck stood up as he turned to his left, seeing a pile of much and some... grayish, tiny thing crawling on the floor...
"Hrm?"
The small figure crawled closer along the dampened floor, finally coming into proper view as... a muddy piece of fabric. Surely Tartaros was going hallucinating or something...
"Well, now I got your attention, guess what?! Those Syntex guys stuck you with me, you lucky duck you..."
"You're... that sock?..., the marine muttered, stunned at the sight of a talking chunk of cotton.
"Right. On. The. Money! Mister Tureaud Sockpuppet, at your service!, the "sock" made a mocking bow, at least as far as a piece of fabric can. "Now then, you've got yourself in right a pickle, haven't you? Getting your ass handed to you by such a fool and his... little friends...", the being said in a mocking tone.
"S-Silence...", Tartaros said, in a slight wavering tone.
"Ah... I see they wounded your pride far more than your arm, eh?"
With that, the marine smacked the driftwood plank against the sock, causing a small piece to splinter back onto his ceramite plating.
"Ha... Mister, don't even bother, it's not like you can harm me... Anyways, get yourself some rest, Mister Handy, you're going to need it..."
Sighing deeply in disbelief and tiredness, the Luna Wolf propped his damaged arm against the stone floor and rested against his head against the muddied wall, while the strip of fabric crawled back into the bag, both resting for the long days to come.
"That fight was a damned embarrassment...", the marine thought to himself, How in the hell they notice me?!, but it didn't matter now... only one thing really did at this point, not dying, and Tartaros would be damned before he keeled over to some three-foot child with a fancy chunk of metal.
After another few hours of marching in the twilight the marine finally came across a small cave, well, more of a dirt hovel, sheltered by a toppled tree trunk. Finding a useful shelter for what was left for of the night, the marine crawled into the squalid dwelling.
It was dark and damp, far to damp to even attempt making a fire, but at the very least it was something... Finally crawling his way onto the cold stone floor, however, a ruffling inside his bag was heard... then a whisper...
Hello dearie
The hairs on the Luna Wolf's neck stood up as he turned to his left, seeing a pile of much and some... grayish, tiny thing crawling on the floor...
"Hrm?"
The small figure crawled closer along the dampened floor, finally coming into proper view as... a muddy piece of fabric. Surely Tartaros was going hallucinating or something...
"Well, now I got your attention, guess what?! Those Syntex guys stuck you with me, you lucky duck you..."
"You're... that sock?..., the marine muttered, stunned at the sight of a talking chunk of cotton.
"Right. On. The. Money! Mister Tureaud Sockpuppet, at your service!, the "sock" made a mocking bow, at least as far as a piece of fabric can. "Now then, you've got yourself in right a pickle, haven't you? Getting your ass handed to you by such a fool and his... little friends...", the being said in a mocking tone.
"S-Silence...", Tartaros said, in a slight wavering tone.
"Ah... I see they wounded your pride far more than your arm, eh?"
With that, the marine smacked the driftwood plank against the sock, causing a small piece to splinter back onto his ceramite plating.
"Ha... Mister, don't even bother, it's not like you can harm me... Anyways, get yourself some rest, Mister Handy, you're going to need it..."
Sighing deeply in disbelief and tiredness, the Luna Wolf propped his damaged arm against the stone floor and rested against his head against the muddied wall, while the strip of fabric crawled back into the bag, both resting for the long days to come.