//closed starter// @ask-thelycanluka
Draal had long wandered from his lonely cove by the sea, aimlessly moving along, trying to figure out where he was. Nothing here was familiar, save the temperate forests of oak and birch and pine. It seemed to be late into summer, and the nights were cool.
None of this, however, helped poor Draal, who hadn’t come across a single troll in his aimless meandering. Not that he wanted to, of course, but at the very least he could get some information on his location.
It had been late evening when Draal had found the large pond breaking up the monotonous forest. He had his wits again, sure, but a chance for a bath, drinkable water, and perhaps a meal, were there any fish, was tempting enough.
He struggled even so, his once powerful prosthetic nothing more than a banged up and dented mess, barely able to bend at the elbow or twitch at the fingers. It didn’t make things hard when he went down for a drink, and he knew how to manage disrobing with one arm, but it became a struggle as he waded into the water and found all the while that he could not remove the metal piece.
The locking mechanism was jammed, and every attempt to remove it caused pain in his stump. He growled, frustrated, trying again and again, until roaring with anger and sat down in the water, hitting his good fist hard into the mud.
He was tired, hungry, and the phantom pains shooting up and down his arm were insufferable.
He sat there in the water, and he sulked, silently bemoaning the universe for its divine punishment on his weary soul.
