Once more Jastun Frailthorn found himself hobbling through alleyways while clutching his bloody and bruised body. He’d gotten caught in the crossfire of a war one some world he hadn’t learned the name of, but it involved strange metallic men and these strange short machine like creatures yelling “Annihilate” or something similar. Honestly he had been more concerned with not dying than remembering what the strange entities where shouting as the waged war.
Arm broken, one side bearing several laser holes, and blood leaving a small trail through the alleys. He was a mess if ever there was one. On the bright side he knew that he wasn’t dying, the man had done that enough times that he could tell when something was fatal.
“Sanzava,” He swore, using the favored word from his home, “Can’t heal cause I’m out of apple seeds for food, can’t fight cause of the damn arm, and I’m losing more blood by the second. This day is just going great.” @firesidefox
