Okay, you know what? This shit fucking sucked. Not the people (well, a little) or the food (well, kind of), but the weather, with its frigid air and cold winds and snow, fucking snow everywhere. The desert was looking pretty pleasant compared to this, and that in itself had been hell, with the seemingly impossible way could sand find its way inside his armor and him. The heat back then had easily reached a level that was damn near oppressive.
Yeah, all that was feeling significantly more welcoming than this.
Because it still wasn’t snow. And snow made sleeping naked impossible. It made most things impossible, really, like being able to feel appendages that he needed to use when swinging a sword and feet that – who knew- came in handy while walking. Tucker was beyond over this.
But hey, at least the celebrations were fun? He wasn’t one to turn down a party, especially one including some well-deserved alcohol; pass him a cup and he was imbibing to an almost impressive level unless stopped. He just wanted the warmth back inside his blood because fuck this cold. And fuck another war he never asked to be in, but still seemed to attract anyway.
What the hell, right? What the hell.
PVP – Either side
Dude, seriously getting a little sick of bullshit wars here. Tucker wasn’t sure how he kept finding them (okay, well, the first one he understood because enlisting was the only way to get away from...you know what? Nevermind, not talking about it.), but after the Freelancer drama, then stuck in the desert, then more Freelancer drama, then the shit with Chorus, he was over it. He needed a vacation. No, better yet, he deserved a vacation.
What he got was another war. Much like with Chorus, filled with people he didn’t know and politics that he probably should have stayed out of. Hell, he wanted to stay out of it; he just wasn’t given much of a choice. It was starting to feel like a running theme. Fuck you, universe; your jokes aren’t funny.
Which was how he stood there now, weapon in hand, looking about as enthused as he could be. At least Chorus wasn’t this goddamn cold, even if it was littered with shitty space pirates and shittier mercs.
“Look, dude, I’m not exactly feeling this whole fight you, fight me, kill you thing. Why don’t we just call it a day so my badass natural skills don’t completely embarrass you, okay? Sound fair?”
Lavernius Tucker | RvB | OTA (Totally late to the party here; hope it's okay?)
Okay, you know what? This shit fucking sucked. Not the people (well, a little) or the food (well, kind of), but the weather, with its frigid air and cold winds and snow, fucking snow everywhere. The desert was looking pretty pleasant compared to this, and that in itself had been hell, with the seemingly impossible way could sand find its way inside his armor and him. The heat back then had easily reached a level that was damn near oppressive.
Yeah, all that was feeling significantly more welcoming than this.
Because it still wasn’t snow. And snow made sleeping naked impossible. It made most things impossible, really, like being able to feel appendages that he needed to use when swinging a sword and feet that – who knew- came in handy while walking. Tucker was beyond over this.
But hey, at least the celebrations were fun? He wasn’t one to turn down a party, especially one including some well-deserved alcohol; pass him a cup and he was imbibing to an almost impressive level unless stopped. He just wanted the warmth back inside his blood because fuck this cold. And fuck another war he never asked to be in, but still seemed to attract anyway.
What the hell, right? What the hell.
PVP – Either side
Dude, seriously getting a little sick of bullshit wars here. Tucker wasn’t sure how he kept finding them (okay, well, the first one he understood because enlisting was the only way to get away from...you know what? Nevermind, not talking about it.), but after the Freelancer drama, then stuck in the desert, then more Freelancer drama, then the shit with Chorus, he was over it. He needed a vacation. No, better yet, he deserved a vacation.
What he got was another war. Much like with Chorus, filled with people he didn’t know and politics that he probably should have stayed out of. Hell, he wanted to stay out of it; he just wasn’t given much of a choice. It was starting to feel like a running theme. Fuck you, universe; your jokes aren’t funny.
Which was how he stood there now, weapon in hand, looking about as enthused as he could be. At least Chorus wasn’t this goddamn cold, even if it was littered with shitty space pirates and shittier mercs.
“Look, dude, I’m not exactly feeling this whole fight you, fight me, kill you thing. Why don’t we just call it a day so my badass natural skills don’t completely embarrass you, okay? Sound fair?”
Wild Card-
[Throw something at him! Let’s see what sticks.]