[ Fighting was cathartic. Fictional? He could deal with that--he was a legend, a myth. Minimal powers? Been there, done that. But he had the unshakeable feeling that he was being punished for something. Why else would he be unable to lift his hammer?
The fact that he seemed to be in this unnamed realm with nothing but monsters and messages from an unknown source. He thought himself to be the lone, sentient being. It had been days, and he'd seen no others.
He stood in a field, knocking down the last remaining survivors of the most recent wave. He growled in rage as he seized one, smashing its head into that of another, killing them both.
Given the level of grime, blood and dirt on his armor and hands, and the overall state of him, he had been at this for quite some time. Hours, at the very least. ]
no subject
The fact that he seemed to be in this unnamed realm with nothing but monsters and messages from an unknown source. He thought himself to be the lone, sentient being. It had been days, and he'd seen no others.
He stood in a field, knocking down the last remaining survivors of the most recent wave. He growled in rage as he seized one, smashing its head into that of another, killing them both.
Given the level of grime, blood and dirt on his armor and hands, and the overall state of him, he had been at this for quite some time. Hours, at the very least. ]