Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28718853-20181125222027/@comment-30014014-20190222165455

Mordekai has a knee on the gravel floor, his bag at his side. His ear is present to listen to the conversation not far, though, most of his attention is centered around a few junks he had found amidst their runway.

His hands firstly compell him to wrap the dull side of the newly acquired quill, with them following up on a sharp tool to carve the name of the fallen "Great...another reminder of how south this entire endeavor went..." The quill dropped from the spirited man now bear his name, intended now for the same species that the pyrotechnician had witnessed kidnapping him.

With that done, more important work was a due for him. It was likely to be a while before the rest came about. And so, he thought to use this time to craft supplies from the junk he picked up. Another explosive. This one, more potent than the ones he carries. A name etched upon them, alongside other names. Names branded in legacy of his buddies, all assumed to be dead, on the more potent of his arsenal...