"Gah. Taking a blow is never the painful part, its stitching yourself back up after, that's where the actual pain comes in. I swear."

"Could be worse. Bullet went in and out. Could be one of those...High tech things, that explode on impact. What do they call em?"

"Dammit. Those stitches should hold until...Ah, Hel if I know. Talon will have to try harder than that to gut me. Bastards, the lot of em."

"Hmph. Heimskur bastarðar."

"Hmph...All the fancy weapons in the world won't save you when you meet /stríð öxi/. Then justice is done."

"Skítugu hryðjuverkamenn. All of them. After that incident in Oslo I am /convinced/ they cannot be reasoned with."

"That said. I'd rather go to Valhalla knowing I did.../Something/ against that disgusting lot. Preying on the weak? Fucking cowards."

"...Egh. Yeah, that's the alcohol kicking in I reckon, shite."

He removes his helmet, his pale forehead is bloody, he wipes it with a dirty rag. That can't be sanitary. "That was one..Hell of a welcome."

"Don't suppose anyone has painkillers? I've got work to do."

//If anyone wants to interact at all, or just ask anything about this character, shoot me a mention!

"Never fought in the Omnic war personally you know, it was just before my time. Gods, I'd have loved to though."

"But eh, someone has to take the fight to the bad sort nowadays I guess, what with Overwatch proper gone. And I like fightin'..."

"Got myself an axe, just a wood chopper at first, went to the mainland, and joined this...Mercenary group, don't remember their name."

"Got pretty good at fighting, its who I am. So, eh, might as well put it to good use."

"For all I'm complaining 'bout the hole in my damn side...I'm proud of what I am. Not bad for the son of a fisherman, huh?"

"Hmph. Evenin'. Don't suppose anyone here knows anyone good with metal? My Axe broke."

"Fancy guns are all well and good, but ye can't beat an axe. Axes don't jam."

"Fish fer dinner. Again.."

"All it ever is, is fish."