That one day, Age may actually take him long before a Hunt Does.

Wouldn't that be funny?

"It's a Miracle I'm even alive at this point. A massive miracle. . ."

"It Will." He softly rumbled out, mandibles lightly tapping together as he looked away. . .

"It has." He added after a moment, gaze lingering down on his hand, digits slowly curling in and out.

The joints ached faintly.

Every wrinkle and scar a story. Every pang of pain a reminder-

"It most likely will, happen again. Forgive me." He softly said.

Have, truly. But petty vengeance against an abomination had taken root sooner than sense.

"It hasn't hurt since the day I got it. And that was many, many ages ago. My duty to my Clan, King, and Matriarch held me from coming here as soon as possible... it. . ." He trailed off. . .

"It was an Outbreak on their little dirtball. One that had claimed someone close to me. . . And it was years ago, I was not expecting to return from it." He calmly responded, head cocking down with a small click and wince as she brushed the sensitive area.

He should have come sooner. He should-

Before sighing and tracing it to his back, the entrance wound at the back was far rougher. . .

"I was knocked down from a high vantage point in an Ooman Facility, impaled upon metal debris below. . ."

The Cleaner grunted softly, stepping closer and slowly removing his hand to reveal a small, triangular scar that marked his hip, the small speckling of staple scars around its edges showing its battle medical origin.

"A previous hunt's wound has begun to act up recently. . ." He trailed off-

Its ok! I wasnt being negative or anything, if dont mind the ideas lol.

Just wanted to point that out)

Sadly those are like. Existing characters.

Paya is also, their god. So that one's off the table for obvious reasons lol)

He sounded. . .

. . .

Old. His voice was gravely and slightly scratchy, as if he were parched for water. But he never was. . .

Serpent's Blood did horrid things to one's water retention.

"I. . . Require your experience. " he finally admitted.

Out loud. . .

". . ." An awkward silence followed, his Half Blind gaze flickering down to them, before closing as he gently tapped his remaining mandibles together.

. . .

A soft, deep chuff and cough left his throat.

"Forgive me. Healer." His softer, rougher voice finally spoke out.

Mechanical systems. Highlighting the Strange machine in a vague light blue...

His head cocked slowly. Silently waiting.

Lenses finally meeting...

. . . It.

Ah. . . That's why he didn't smell anything.

The Thinking Machines. Created by the Flotilla Merchants and Mechanics.

The Wolf examined the Geth slowly, Lenses flashing Yellow, Red, Green, and finally Blue.

The visions cycling slowly till reaching the-

. . .

25 minutes should do. A ship of this size required an early head start due to its blast radius.

Once the beeping began, he rose slowly, turning and stepping into the Dimly Lit, Misty halls of the ship, hand raising to push away torn wires and cables that hung low from the ceiling,

Sharp inhales. . . No scent.

. . .

Something not organic, or hiding its scent then.

Wolf clicked its tongue, hand dropping to trace the Fallen Hunter's Bracer, tapping and bypassing the biometrics to activate the self-destruct of not only the Warrior, but also the Ship's barely living reactor.

Crashing.

. . .

An asteroid.

That's all it took. One unaccounted-for rock, striking an engine.

One strike, sending a marvel of technology into a death spiral.

The Cleaner hissed and clicked softly behind his mask, the clank of footsteps entering the ship alerting him.

Cargo hold (going by the melted scorching and slag, a recent change). A figure continued their work.

Talons slowly traced the fallen hunter's Mask, tenderly leaving it in place.

No serpents had escaped this time. Luckily. The Hunting Party had made certain to burn their eggs and specimens before-