As Fury's stride carried him towards the ship, he dropped a little ways into the crater, sensing a living soul within the confines of the ship. He made no effort to call him out, the ship was crippled, he wasn't going anywhere, so the man instead placed himself just outside the entry-way and tapped his foot on the ground, mute. Waiting. Though not for long.

The Fireen’s eyes narrowed as the tall, bulky, humanoid stepped gingerly out into the open air. He was as true as his word, there was an unusual mace tethered to his body, and Fury’s gaze was fixed upon it. His face was marked with a frown as he slowly glanced upwards to regard the creature who had presumably been the pilot of the ship. For a moment, the Fireen looked disappointed with what he saw. Tall, too tall, with hooves rather than ordinary feet and a strangely hairy body. He looked like a satyr, in a way, though the man stood before him knew nothing of Greek mythology and was incapable of making the comparison.

“Who are you?”