The only indication that Fury was even listening as the man tried to answer his question was a slight furrowing of his brow. In truth, the creature’s accent was not overly difficult to decipher with some thought, but the Fireen had little patience for concentrating on the words of others. Still, he had come this far, so the least he could do was try to get to the bottom of why the creature had an energy signature comparable to that of the Pundambayan race. Or rather, the energy signature of their technology, Kanitah’s technology, the World Machine. It was not so common a device that any individual should be trawling the galaxy with technology of the same ilk, yet the man (?) provided little information as to who he was.

“Dunnaman.” He said slowly, rolling the strange name off his tongue, his voice echoing with that of the Void. “So you don’t know who you are, but you were happy to fight Ryllan scouts and, somewhat, succeed?” Fury looked fearsome for a moment. “No matter, they are no friends of mine, I could care less what happens to them.”

Fury approached the being. If not for the energy scars that pulsed on his face and the strength of his build he would have looked less dangerous than usual. He was unaware of his much his armour played into his ordinary visage. Still, he could be intimidating, and Dunnaman could likely be intimidated.

“Now, I want to know what you do remember. I want to know where you got that mace.”