[center][h3][b]Jace Rosson[/b][/h3][/center]

Jace breathed a sigh of relief as the message played and the escape ship was tugged toward safety. Sure, this Ragnarov Fleet didn't exactly sound friendly, but it wasn't as if his hopes were high to begin with. His hand quickly tapped against the folded Plasma Pickaxe currently resting in a slot of a utility belt before he prepared to exit the vessel.

As he looked around as he was ferried in, he noticed the distinct lack of other humans on board. He didn't care much; if the message sent to him meant anything, there was at least one who spoke his language on board. He looked around the parts of the ship he could see, waiting to be successfully docked before attempting to exit the escape craft, his hands held in a defensive posture, raised just above his head to show he wasn't holding a weapon.