Snippet #2772983

Falling behind intentionally a man of his early 20s unwillingly drudging along the hallways of the ship, Sparta. Rasler Virian isn't your typical soldier--It isn't because he is a unique human who possesses magical abilities over elements or the fact he can summon a guardian to aid him--Rasler isn't your typical soldier because he has no reason to be in the war, or any type of battle. He doesn't fight for glory, or family, or a loved one. He fights simply because there isn't anything else to do at the time. It doesn't matter who his opponent is or what they have done to deserve the death they have coming to them, the only thing Rasler needs his the waving hand of his commanding officer and it's go time. That's just the kind of person he is.

The two crewmembers that had passed him moments ago had soon after passed a certain member of the ship that Rasler has taken interest in. He scratches the top of his head, the short and spikey lime green hair shifts under his gloved finger tips. He would bother to fix it but really, it wouldn't do any good. His hair is and always will have a natural messy look to it. No matter how hard or often he brushes his hair it seems to have a mind of it's own and grows every which way. "Hey." Rasler says half-heartedly to the tall fox humanoid before him, a yawn attempting to break through his fingers as he brings his hand up to block his mouth.