A Man with no Race.(ORIN TEMPLE - Open - Just Ask first)

He'd still cough out as a light sweat still was set at his brow. The fever never faded but he was seeing things a little clearer now. His pod capsulized in his pocket in need of some repairs. But his body barely given attention too. His bandage removed and his bare chest showed only a wound that grew worse that went fully through. Growing worse by the hour. The dried blood on his pants torn lightly at the right leg to show as well the wound that festered there as well. His pants normal fitting unlike those skin tight outfits most preferred. An black leather boots at his feet. His blue hair slicked back and well kept so even in bad shape as he was now it seemed to hold that lazy attractive shape to it. 

The coughing rang out like a cackling raspy horse thing. Sickened in sound and there was a slushy spot of spit next to where where he reclined his back against a statue of some kind in the yard of the temple. The spit filled with blood that had twists and spirals of black within it. Jarvis sat there as his injured leg trembled and only idly holding a hand over the stomach wound. The warm sunlight one of the few things keeping his paler then usual body with some warmth. His blue tail laying limp at his side with only the tip of it showing any light movement. 

Several areas of the court yard were broken and injured. Statues destroyed where he'd landed in his feverish haze. His throat was sore and he kept trying to seize the pain with strong drink. Wine he had to wrestle from the local monks. Many of them left knocked out and strewn about the courtyard. None were dead but they'd likely feel there wounds for a few days to come. They tried using types of combat that must have been native to this planet. But it did little good compared to what ability he'd amassed in his ventures. 

Jarvis had came in like a mad fire his head rushed with pain and hallucinating fever. He fought destroyed and broke all in his path and finally settled here where he sat now with the large jug of wine he'd snatched in the mayhem. The temple was in major need of repair but nothing unfixable. Even at his worst like this Jarvis was still to a extent a kind soul. Unless money or his own life influenced him of course. 

He didn't really care at present for his actions. But he knew once... if his mind had a chance to settle and this wounds mended he'd probably have some reflection coming his way. But in times of the dark mind it was easy to care so little. Not even a small worry of the law or anyone stronger from this place coming about. But until then he just drowned down the wine with not so much as a worry for his own health or well being. His mind stuck to flashes of lifeless eyes of a girl he'd barely known fading into a darkness. Into a abyss and nothingness. Leaving her body just a meaningless shell of dust in his arms. All for something that was a mistake. The realization that it could have been him as well with just the bad luck of being found first. It wasn't the first crew he'd lost. An he always left in the end. Chocking down another mouthful of wine. Each exertion of his effort to drink had his stomach wound from both the entrance and back exit wound seeping out a little more blood from the exertion. 

But this was just the way things were done in dark space. Whether you knew them well or planned to leave or even put a dagger in a mans back. If they were your crew even for a short time you learned to share these moments of reflection when they fell. For some living in the worst of space between the major empires controlled space. Such small things and times like that were all they really had between the hectic excitement and dangers that came their way. He though of home and the women that raised him. Allowing his mind swarm through past memories as he tried to find some form of light peace here. 
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