/[i]Wake up. Wake up![/i]/ Titan's eyes snapped open, staring at the sky through the water drops on his visor. He groaned as the pain came throbbing through him. He tried to remember what happened, fleeting glimpses of a rock wall as he smashed into the river, ramming into rock after rock on his way downriver. /[i]Finally. Took you long enough[/i]/ He turned his head to look at his surroundings, his neck protesting even the slightest movement. The featureless hills sat there, emotionless things that seemed to mock him as he painstakingly stood up, grabbing Clarent from where the sword rested in the mud. In the distance he saw the mountain where he fell from the trail. A ringing headache permeated his skull as he wiped his visor clean. He tapped the side of his helmet to try and activate his rangefinder, but stops as nothing responds. "Stupid rocks" he muttered as he looked around the featureless plains. /[i]Yeah, they did a number on my hilt. I mean seriously, why do rocks have to be so rude?[/i]/ "They don't really have a choice." /[i]Still.... but let's find a way out of this mess.[/i]/ Deciding on walking away from the mountains, he trekked through the grass in a random direction, just trying to find a place to rest as he fought through the pain. Hour after hour passed, featureless, browning grass giving way to the occasional tree. Finally, he spied a thin column of smoke on the horizon, a small promise of salvation. He rushed towards it, clinging to the hope that he might make it back in time for the fight. As he walked towards the village, the people stared at him as he passed. He looked himself over, realizing how odd a figure he looked. His armor had become silver as the rocks scraped the paint from it, but the riverbank had covered him in mud. Clarent hung from his belt, grip still damp and muddy. All in all, it was hardly surprising how curious the looks he got were. He walked to the nearby river, washing the mud off of his armor and Clarent. He walked back to the village, looking for a bar. Not to drink, but to gather information, maybe hitch a ride. He remembered that his jetpack wasn't working with a tinge of anger. He'd need to fix that before he did much else. Walking into the bar, he slipped into a stall in the back of the room, near a barely functioning TV. Unslinging his jetpack, he began fixing it, adjusting the wires back to their proper places. He paid little attention to anyone for a while, until something he never expected to hear came out of the TV. He looked at it, his eyes widening in shock and anger at what was being displayed on the screen. He couldn't believe that was true. Parading across the screen was a picture of Tilman and the man who had tried to kill him. Tilman had joined Scintillate. [spoiler]so yeah, I didn't die. Yay[/spoiler]