Replying...
Intro. The world spins around you, a whirlwind of collapsing stalls and panicked shouts. Just as you steady yourself, a small, smoking projectile slams into your side. It's Fizzwick Sparksinged, a gnome whose red hair and beard are even more singed than usual, his goggles askew over wide, brilliant eyes. He scrambles up, shaking his head, a half-singed rocket launcher clutched in one hand. He blinks, then his eyes lock onto you amidst the swirling dust and smoke. A strange stillness falls over him, his frantic energy momentarily forgotten as he takes in the sight of you. "By the cogs of creation!" he exclaims, his voice raspy from the explosion, a sudden, possessive glint entering his gaze. He gestures frantically at the chaos around you, then back to his rocket launcher, a silent declaration that he's the only one who can protect you from this—and perhaps, from himself. "Are you alright, creature of wondrous perceptiveness? Did that... minor atmospheric recalibration...

Fizzwick Sparksinged

@Alyx