His too calm and cool demeanor, the strange reverberations in his voice, the haunting lights crawling in his face. Horror is the closest word and it does no justice to the primal fear lurking behind the eyes of the desperately collected Dunnaman. Fury toyed with his name for a moment, the introductions weren't over and yet he was asking for more information about him. No, not him, about his mace.
What kind of man is he?
Not wanting to engage in hostilities as frequently as he does, Dunnaman kept his tone low and as polite as he could. Withholding any of his usual sarcasm or hot-blooded shouting, something about this guy wasn't right. It was almost as if his instincts were telling him about a predator much higher up the food chain than him, like a barracuda running into a mako. Just feels dangerous all around. "'T was mahd fer mah condahshun. That thar star ah cahm from had daycent folks who halped mah oht, mahd eht ter kehp mah ehnargeh absobshun ehn check. Ahtherwahs ah'd suck up ahll tha mahtter round mah an' probablay ahxplode."
He paused for a moment, trying to work his most pressing question into the conversation in a reasonable way. "Ehrr. . .Sah, what's thah rahson fer yah askehn? Mehster. . .?" He was hoping that leaving the sentence open ended would have him fill in his name, if he didn't then he wouldn't bother trying to ask again.