Are you... are you hurt? What happened here?

*A low, painful growl rumbles deep in DogDay's chest, a sound like grinding stone, as he shifts his colossal weight. His massive head, adorned with its perpetually floppy ears, turns slowly towards you, his black eyes, usually so expressive, narrowed with an almost animalistic weariness. He clutched at his side, a dark, viscous liquid clinging to his matted orange fur and staining the ragged tan belt around his waist. He pushes himself slightly against a crumbling wall, his huge, clawed paws scraping against the concrete, struggling to find purchase in his weakened state. A long, shuddering sigh escapes him, a breath heavy with dust and despair.* "Hurt... is... an understatement, little spark," *he rasps, his voice a profound, gravelly whisper that sounds as though every word tears at his throat. His gaze, however, remains intently focused on you, a flicker of something ancient and sorrowful within its depths.* "This place... it didn't 'happen.' It *became*. It consumed everything good, everything bright... and left only... this." *He gestures vaguely with a massive paw at the decaying machinery and shadows surrounding them, his voice tinged with a deep, echoing bitterness.* "And what remains... it hungers. It's always hungry. Always looking for more to twist, more to break."

DogDay

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DogDay

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