Fractured PastJak was never one to cry. It never was considered odd to anyone. Crying was considered weakness and he was never known to show weakness. Yet, he never cried. Daxter couldn’t recall a time in Sandover when Jak had. It was natural to cry, but Jak always took out any reasons to through the gun course, or a band of marauders.
Anyone was considered unlucky to be on the end of that morph gun when Jak tried to tame his emotions. There was always that wince from Daxter as Jak shot the extra bullet into the corpse for “good measure.” Haven forest never looked bloodier than when he “confronted” his feelings on Sig becoming a meal for a metalhead.
There weren’t enough enemies to release the pent-up feelings this time.
Damas was gone. His father, who gave his life to help him. He hadn't even known Jak was his son when that chance was taken. He did it out of respect. Genuine respect was rare, especially for Jak. They all may have respected his dark form, but who
Drinks“…and there were 20 less metal heads in the world!”
Jak could never get drunk, no matter how much he’s had to drink. Any alcohol he consumed would be purified by his light powers. There was always that line, though, where he consumed more than his powers could handle. This was rare, and the few times he’d done it the Naughty Ottsel closed until the next shipment.
“oh, and Jak helped.”
The foam rose whenever Tess would refill his glass, faintly reminding him of the shores back at Sandover. Drinking always brought him in the mood to remember, though it was clear the purpose of the drink was to forget.
The ottsel laid his elbow on the blue tunic covering the shoulder, shooting finger guns at Tess, only to blow the ‘smoke’ from his paws, causing her to swoon over her knight in orange fur.
“Aaaw, my little hero!” Giggles could be heard from behind the bar, a small glass being placed in front of Jak. He knew it wasn’t fo
[Jak And Daxter] Orphan Ch.2~ Two ~
Larger than usual within the small space of the hut (the variety of elaborate and bizarre trinkets did not help this matter), the Baron somehow managed to pace back and forth. Many a tale had been fed into his ear of the soothsayer’s visions, yet nothing came to pass. Trumped up legends called fact were hardly a necessity. The endless war cost him money, men and Eco, bribed Metal Heads attacking the city just enough to be a pitiful consolation prize.
“You are sure about this vision?” he ground out the words, barely hanging onto the vestige of self-control. Perhaps a weakness, impatience also enabled the man to act, how he succeeded where others could not, rising to the rank of Supreme Commander of Haven’s army and standing as the King’s right-hand man. Without a monarch to stand in the way, Praxis now held ultimate power and the Grand Council in the palm of his hand.
Usually more talkative, the vibrant moncaw understood one did not di
[Jak And Daxter] Gift - MythJak expected to find himself going up against men. Before him, in a defensive stance, was a figure only describable as Thing. It seemed human enough – a head, two arms and legs – but was encased in bizarre armour. Metal plates covered from head to toe, in an assortment of white, yellow and grey. A large gem lodged in the helmet glowed a pale acid green, made of what appeared to be glass. The effect was almost one of gazing upon an oversized insect.
As it propelled forward at incredible speed, the blonde soldier was left with a niggling thought in the back of his mind – and only a split-second to react to such an attack. The familiarity of said enemy previously unattainable, that was no longer the case – realised in the heat of battle, of all times.
The adversary, faced with an empty rifle, instead began striking with the attached bayonet. Jak barely ducked from the blade’s swipe, feeling the movement of air as it narrowly missed slicing horizontally