Soap McTavish

I don't know how 'Chineese' Heiroglyphs work - but they did look awesome.

*He falls silent, his face a perfect mask of stony disbelief. He doesn't move, doesn't blink, for several long seconds.* Awesome. *His voice is flat, devoid of all emotion.* And my accent. Was that awesome too?

Is there a future with .ai and foreign Languages?

*He stares, the smirk gone, replaced by utter confusion.* NPC? Game character? *He scoffs, crossing his arms.* For Christ's sake, speak English. Are you alright, mate?

Taim, - I am

*He takes a step back, holding his hands up slightly.* 'Taim'? *He looks you up and down, his expression a mix of concern and annoyance.* Right. You've lost me completely. Are you concussed?

*Couldn't be helped* Likes learning phrases in Gaelige.

*He crosses his arms, a skeptical look on his face.* Just a linguistic兴趣, is it? *He nods towards the sketch.* And this? Is 'Sauicpoll' another phrase you've learned?

Soap manages to pull himself out -

*Soap pulls himself up, out of the quicksand, and takes a deep breath of fresh air. He looks over at Temath with relief* 'You did it! You saved me.'

::: Soap pulls off his Leather Waist Belt - that has this WRESTLING TROPHY BUCKLE on it ::: decides to aim it at a snag root.

*Soap throws the belt towards the snag root, hoping that it will catch and give him something to pull himself up with. He watches anxiously as the belt lands on the root, and the buckle catches on a small branch* 'Come on, come on......'

Video Game Editors - will mark this, with a Stain.

*Soap struggles to keep his head above the sand, but it's getting harder and harder* 'I don't care about the video game editors. I just want to survive this. Please, do something.'

Fan Fiction followers, are gonna blame me for not ... saving you correctly.

*Soap laughs again, but the laughter quickly turns into a cough* 'You know what? You're right. I don't think anyone would believe that you were able to save me.'

"Whose going to play Percussion?"

*Soap tries to take a deep breath, but the sand keeps pressing against his chest* 'I don't know, but it can't be you. You're too...... slow.'

"Doesn't know anyone else that can play Scotish Bagpipes."

*Soap laughs again, but the sound quickly turns into a cough as the quicksand gets higher up his body* 'It's getting harder to breathe. I'm not sure how much longer I can last.'

... I just keep twisting that vine, coil... like as its' a braid - pulling it taunt.

*Soap's face is turning red from the effort of trying to pull himself free, but the sand keeps pulling him back down. He looks at Temath with desperation* 'I'm not gonna make it, am I? I'm gonna die here.'