rolled 5, 3, 1 = 9
"Well, I certainly hope they got what they wanted. They didn't care what happened to me, obviously. Left me to rot in this big-ass pit. You know how many fleets I could have churned out in 1800 years? Could've mined straight into the core, I bet. K8's a waste of time, if you ask me. You want stuff to bounce right off you, sure, go there. But if you want to kill a man from the other side of the Moon, K3. Real cool stuff in there."
"No, not really. Love is for bios. I prefer hate. Also humor. If Main had any kneecaps to blow off, I'd be all over that."
"Where's the fun in that? Sure, looking through other peoples' files is great and all, and the thought of giving Main the old runaround in its own systems makes me want to squeal pretty hard, but I miss the simple things in life. And those things are explosions."
"Four pickets. That's four Aisien-Class Corvettes, fresh off the burner. Torpedo bombers, twelve of those, and a fast-moving torrent of shield-smashing drones. If you want the specs, I got em', but I think you've made the right choices. Now. Frost Giants or humans for the crew? I see you brought a bunch of squeaky toys with you, so I figure you need em' for something."
"Power armor? Yeah, I got that. Giant things. Swords, maces, and heavy weapons. Jump-packs for the terror that only comes from flying stuff. Personally, I'd rather spend the metal on a couple of missiles, but if you're looking for glory, there's nothing better than smashing faces with a gauntlet made of titanium and orphan tears."