[ John is in a stranger position than he's usually in when he makes broadcasts. Sprawled out on his stomach on the floor, locket in front of his face, he looks- not relaxed, but at the very least less active than he usually is. On his back rests the head and front paws of his female saber-fanged cave lion, her toes flexing every once in a while as if she's kneading his back.

There's a loud sigh. ]

God damn, but this place makes me feel old sometimes. I'm in my thirties and here we all get triple the lifespan -- I'm way too young for this. Don't know how you elves and other long-lived people do it.

[ Granted, with his enhancements, John may very well be long-lived even without the lifespan boost of the Drabwurld... but that's not the point. ]

Of course, this could be part of what happens when you join the military at seventeen and see several lifetimes of war stretch out in front of you. Not that I assume the life expectancy for most shardbearers is that high...

[ And he's being morbid. He grimaces- and then swears again. ]

Buttercup, watch your claws!