DEIMOS
When opportunities arose amidst his multitudes of other duties, Deimos hunted; not for meat, but for the creatures of the void. Promises expressed and convictions rendered in not only guildmaster prowess, but abiding the need of Torchline itself, the Sword shared the responsibility of mauling the creatures when and where he could. Snagging and gaining information from the actions was just another motive along his steeled machinations. He and Belial had been following the flock of void Hels (altogether different from their counterparts), and this bout seemed determined to press their wake away from the beach, and over towards the more volcanic region. While it didn’t bother his companion, it gave Deimos pause, and enough justification to persist and pursue.
Only thereafter, rising over the crest of the ashen hills, did he realize what their intentions had been – a woman down below, searching through rubble. With a heavy, but practically unheard sigh from the eagle, he and the flying deer became an unrelenting force from above. Belial had learned, at some point, to remain silent in his vigilance, immediately snatching at the disturbing creatures with his vicious jaws, but the birds wouldn’t be quiet – cawing and seeking out their brethren. Surely the stranger would hear the sudden bout of shrieking.
Which didn’t bother either peryton nor Warden, not with outstretched talons, clutching one void cretin’s neck and listening to the audible snap.
"who's gonna let you?"
they asked. i said
"who's gonna stop me?"
