To transport some wood

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Arching his brow, he snorted vaguely at the statement – loading the remnants of the lumber in the same easygoing style. “Experience,” he rumbled, in strength, diligence, and carting things around for seemingly eternities. The sled wouldn’t be large enough to carry the meat, wood, Belial, and Eternum, so the man would likely find himself walking alongside. Zuriel, ever the sovereign depiction, glanced at him from near Deimos’ shoulder, but offered nothing more than her narrowed eyes. Noting at the directions, and knowing some of his own distribution was in the area, he nodded. “No problem. I need to deliver near there.” Tugging at the vessel, he began sweeping along the Citadel roads with his long strides, glancing back at the other every so often to ensure he was still there. Curiosity, along with stoicism and hoards of other facets, always interwove its way to his machinating mind, and so his deep vocals carried along the breadth of the path again. “What is your role in Halo?” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace