To transport some wood

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Nodding, unaware of Eternum’s less than enthused notions about weapons (which was too bad – Deimos always ensured a well-stocked armory and was eternally ardent and keen about such arsenals), he persisted in dragging the vessel along, pinpointing it towards Eternum’s destination. The sled continued to run and ramble easily, the runners content, and making it to the stopping point was no hassle either. Ceasing to tug on the strand, he then meandered to the lumber contained within, arms grabbing hold of a large section. “Any place you want them?” If not, he could always drop them off on a porch or something – ready access for whenever the man required the wood. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace