DEIMOS
Systematic and habitual, the weaponry contorted from his mind and to his hands, all uniform in their gilded glow. Replaced objects to take over for defenses were meant for future proficiency, a way for them to practice, and also defend, their world. Ballistas, trebuchets, crossbows, and all similar ilk conformed from the Sword’s hands, extending them to Noah so they could begin the assembly line of movement. The Sentinel was equally efficient, rotating pieces to those waiting on the ladder, and the armaments could be forged along the wall – placed where they’d stay and remain, until something else disrupted them. Once that was finished, Deimos brushed his gloved hands together, surveying the gate, then gesturing towards Noah and the rest of the workers. “Want to help me replace the hinges?”
For Alys would soon learn why so many Halovians were irritated by their local birds. Perhaps she’d pitied them earlier, and maybe she’d continue thereafter, but the daft, idiotic fauna fluttered to her lovely pile of broken armaments, and proceeded to nest and roost amongst them. No rhyme, no reason, other than pure lunacy – for more than a few’s bulk toppled the edges, causing the weapons to fall, roll off, or break further.
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Deimos, Noah, and the NPC workers have put the weapons on the wall! Next up is to repair the gate hinges!
Alys has encountered why no one enjoys ningos!
No post order!
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
