DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
With no response from Rhiannon, Erebos waved his hands about again; gestures of movement and motion that caused Deimos to glance over his shoulder and snort briefly. The youth had the workings of a social butterfly, entirely opposite from his father. But then his attention deviated, and the other soldier’s offer wasn’t a surprise, and as he finally peeled back the layers of wood, he found the culprit – lodged portions of ice clogging away at the gears. “If you want,” he motioned. “Come on up.” The walls had enough ladders nearby, unless she intended to launch herself nearby, and certainly enough space to have both along it as they maneuvered across portions of stone. “I figured I would inspect these while I had the chance.”
It took no more than a few moments for his incantations to alter the temperature along the brackets and wooden, releasing the lodging of frozen particles jammed into its sanction. Within seconds it could return to its old placements, and he pulled at several portions to ensure it could still function efficiently.
It took no more than a few moments for his incantations to alter the temperature along the brackets and wooden, releasing the lodging of frozen particles jammed into its sanction. Within seconds it could return to its old placements, and he pulled at several portions to ensure it could still function efficiently.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
