DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Deimos stood amidst the grounds, silent as he pondered and calculated the circumstances of carrying void creatures around. We certainly have plenty to choose from as he glanced towards the Tundra, but with the meaning that they wouldn’t have to seek permission from Dahlia or ramble through Stormbreak, plucking at things and inevitably causing more drama. Would they have to be alive? Could the mirewyrm simply appreciate a carcass? We may need to find a way to trap it, inevitably. We cannot have it continue to escape through the rock. Where it was faster, swifter, than his, and many others, magic could contain or bombard.
Knowing it didn’t care about normal food, but larger, perhaps more threatening aspects, was good information, and he struck that of his list of potentials swarming about his mind. Though his brows furrowed at the Sohalia quest. With enough flowers at their disposal for upcoming treks and trips, Deimos wasn’t certain why hers mattered so much to the Forsaken – they’d, after all, used some before to cleanse the Greatwood, and cure others of infection. He wasn’t certain if Noah was trying to control her narrative and purpose, or merely snag at information; hopeful it was the latter, since he trusted the Luminary to do what was best – as innocent as she might’ve been. Maybe she intends to cure someone. He didn’t know all of those remaining infested – only if names were dropped during a broadcast.
Knowing it didn’t care about normal food, but larger, perhaps more threatening aspects, was good information, and he struck that of his list of potentials swarming about his mind. Though his brows furrowed at the Sohalia quest. With enough flowers at their disposal for upcoming treks and trips, Deimos wasn’t certain why hers mattered so much to the Forsaken – they’d, after all, used some before to cleanse the Greatwood, and cure others of infection. He wasn’t certain if Noah was trying to control her narrative and purpose, or merely snag at information; hopeful it was the latter, since he trusted the Luminary to do what was best – as innocent as she might’ve been. Maybe she intends to cure someone. He didn’t know all of those remaining infested – only if names were dropped during a broadcast.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
