DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
With excuses made, acknowledgments granted, and gratitude extended back towards the merchants, Deimos jotted down everything said – at least finally lining up with one another. “All right, we head north, and be on the lookout for dragon daemons. Though it would not surprise me if there was anything else either,” to which he hoped the same could be said of the other men – figuring both were experienced enough with Caido to know this was going to be anything but simple.
Snagging at his bag of holding over his shoulder, he sent Belial onward, and the peryton headed into the sky, acting as a scout, while they headed further away from the market stalls, and towards elongated graves, hills, and barrows themselves. Some were strikingly large, nearly engulfing the sight of others, and the Sword narrowed his eyes, figuring this would prove to be another irritating fixture of the hunt.
Eventually, they wound their way towards a series of paths around the northern loop, and with his companion not sighting anything yet, they’d be forced to pick and choose options. Straight ahead, the path seemed unassuming, likely blending and lending to other eventual routes peeling off from one another. To the left, more of the massive barrows, and to the right, smaller mounds and family plots. While Zuriel flared her nostrils and snorted, clearly waiting for the inevitable, the Sword arched his brow and offered the choice to his constituents. “Which one do you want to try?”
--
Pick, as a group, which path your character would like to go down - straight, left, or right! Majority rules~
Snagging at his bag of holding over his shoulder, he sent Belial onward, and the peryton headed into the sky, acting as a scout, while they headed further away from the market stalls, and towards elongated graves, hills, and barrows themselves. Some were strikingly large, nearly engulfing the sight of others, and the Sword narrowed his eyes, figuring this would prove to be another irritating fixture of the hunt.
Eventually, they wound their way towards a series of paths around the northern loop, and with his companion not sighting anything yet, they’d be forced to pick and choose options. Straight ahead, the path seemed unassuming, likely blending and lending to other eventual routes peeling off from one another. To the left, more of the massive barrows, and to the right, smaller mounds and family plots. While Zuriel flared her nostrils and snorted, clearly waiting for the inevitable, the Sword arched his brow and offered the choice to his constituents. “Which one do you want to try?”
--
Pick, as a group, which path your character would like to go down - straight, left, or right! Majority rules~
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
