DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
His brow arched slightly, scanning over the brief pamphlets of notes, before placing them back within his pockets. “Griffins and dragons. Wonderful,” with all the facetious, sarcastic tones he could muster, nodding along at the group decision. “To the right.” Family plots. Waltons.
Always ready for a fight, or at least something dangerous and ridiculous, he still felt the surge of his incantations rise to the surface of his skin, hissing under his veins, eager and fervent. They turned down the right route, and the predictable features were beheld: mounds of predeceased households and relations, most sorted by name. Some were marked by statues or simple plating, others covered in debris or the earth trying to reclaim its properties.
His eyes scanned the titles – no semblance of alphabetical order or sense to the sequences or arrangements. Perhaps they’d simply been placed wherever there’d been room, a manageable assortment. Before they could go much further though, Belial gave an all-mighty screech from above, and as he looked ahead, there were patterns, ripples, in the air – five, of various shapes and sizes. Beaks took shape. Wings. Their own cries.
Though, for the moment, they just seemed to be hovering around one another, rather than immediately spying them. In a low rumble, he considered their options, glancing at the scenery nearby. “No surprise there,” studying the outcropping, they could use some of the barrows to duck down behind, but otherwise there wasn’t much else for cover. “If you want, I can make a shield to protect us.” There was always the other option of just going full out – but he’d prefer ensuring all of them made it home at the end of the day.
--
Decide on a strategy or just hit the daemon griffins now!
Griffin One: ?/?
Griffin Two: ?/?
Griffin Three: ?/?
Griffin Four: ?/?
Griffin Five: ?/?
Always ready for a fight, or at least something dangerous and ridiculous, he still felt the surge of his incantations rise to the surface of his skin, hissing under his veins, eager and fervent. They turned down the right route, and the predictable features were beheld: mounds of predeceased households and relations, most sorted by name. Some were marked by statues or simple plating, others covered in debris or the earth trying to reclaim its properties.
His eyes scanned the titles – no semblance of alphabetical order or sense to the sequences or arrangements. Perhaps they’d simply been placed wherever there’d been room, a manageable assortment. Before they could go much further though, Belial gave an all-mighty screech from above, and as he looked ahead, there were patterns, ripples, in the air – five, of various shapes and sizes. Beaks took shape. Wings. Their own cries.
Though, for the moment, they just seemed to be hovering around one another, rather than immediately spying them. In a low rumble, he considered their options, glancing at the scenery nearby. “No surprise there,” studying the outcropping, they could use some of the barrows to duck down behind, but otherwise there wasn’t much else for cover. “If you want, I can make a shield to protect us.” There was always the other option of just going full out – but he’d prefer ensuring all of them made it home at the end of the day.
--
Decide on a strategy or just hit the daemon griffins now!
Griffin One: ?/?
Griffin Two: ?/?
Griffin Three: ?/?
Griffin Four: ?/?
Griffin Five: ?/?
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
