Deimos
Deimos knew a thing or two about the never-ending cycle of violence – war spurned war, battle prompted battle, crusade after crusade after crusade. Some necessary, some not, and some left nothing more than a multitude of scars upon those who’d survived and those long since gone, buried, beneath the works of stone. But then again, did one blame the animals for their instincts? Unfortunately, much of the beasts within Caido were tenacious and vicious, Family impaired or not – but then again, so was he, and he suspected Colt was much the same. Determination could tip the scales even when might and strength were suitable matches. Alas, for those already deceased, they should have taken some anecdotes from their fallen comrades, and hastened off before the straggling, blinded glances left nothing but emptiness behind concaved nerves and severed spines.
So as she grumbled and fled from one stretch to the next, she’d likely finally have her command answered. Her arrow struck true, right into the denizens of its left foreleg, and it screamed, screeched, for its brethren that wouldn’t be coming. A finishing blow from the thunderbird ensured it dropped dead soon after; and with a shake of his head, he was landing, human again.
“Thank you for the help,” he extended, kicking at the nearest one with his boot and sending it into the muck. “You see why they are a problem.” Shrugging his shoulders, having done this on many an occasion and remaining wholly unbothered by it all, he gave her half a moment to return back to pictures of normalcy, venues of calm, as the peryton extended messages from above. “Belial did happen to see a horse about a hundred yards that way,” pointing north, “If you want some help.”
So as she grumbled and fled from one stretch to the next, she’d likely finally have her command answered. Her arrow struck true, right into the denizens of its left foreleg, and it screamed, screeched, for its brethren that wouldn’t be coming. A finishing blow from the thunderbird ensured it dropped dead soon after; and with a shake of his head, he was landing, human again.
“Thank you for the help,” he extended, kicking at the nearest one with his boot and sending it into the muck. “You see why they are a problem.” Shrugging his shoulders, having done this on many an occasion and remaining wholly unbothered by it all, he gave her half a moment to return back to pictures of normalcy, venues of calm, as the peryton extended messages from above. “Belial did happen to see a horse about a hundred yards that way,” pointing north, “If you want some help.”
we exhume our enemy's bones
we are battling, hungry beasts
we are battling, hungry beasts
