Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
A flurry of feathers descended rapidly from the sky, and Deimos fought the urge to roll his eyes – he couldn’t begrudge the peryton, not after all the times he’d set after the little beasts. It ended up some grand spectacle for any passersby though, and by the time he’d bothered to glance up, the carnivorous deer had two of the fat birds in his mouth and was vying for more. Pretending it wasn’t happening, he shifted his long strides towards the first house, leaving the bundle on their front porch, and motioning for Colt to do the same. “Big family here. Part of our local trackers,” and the supply would keep them going for the week, while the rest of them hunted on the fringes and did what they could during the long winter.
Then he listened, nodding along as she mentioned ‘tents’. While Halovians wouldn’t be able to survive long in such a situation, the same couldn’t be said for the desert – they had the opposing problem. And it seemed a host of others, including the toxic plants. “Heard the air was not great through there either,” due to the large bouts of venomous vegetation and its blistering pollen. “Seems you will have many options for regional quests.” Returning to the sled, he waited for her to clamber back on, before pulling the vessel down the street once more. “No monster run-ins yet?”
