DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
He mulled over the potentials of an inn; with normally larger lobbies, and multitude of rooms that might grant her wish. Walls could always be knocked out if she wished for something more massive, or something didn’t suit her design, and he outlined several other fronts, but didn’t bother with a blueprint. If she was ordaining and orchestrating it from scratch, that’d be more in the realms of possibility. Instead, she’d be working with whatever she could find, and accommodate from within.
Once the paper was taken, he leaned back again, a muttered rumble and snort ensued. “Hm. We could always alter things from inside too.” It would just take more time, more precision, more strength, which the beast had in spades. A chance to unfurl some power, some dominion, some might, some multitudes, when he wasn’t occupied with the barracks, or another faction of duties. “Weapons as well?” For whatever worked best on certain fauna?
Once the paper was taken, he leaned back again, a muttered rumble and snort ensued. “Hm. We could always alter things from inside too.” It would just take more time, more precision, more strength, which the beast had in spades. A chance to unfurl some power, some dominion, some might, some multitudes, when he wasn’t occupied with the barracks, or another faction of duties. “Weapons as well?” For whatever worked best on certain fauna?
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
