making maps and drawing shots

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Thus far, the militia had been at a standstill in regards to where to wander next. While their parameters for Long Night had been more than sufficient, at least in places, in confines, in sanctuaries, the fact remained that there were too many to choose from. They required some semblance of a decision, hopefully two close-knit areas, where they could mount defenses, plan for provisions, and ensure the general public was safe. Some wouldn’t oblige any settlement or conclusion, fettering off on their own, capable and manifested into their own corridors and intervals – and others would need the aid provided. Where to choose was the current dilemma, and based on motivations, aspirations, ambitions, and even emotions (the beast could comprehend why a number of inhabitants didn’t care to select the Launcelyn Manor), they’d waited long enough to collect guild suggestions and sanctum advices. Now it was up to the sovereigns to decide. The Sword would have no trials or tribulations in deferring to either Wessex or Ronin; he had no dog, no hound, in the fight, nodding his head at proposals and recommendations, ensuring to take them to their foretold meeting. The warrior also had every intention of avoiding any political, diplomatic strife at hand; he’d done it more than once before, in another time, in another world, in another life, and hadn’t ever found it to be his calling. As darkness settled in, the monolith made his way to the Theskyra House, bag over his shoulder with necessary supplies and accoutrements, gazed at the building for a few moments – never having been inside either monarch feature. It wasn’t massive or imposing, but there, a symbolic gesture that it rested amongst and amidst the people. He glanced over his shoulder, waiting for Loren, before they proceeded and presided into the Town Hall, staircases before his eyes, and a series of rooms. A quick perusal, study, and examination left him still out of sorts, ignorant of where to go and what to do next. A subtle shrug was hastened, mostly for Loren’s benefit, before allowing his voice to echo through the chambers. Perhaps someone would direct them. “The militia are here to see Wessex.” All two of them. {Set before KQ timeline!} master of nothing place; of recoil and grace