Deimos
THE RESURRECTED SWORD
How did you survive? they ask
How long did you suffer?
how dark did they tint your dreams?A snort billowed through their connection, like a ricocheting rumble, meant to be inveigled amongst humor, despite the ravenous, rapacious, avaricious movements and motions rampaging through his predator skin. Nor am I. On this occasion, it’d only been Sunjata, scarcely an inch over his prominent height (so they were like two towers, two monoliths; would’ve likened it to the guards of the Basin, but no one in this midst would understand, so it was left unsaid). Thereafter, it likely didn’t matter anyway – both skilled enough to assemble their vehement tactics into the room, and after a while, all the rats within the room had been cornered, their sniveling, squealing, squeaking pleas heard on deaf ears. Deimos struck with paws, claws, and teeth, finding no appeal worthwhile to his ears, a murderous onslaught felt and chiseled deep within his bones, a whirlwind of infernal exposition and acrimony; fine undulations of nefarious properties he hadn’t been able to conjure or summon in a long while. The immorality chased and heightened, loomed and presided, until there was a collection of rats in his mouth, and he maneuvered out of the sanction, carrying them outside, along the front, where they could dispose of them later. All right? he conjured through the connection too, remembering the brief outcry as the rat latched onto paws.
The wasps’ irritation was somewhat shortlived (please get the joke), their nest crushed beneath the weight of the reconfigured earth. However, despite the compelling, the power, the notions of Beastmaster abilities, there were still some contemptuous, eye-for-an-eye wasps rising from their ire, intending to strike, to pummel, to sting, before they were whisked away. Seeking to avenge their fallen brethren, they aimed to scorch along his neck, his arms, his face, anywhere they could – before finally fleeing into the ether. With their fleeing intonations, Jigano would be free to either find some ointment or meander back inside for further directions – unless he thought there was some other debris that needed tending.
Oh, Oliver – who still somehow didn’t pick up the gloves – was at least entirely successful in this attempt, the windows replaced with a firm, although bandaged, hand.
Thereafter, Deimos altered once more, shifting back, sticking his head out of the confines, looking for Jigano, and then proffering further instructions – his eyes sliding over stings and cuts with the briefest shake of his head, the mildest touch of concern and bewilderment. “Now that we have cleared the room of rats, I would like to move the remaining furniture out of there.” Then it could be successfully converted into its newest purpose. “We also need to assemble some new targets out on the training grounds, and the doors need some work.” The apertures were warped, but there were some new boards nearby to assist in the repairs.
--
Hey successful rolls this time!
Pick your next task and get started again – Deimos will be moving furniture!
One person to help move furniture, one person to help assemble targets (you can find any materials you want outside), and the doors need to be replaced.
The wasps’ irritation was somewhat shortlived (please get the joke), their nest crushed beneath the weight of the reconfigured earth. However, despite the compelling, the power, the notions of Beastmaster abilities, there were still some contemptuous, eye-for-an-eye wasps rising from their ire, intending to strike, to pummel, to sting, before they were whisked away. Seeking to avenge their fallen brethren, they aimed to scorch along his neck, his arms, his face, anywhere they could – before finally fleeing into the ether. With their fleeing intonations, Jigano would be free to either find some ointment or meander back inside for further directions – unless he thought there was some other debris that needed tending.
Oh, Oliver – who still somehow didn’t pick up the gloves – was at least entirely successful in this attempt, the windows replaced with a firm, although bandaged, hand.
Thereafter, Deimos altered once more, shifting back, sticking his head out of the confines, looking for Jigano, and then proffering further instructions – his eyes sliding over stings and cuts with the briefest shake of his head, the mildest touch of concern and bewilderment. “Now that we have cleared the room of rats, I would like to move the remaining furniture out of there.” Then it could be successfully converted into its newest purpose. “We also need to assemble some new targets out on the training grounds, and the doors need some work.” The apertures were warped, but there were some new boards nearby to assist in the repairs.
--
Hey successful rolls this time!
Pick your next task and get started again – Deimos will be moving furniture!
One person to help move furniture, one person to help assemble targets (you can find any materials you want outside), and the doors need to be replaced.
- until you had blood glistening on your teeth
- until your suffering paled in comparison to their own
- until you learned to enjoy the sounds of screams
