[Seasonal Event] Good Gourd

Deimos the Reaper You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this long and lonely road to hell the throne must be such a sad and lonely place The Reaper threaded his way through the streets, roaming, brooding, and contemplating, a contortion of ominous menace and presiding curiosity. His main ambition had been to settle over an area to perhaps either build his own shelter or restore one that had since lost its purpose, for while he didn’t mind lingering in the footholds of the wilderness, there was a particular notion to a sanctuary, a haven, that comforted his senses. He first thought of mountains, the calculating chill behind peaks and valleys, sweeping through caverns and glaciers, but none had been in the surroundings, and he’d yet to fully explore the vast holdings of this foreign land. So his piercing, penetrating gaze had swept and combed over with a vicious speculation and inspection along the alleyways, intending to find something to abide his form of home. He lifted his head at a peculiar noise; rolling gourds, vegetables marching down to haunt their newest victim. The beast managed to release a soft sigh, mind whirling and pondering over how long their escapades would last, or how many still lingered, fighting their way into onslaught after onslaught. What was their purpose: pumpkin domination? The thought mustered a brief snicker across his face, and he thought about moving along, continuing on his warrior way. He would’ve done so had his gaze not caught sight of someone actually trapped beneath a hoard of the more violent, ferocious gourds, and his march altered direction without hesitation. His movements and motions were deliberately threatening, a cold, detached gaze, an eldritch stance, a barbaric, savage step, and he took no time in arriving near the stranger, fending off one attack with a ferocious kick. The squash managed to fly through the air and hit a nearby wall, and Deimos repeated the pattern with obvious fervor, enjoying the fiendish array of violence, the simplicity of each murderous gesture. “You all right?” He murmured between more punts and jolts, reaching down to grab ahold of one vegetable who intended to climb and nibble his boots.

_{Photo and Table by Time
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary}