DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Nothing, nothing, nothing, just a series, just a volley, just segments of nuances and configurations they were trying to go off of. He held off the forthcoming sigh, and instead concentrated on getting them out of the caverns and the consequential dead-ends. Let me know if you find anything else. Long sweeping strides turned down corridors, consulting the map briefly when they entered through several other tunnels, familiar path-lines taking hold in the dim lantern light. I can try to help. Not that he’d done much here – but at least he could get them back to Halo safely, before the next tempest struck.
{FIN}
{FIN}
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
