DEIMOS
After their manifestations, machinations, and maneuvers hailed successfully, the Sword pulled away from the earth, and allowed himself a break. While Morgan walked the perimeter, inspecting, the beast coiled long, deep breaths, and he could feel Zuriel reaching in through the bond (maybe with a sneer, maybe with a quiet concern, maybe with a told you so quip of pushing himself too hard). He ignored her with a clench of his jaw and a narrowing of his eyes, warnings, before they moved onto the next task.Ningos.
Deimos had somehow managed to not come across these creatures before, but had heard of Chulane’s wishes and aspirations with them. He wasn’t overly impressed, tilting his head in a particularly predacious way – every inch a beastly faction. But these birds didn’t seem menacing, tempestuous, or dangerous – just a bit foolish and dim. Would there be an effective way to drive them out, without inciting his more minatory predilections? His magic was likely too strong, and potentially damaging, to the winged contortions.
So he’d try a different tactic.
Satchel and tools left aside, the General shifted – tawny wings, vivid plumage, gilded eagle soaring into the skies, and then plunging – intending to look as though he might very well savage and snag at them all, without extending talons, without gripping into prey. He’d lift up again briefly, before descending once more, trying to scare and scatter them off.
--
Deimos shifts into his golden eagle form in order to scare the ningos away.
"who's gonna let you?"
they asked. i said
"who's gonna stop me?"
