you've gotta be so cold to make it in this world
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 34 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 74 - Dext: 74 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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Posts: 6,746 | Total: 10,909
MP: 6754
#6
DEIMOS
The Sword wouldn’t think of the Naturals as barbarians; he’d been much the same with hunting, ensuring every portion and piece of an animal could be utilized, rather than wasted. It was simply his sentimentality bleeding and beckoning through, a strain, a difficulty, in condemning a creature that had provided so much in other lands. So his notions were straightforward at first, lacking in the torture, the screams, the howls, the claws of LongNight’s demons, infidels, and shapeshifters, in the treacherous wake of everything that damned week stood for. “Their light keeps the monsters away.” Kept them consuming the world whole, from ravaging the shelters, the barricades, the ramparts, until they were too dim, too numb, and let the nightmares in. “We lured them by singing, apples, and hay.” Which perhaps made it more personal – even if they didn’t care for his presence, even if the darker incantations of his soul made them nervous, edgy. “If they had not been there the year our shelter burnt down,” the guild he’d sent to the ground, full of the infidels, “I doubt we would have made it.”

A shrug maneuvered through his shoulders, the explanation finished, piercing eyes sliding out over the horizon again, listening to the frequency of Noah’s trips, making mental notes of the pursuits. He might’ve angled into more inquiries, especially over the formations of Deepfrost, but then another noise punctured through his senses, and he raised his head, shifting in the direction of the nuances –

Ursurs, a pair, wandering in from the east, noses in the air, either sniffing them out, or the herd nearby. His figure tensed, ready for something, anything, within those arches of potential danger. What do you want to do? Presuming the hunter would’ve spotted, seen them too – and the machinations began to turn, churn. He could always try and compel them away, as he’d done in the caverns while they searched for mageglass – but perhaps Noah, with more experience, knew what was required.

Otherwise, he’d likely default to damnation and demolition.
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving


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RE: you've gotta be so cold to make it in this world - by Deimos - 12-31-2020, 06:12 PM

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