DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Perhaps Talyson’s trail of thought would’ve been segmented into certainty – had Deimos’ loyalty not been given over to Safrin. That was an allegiance in itself. The Sword had no intention of backing out of his faith, beliefs, foundations, and adherence – and so, much like the rest of the stronghold, he’d be expected to traverse amidst impending, and grim, challenges. Maybe he’d be proven wrong (it’d happened before), so he merely shrugged his shoulders at the response, rising from the stump and walking back to the first catapult.
Crouching slightly under one of its mechanical levers, he pulled and tugged on a few broken and rotted proportions that hadn’t been replaced yet, as Talyson began to consider magical weaponry. Infusing several Earthen incantations into the timber, his calculations could air on the possibility of distraction when discussing armaments, and so applied his own basis and potential into the mix. “Do you want to do something offensive or defensive? Elemental?” A blade that could protect the user for a time, that could infuse fire or water or electricity – the possibilities were nearly endless.
Crouching slightly under one of its mechanical levers, he pulled and tugged on a few broken and rotted proportions that hadn’t been replaced yet, as Talyson began to consider magical weaponry. Infusing several Earthen incantations into the timber, his calculations could air on the possibility of distraction when discussing armaments, and so applied his own basis and potential into the mix. “Do you want to do something offensive or defensive? Elemental?” A blade that could protect the user for a time, that could infuse fire or water or electricity – the possibilities were nearly endless.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
