DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Between reinforcing Citadel walls, tending to guild business, training his fellow warriors, and implementing segments for the skyport, there’d been little time for him to simply sit down in his office. Preparations for war loomed and had become almost the driving force behind each and every notion, and the layers of sketches and designs across his desk mirrored and reflected it; neat and uniform outlines of trebuchets and ballistas, right down to the segments of quivers for newly enhanced crossbows.
Given the minute amount of time, he snagged at the pendant Safrin had made for him, pondering on the lengths in which he could improve it. Even then, he sketched out a few notes on the side of a paper, while Zuriel and Belial stretched out before the hearth; comforted for the fact that they weren’t moving at a rapid pace anywhere.
Given the minute amount of time, he snagged at the pendant Safrin had made for him, pondering on the lengths in which he could improve it. Even then, he sketched out a few notes on the side of a paper, while Zuriel and Belial stretched out before the hearth; comforted for the fact that they weren’t moving at a rapid pace anywhere.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
