DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Word had spread to the guild of walking palms, and some swift slugs, and while Deimos was far more interested in the former, he approached the Oerwoud with both companions in tow. It’d been more than a brief sojourn, and he half-hoped it’d net some manner of results, where he could sketch the outliers, and add them to the library’s journals.
Belial had taken over clambering his way through canopies and over glens, and though they’d been working on being sneaky, quiet, and furtive, the peryton’s excitement broke hold, and more than once he could be heard sauntering over massive leaves with loud hoots. His antics alone would probably drive any flora or fauna away, meandering or otherwise.
Eventually, they wound their way to the familiar Mistbanks, along mist, fog, and the lake – permitting some measure of relief. Zuriel snorted, and before the Sword could call the carnivorous deer back over to join them, his eyes focused on the surrounding haze.
For he was certain he saw a figure, and the ripples of water nearby. Following the line of his gaze, he recognized the creature, and clenched his jaw. “Do not approach it,” he extended in a rumble, uncertain if the stranger was close enough to hear, but already dreading some notions of the outcome.
Belial had taken over clambering his way through canopies and over glens, and though they’d been working on being sneaky, quiet, and furtive, the peryton’s excitement broke hold, and more than once he could be heard sauntering over massive leaves with loud hoots. His antics alone would probably drive any flora or fauna away, meandering or otherwise.
Eventually, they wound their way to the familiar Mistbanks, along mist, fog, and the lake – permitting some measure of relief. Zuriel snorted, and before the Sword could call the carnivorous deer back over to join them, his eyes focused on the surrounding haze.
For he was certain he saw a figure, and the ripples of water nearby. Following the line of his gaze, he recognized the creature, and clenched his jaw. “Do not approach it,” he extended in a rumble, uncertain if the stranger was close enough to hear, but already dreading some notions of the outcome.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
