[PQ] (HUNT) i put on my robe and wizard's hat

DEIMOS Delivered from the blasts The bait was effective: no sooner had the smell of blood contorted along the routes and pathways, then there was the skittering noise of clawed feet, sketching their way down marble and stone. He inhaled, drew a breath, listening as the screeches grew louder and louder, looking for the outlines, the silhouettes, in Ronin’s torch. Instinctively, his hand drew his sword out of its scabbard, glistening metallic schisms and catalysts against the firelight, waiting for his opportunity. Zuriel, for her part, was no slouch – the depths of her eyes scanning along the darkened portal, reaching out to the warrior’s mind when one came near. Deimos reacted instantly, military mind, abhorrent aggression, aiming to slice at one approaching from the ground to his right, the keen, belligerent edges of the weapon intending to lacerate, decimate, in quick, swift accord. Another decided to try and assault from behind, and was given the same regard – intending for vehement accuracy and meticulousness in his advances, in his anarchy, in his sedition. the last of a line of lasts