[KQ] What Lies Beneath

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

Zuriel, almost a haughty version of the Sword, indicated her notions of Jigano with a disdainful look while Deimos merely nodded again – and when everyone accompanying the ventures had joined, not tucking himself into the banter, they motioned forward, down into the depths of the Underground. He drew several blades and placed them along his belt, following lantern light and pathways, recalling the trap Emmett had found himself within, his remains lodged behind fallen rocks and fissures, clenching his jaw in thought. His senses were drawn and tethered to the outset, to what lurked and lain beneath the shrouds and veils of darkness, to experiences well recalled in his mind, Zuriel following suit, accompanying with sharpened eyes and ignited potential. The skittering was heard; little nails on stone, claws on rock, and immediately the predator, raptorial predilections took over his form, taut and tethered and bound into warrior tactics. He offered a blade to each, then drew his own, kept it tight in his fist, the pommel nestled into well-earned callouses, familiar and harpooning. At their pause, the General’s eyes flickered to Jigano, a nod indicating he knew, he understood, they’d seen it all before – ROUs incoming. They weren’t to be avoided; perhaps drawn to the light or to the notion of fresh, new blood. He could hear one above him, like they’d done before, and he unleashed a torrent of deadly invocations along the ceiling, hoping to cease and desist any trickling forward, towards kin and allies. Perhaps some remembered him, because none seemed to maneuver towards his stance – not like it mattered. He’d go after them regardless. Zuriel seemed to find the entire notion of being assaulted as a personal affront, using it to unleash some sensation of disaster and ruin. Where she was usually content to be a peaceful, tranquil, serene individual, it was likely all a pretense – with a flattened look and a foreboding snort, she unleashed her particular brand of hell, swinging her horn to either skewer the rat or slash it into ribbons. Her hooves were also a formidable weapon, stomping across the floor with indicated relish. Deimos suspected she was having a grand time – if her excitement rushing through their connection was any indication. The Sword used this opportunity to unhinge violence too – all exasperations and frustrations from other moments unfurled in a brilliant haze, choosing to strike at one of the cretins closest to Kiada with his blade, infusing brawn and rage and blistering contortions into the efforts. -- Deimos offers weapons to everyone. He uses his life drain magic on any rats trying to get by him via the ceiling. He slashes at one of the ROUs trying to attack Kiada. Zuriel intends to completely mutilate the ROU attacking her, either by horn or hooves. For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate