Deimos
THE RESURRECTED SWORD
How did you survive? they ask
How long did you suffer?
how dark did they tint your dreams?They assembled rather quickly, and before long he had three before him: Jigano, because they always seemed to trade assistance, carefully neutral, an arch to his brow at the address, an extended nod to the griffin; no Zuriel in sight today to appease or entertain. The next, one he could only recall as Sunjata (amidst Hotaru’s shop; the flirtation evident, another fool destined to fall into her web, or someone who could rise above – best of luck to him), and then Oliver, recently met within the folds of the Temple, after their sanctuary had been desecrated. He made no mention of the latter, conforming to his stoic, reserved status, though allowing the briefest of smiles to emerge, acknowledging their presence, their willingness to help. “Thank you for coming,” and then he stepped within, extending the invitation into the stone wares and fissuring elements.
It needed some help.
“I would like to have a planning room, a dormitory of sorts, training grounds, and a place for armory and munitions.” He allowed them a moment to glance beyond the entrance, and into the extended front portion, where there could’ve been an elongated table, maps, and any other warrior tactics unfolded - currently, carefully blank and empty. Further back, there’d be the potential for beds and places for any soldiers to reside, except it was currently full of broken things, and another corridor leading to a wide open space for weapon purposes. The training grounds, likely to be shared with the future Monster Hunter’s Guild, was littered with all kinds of refuse, weeds, and overgrown shambles. Nothing befitting a place to practice. “This room has leaking windows that should be replaced,” his gaze flickered to the glass panes off to the side he’d already made to suit the purpose. “The training grounds are covered in weeds and other debris.” He paused, thoughts causing the slightest smirk to any attuned connections, the potential for devilry and vehemence. “And I would like assistance in eliminating the rat infestation in the armory.”
--
You guys rock! Take your pick!
One person to replace the windows!
One person to rid the debris/weeds/whatever else you find in the training grounds!
One person to help Deimos murder rats!
It needed some help.
“I would like to have a planning room, a dormitory of sorts, training grounds, and a place for armory and munitions.” He allowed them a moment to glance beyond the entrance, and into the extended front portion, where there could’ve been an elongated table, maps, and any other warrior tactics unfolded - currently, carefully blank and empty. Further back, there’d be the potential for beds and places for any soldiers to reside, except it was currently full of broken things, and another corridor leading to a wide open space for weapon purposes. The training grounds, likely to be shared with the future Monster Hunter’s Guild, was littered with all kinds of refuse, weeds, and overgrown shambles. Nothing befitting a place to practice. “This room has leaking windows that should be replaced,” his gaze flickered to the glass panes off to the side he’d already made to suit the purpose. “The training grounds are covered in weeds and other debris.” He paused, thoughts causing the slightest smirk to any attuned connections, the potential for devilry and vehemence. “And I would like assistance in eliminating the rat infestation in the armory.”
--
You guys rock! Take your pick!
One person to replace the windows!
One person to rid the debris/weeds/whatever else you find in the training grounds!
One person to help Deimos murder rats!
- until you had blood glistening on your teeth
- until your suffering paled in comparison to their own
- until you learned to enjoy the sounds of screams
