DEIMOS
we've all got blood on our hands
something somewhere had to die
so we could stay alive
He listened, attention to the tasks and not on much else; here to assist in the improvement of the community, in some fundamental contortions and needs openly regarded in necessity. He shrugged at the joke; considering how much dirt he’d sifted last year – a wry comment stuck somewhere in his throat. The General opted for the irrigation contortions, lacking in all the other traits – soldier days well ahead of farmer exploits. Wielding a sword had been first and foremost on their prerogatives as a nation, as a world, and everything else tossed along the wayside. Regardless, he could certainly try and offer his invocations where they might be useful. “I can help create some funnels for the channels.” To direct the water? They might need any number of them, if there were some distance between the rivulet and the field. The beast turned, intending to follow the pathway to the mentioned rivulet, and focus his energies on the distance, on the expanse, on the amount of magic it would take to ensure a water’s journey – palms already glowing and gilded in concentration, lengthening out appropriate, sort-of makeshift piping and tubing, a way for the source to trickle down towards the fields. --
Deimos picks helping with irrigation and starts to make some kind of piping/tubing.
