tides of thunder
for Sunjata
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#1
remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
With the barracks completed but otherwise empty of contents, the Sword had applied himself early in the morning. He’d begun along the front room, inspecting the table for anything glaring or out of place, hands unfolding to embellish a map similar to the one he’d created for Wessex, which felt like lifetimes ago when it’d been barely a season, of the Hollowed Grounds, placing it like chess pieces and boards across the sanction. Thereafter, he settled in and amongst the armory, adjusting pieces here and there, shifting, designing, and altering different swords, daggers, and knives, hanging a few along the wall that might’ve taken up too much room otherwise.

By the time he’d marched onto the training grounds, gathering his sights at the targets, at the lines of potential, the slightest of smirks had embedded itself along his mouth; free and liberated to be amused by the scorching annals of prowess. On more whims than anything else, he crouched a fair distance away from one of the painted bullseyes, gilded glow along his palms just another hint of something brewing in his mind. A shape formed beneath his touch, one seemingly ancient in its existence, but a contortion out of his memory, out of his experiences, out of the fringes of the battlefield: a catapult. It was of moderate size; no need for a massive siege engine in the middle of their fields, but the wheeled, wooden ballistic device was savored all the same, meant to launch projectiles without any other means but physics. Could it be utilized for greater assaults, if necessary, down the road? The General shrugged at the notion, keeping any diabolical endeavors under wraps, and aimed to test it. He didn’t contort or unravel any cannons, but several stones resting nearby made great work of stored, potential energy; placed in the threshold, while he tugged back on the handle, releasing it towards the target.
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#2
but the darker the weather, the better the man
you can take all you want
In an effort to keep himself busy, to not drink the bar out of what reserves it had before he had to go and chat with Remi or the other merchants in the area, Sunjata finds himself deciding to train. Like he had once before, back in Korofi on long nights of arguments with his father, long nights in the underground with Lusea and the rebels, long nights even after when there wasn’t much else to do. He feels a small amount better today at least, having restrained from drinking as much the previous nights, and he slips from the bar toward the barracks he’d helped put together. His sleek black bow slung over his shoulder, arrows he’s made with his own feathers to sport blues and blacks, he looks absolutely the part.

Slipping around the corner to the training grounds, he can see someone create something, spark it to life and let it fly — all surprises with a hint of bewilderment at seeing a catapult here in all places. He’s certain he doesn’t look quite as well as he had the previous times the other tall man had seen him, but he still pastes on the best smirk he can muster, shifting the bow over his shoulder. “Ah, so training now includes blowing things to oblivion.” He calls out to Deimos, making his way over before eyeing it with interest.

I like it.” At least it’s something to keep him focused, to get out some of his anger and frustration. He only hopes the other man doesn’t notice so much.
but not who i am
SuNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#3
remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
There were distant hazes and memories in his eyes for a scattering of moments – the legion of men gathered in their traces, military might and means running rampant across blood-soaked fields, readying anything they could muster into shells and vessels, into vacant arms and absent hands. That was before they fell apart. That was when they believed they were something vengeful, something glorious, something unattainable, unreachable. That was when audacity and boldness clouded and blinded. The images were gone a second after. The catapult’s arm hurled quickly, swiftly, a rapid, obliterating motion full of force and power, and he watched the stones ricochet towards the targets, nearly hitting them, the rocks descending to the ground instead, making indents and pockets in the soil. His eyes narrowed, speculated, turning the arsenal slightly, judging and scrutinizing over where he might have errored in his calculations.

Before he could contemplate or assess the situation any further, another made their presence known, and he lifted his head, riveted his gaze, to maneuvering shadows and a familiar form. He choked back the slightest range of laughter, the feral grin threatening to clamber over his features, simply by way of amusement and schemes. The General made no efforts to warrant discussion of Hotaru, he thought taunting should’ve been reserved for the Valkyrie, and simply permitted a ghost of a smile to etch along the edges of his mouth. “Testing. Experimenting.” If he wanted to truly blow things to oblivion, he could do so - had - when fire clambered from his presence, when it roared and decimated, when it seethed and curled and he controlled every ounce of its vehement, capricious existence. But at least Sunjata appeared to approve.

He moved back from the catapult, eyes going to the Stygian bow he’d made him only days before. “You are welcome to try.”
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#4
but the darker the weather, the better the man
you can take all you want
If anyone can appreciate a decent amount of destruction, it’s Sunjata. And he’s not surprised, as soon as he arrives and offers his own small amount of greeting, of mentioning training with explosions and destroying of things to be something he absolutely enjoyed, he can’t help but to notice the hint of a smile that crosses Deimos’ face at that. Testing. He says. Experimenting. He says. And Sunjata wonders which home, which location in Caido this might come in handy with. A warning, of sorts.

It passes, however, the casual smirk crossing his lips as he focuses on the construction of it, the utility, the possibilities of it all. And when Deimos mentions that he’s welcome to try, well, Sunjata offers an accented chuckle of his own to the other man. “Oh, don’t mind if I do.” He says, a sudden amount of excitement slipping through his carefully crafted mask, a light shining through as he grins a bit brighter.

Slipping away from it for a moment, he removes the bow from his shoulders, setting it upside against one of the walls to the barracks, arms loosening and stretching as he returns to adjust the catapult and figure out how the aiming works, before he spots the rocks Deimos had used for it and grabs one of those as well – hefting it into the catapult. “Back in Korofi, we had these. They were a bit bigger.” He rumbles in jest, grin forming a bit wider as he aims and lets the catapult arm swing – watching the rock sail into the sky before it pummels one of the targets he’d made, right in the chest.

He moves aside for Deimos to continue on his side, amusement lingering in his face at that. “These aim much better though.
but not who i am
SuNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#5
remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
Deimos could think of a multitude of things to utilize the catapult for – most detrimental, destructive, warnings, ultimatums, ensued and issued to burgeoning adversaries once thought gone. It’d been better off that way, the calm after the storm, before a range of other dramatic insurgencies. If it was effectual at all, then he could always create more, arm them as havoc and wreckage forces, embody them as fellow comrades, bastions of mayhem and ruin. It had been too long since he’d spurned another kingdom, another world, another vantage point – a call of some wilderness, some untamed, savage, infernal, rapacious edge to him, to issue threats and ominous volleys too, just as they’d been pressed into them. No more taking of foreboding bits and pieces. No more potential for peril shoved down their throats or into their spines. They could proclaim the warnings now. As the Reaper, he’d only ever give them in singular form. Leave, a command, a demand. And when they’d failed to depart, it’d been the eldritch incantations unfurling from his core, from his soul, from every vestige of his existence. Those parts wouldn’t be erased or eroded.

Sunjata accepted the offer, and the beast stepped clear out of the way, arms folded to watch. Perhaps this man was savage too, under all the subterfuge and smirks; if that was what enticed Hotaru, if there were other layers and lacquer beyond the surface. His eyes riveted from the swinging arm, to the stones gathered, the rumbling forming a backdrop, a canvas, of history. “We had these in Isilme too. And siege towers.” For as much good as they’d done, for as long as they’d held on. “Thought I would try a smaller version first.” A shrug; curiosity exchanged on Korofi, what sort of land it was, what sort of soldier this individual must’ve been.

The rock sailed, crashing soundly into one of the targets, ricocheting through blades of woven grass, a barreling hole whistling through, concaved, as if the material had been nothing. For an instant, his gaze and smirk sharpened, Cheshire with a hint of malice and menace, reserved for those who would dare to provoke or instigate at them again. It slipped away quickly though, content and satisfied with the operation, but yearning to try for himself once more. He grabbed hold of a few more stones, hastening them to the vessel, listening to the clink of their surface against the grain; then fired, the aim still true. It seared and simmered, only for the target’s head this time, a raw chuckle escaping from his throat as the makeshift cranium was blown apart.
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#6
but the darker the weather, the better the man
you can take all you want
Perhaps the Hollowed Grounds wouldn’t have so much to stand on if there were more of these around – to threaten, the inspire, to spark the desires of the few over the many. Regardless, the thoughts fizzle and shift back down within him at the thoughts, the meeting having just happened – yet another shift in leadership that he couldn’t find the feet to stand on yet, to gather an opinion. All he knew was that he hated any form of monarchies, that after having been a part of one, it was enough that he wished to garner a large berth from it.

The thoughts all dissipate, however, as he uses the catapult and sends a rock careening into the chest of one of the training dummies, a wolfish grin crossing his face at the result before he steps back to give Deimos room to let his soar and sail as well. And he listens for the other man’s rumble, hearing the name Isilme and finding it to be just as foreign as many likely thought of Korofi. It was no matter, in the end. But the mention of the smaller ones has Sunjata snorting, head tilting slightly as he focuses on the rock that sails into the targets, right off the head, and the Korofi man makes a rather eeesh kind of sound, before a deep chuckling sound leaves him. “You’re well practiced.” He offers with a sleek, sly smile.

When it is his turn again, he grabs another rock, this time aiming for the tiny bits left behind of the dummy they’ve mostly destroyed. A brow raised slightly, steel eyes squinting against the sun as he focuses. “I’m afraid I’m a bit rusty.” He jests, hoping the rock will hit the rest of the target and blow it to oblivion, but it’s almost as though his words sail in the air with the rock as he launches it – watching it slip through the cracks of what’s left, to fall into a cloud of dust and dirt after.

He steps back, arms wide with a shrug before his hands fall to his side and he shakes his head, wolfish grin returning to his face as he regards Deimos. “Well, I tried.” He rumbles with a snort, making room for Deimos once more. “So how long have you been here? In Caido?” A question to assess – to see, how did he know Hotaru so well when it was mostly clear the other woman had just arrived.
but not who i am
SuNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#7
remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
Deimos had lived a vast majority of his lives amongst kingdoms. There was always someone dictating, someone demonstrating, someone holding onto pieces and portions of power – and perhaps that was where he’d cultivated sedition in his blood, defiance in his veins, revolution in his ichor. Even when he’d become a sovereign himself, there’d been portions of subversion in his soul, utilized and expressed through their molten vehemence upon others who dared to take, who dared to maim, who dared to do anything to one of their own. But they’d never had outright tyrants. They’d had misguided fools, weak, pathetic, indulgent creatures, grand, noble beasts, and sneaky, cunning, manipulative jesters, and a mixture of everything in between. Zariah had been a particular brand of asinine, miserable, dictator foundations, and he’d detested every moment of it. Never again should’ve been their emblem, their banner now. Time and calculations would tell.

He took some measure of pride in Sunjata’s response, from the eesh sound to the notion of practice. “I take precision seriously.” So that it became muscle memory. So that in the heat of battle, everything could be drawn upon instinct, upon inherent abilities, upon the things already stirred and invoked in movements and motions; abhorrent, vicious poetry in pursuit of devastation and demolition. He’d rather be persistent than floundering, stumbling across a battlefield, twisted and turned around in confusion, in bewildering wonder; no help, no guidance, nothing for the rest of his comrades. A sitting duck, a petulant fool. There was a ghost of a smile along his mouth though, like so many other things altered and destroyed by time, by experience.

The General watched as the man took to trying the weapon again, stepping back, folding his arms, expecting to see the rest of the target completely blown apart. His words might’ve doomed and damned him, no sooner than they were uttered did the rocks simply skitter and crash into dust and dirt, rising plumes of dried earth billowing thereafter. The beast shook his head, the grin still remaining, while he maneuvered forward on his next try.

The Sword made a few adjustments and shifts of the equipment, loading them with more stones as he listened to Sunjata query him – something far too simple, which meant there was likely going to follow-up. He snorted, peeking through wooden contortions, pondering where to aim. “A little over a year now.” A year and a half, really – somehow the seasons had flown when he wasn’t knee deep in his own wasting, eroding melancholy. At the affirmation of his time in Caido, Deimos finally allowed the arm to fly, to reel back, and then unleash ensuing havoc once again. The rocks flew, their force great and grand, smashing into the lower half of the target’s remains, leaving hardly anything in their path – the entire thing falling over to the ground; sputtered and lifeless.
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#8
but the darker the weather, the better the man
you can take all you want
It’s obvious to him that Deimos takes precision seriously, the way the movements seem practiced and familiar as opposed to Sunjata’s own attempts. In the end, he and Lusea had been along those front lines, calling for the catapults to be used, having not pulled the arm themselves. They’d had guns then, his favorite pistols and her favorite sawed off shotgun. He shrugs lightly as he takes his attempt, watching it fail and falter into the dust and dirt, a hum of amusement leaving him.

I’m better with a gun.” He rumbles with a playful smirk that crosses his face. Still, it can’t hurt to learn, and despite his failed attempt he watches Deimos let the next catapult shot fly, watching as it takes out the rest of the target as his questions reach the air. And he’s glad for it, suddenly, as Deimos tells him over a year.

He makes his way near to try again at a new target, shifting and adjusting the catapult to aim at the other one while he mulls it over. “Longheat will be my first year anniversary here.” He rumbles thoughtfully. “Hotaru tells me she’s arrived recently in comparison.” Steel eyes shift toward Deimos then with a curious look crossing his face.

Seems like you two know each other longer than that, but I haven’t asked her. Are you two from the same world?” More importantly, ’what should I know about her?’ They’d been too busy with talk of Advocates and Lusea and sharing a small amount of loneliness with one another that he hadn’t brought it up — yet wherever in public the Valkyrie was, it was always near the Sword. Letting his words fly in the air, he lets the arm go again, watching the rocks as they pelt the face of the next target, sheeting and ripping fabric with an amused sly smile before he steps back and lets Deimos take over again.
but not who i am
SuNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#9
remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
Fluid; despite his size, his motions had always been fluid, practiced, skills inherent, fortified in each extension of his limb, in each ruthless endeavor, whether it be weapon or manifested incantations. It was one of the few artistic skills he possessed, despite Jigano’s arguments and contributions to the subject; the ability to paint the world in bloodshed, in ichor, in ruin, effortless, seamless, fine-tuned and layered across battlefield canvases and tapestries. It’d been held at bay here, where there were far fewer wars and far more diplomatic or pious efforts at work, where he tread lightly, carefully, ignorant to the majority of those entanglements. However, Sunjata’s insinuation over some other munition (by the sounds of it), left him wound into the unknown too. Curious, his eyes narrowed, nearly catlike in their inquisition, over the rumble of another target decimated. “What is a gun?” His familiarity with a multitude of means towards destruction could always utilize another fervor, another notch, something else to concoct, create, and then implement for either himself or the rest of the world he was meant to defend.

The grin suddenly appearing behind Sunjata’s back, as he adjusted, as he took aim at another mark, was undoubtedly Cheshire, mischief unfurled, unraveled, as Hotaru’s name cropped up again. It sounded like digging, like asking, innocently, without airs, but Deimos wasn’t one to settle into such pretenses. He managed to stifle a rumble of laughter, choking it down when the other man’s eyes swept towards him again, and the entire folly was dropped – features reserved once more, pondering which part to play now. The reticent, nonchalant, apathetic Reaper? The chiseled apart Sword? To refrain from giving too much away, to meander and revel in the nuances of vengeance? The devilry in his gaze might’ve given himself over, had he not pinpointed it to the ripping of fabric, the stones breech upon the latest goal. “Yes.”

Yes, they were from the same world.

But he offered naught more – waiting for the strands to unravel, waiting for Sunjata to truly get to the heart of the matter, withholding because it endlessly amused him. He rarely had opportunities like this.

The beast staked his claim on the same target, loading more stones, and drawing the arm back. He calculated again, maneuvered it back some, tilting his head in the meticulous, scrupulous examination. Then the General released – but as the stones sailed through the air, he’d clearly maneuvered it one too many paces away, for they fell slightly short, skittering in front of the target, placing large dents into the ground. His own fault; the details not entirely etched in the earth. He snorted and rolled his eyes, maneuvering aside for Sunjata’s turn.
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#10
but the darker the weather, the better the man
you can take all you want
What is a gun?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but there’s a part of him that tries to remember how he explained it to Loren, how to explain something nobody has ever seen. And he’s suddenly reminded of Phoebe explaining what snow was and how the Korofi man couldn’t quite grasp the information from it. There’s a wry smile that crosses his face at the question, and his head tilts slightly as he figures out just how to mention what it was. “They’re typically small, held easily in one hand. They’re like a bow but faster, louder, more powerful. There’s a bullet full of gunpowder inside and when you pull the trigger, there’s a part that explodes the bullet within the barrel and it shoots out wherever you aim, like an arrow.” He explains the best he can, hoping it makes sense. “Been shot by an arrow and a gun, and I can say the bullet hurt much worse.” He rumbles, Hans absentmindedly moving to his side above the cut Lusea has stitched and left scarring for the scar of a bullet.

But he’s aiming now, watching it sail through the sky and hitting the target with a pleased snort that leaves him, and he asks of Hotaru as soon as he steps back — letting Deimos snicker and chuckle behind him at the question, answering simply as the other man steps up to the catapult. A simple yes and Sunjata has to fight to keep from rolling his eyes. It’s like that, then, he supposes with an amused smirk landing on his face.

Deimos misses next and Sunjata returns to the catapult with a precise gleam to his eye, though it matters little as the rocks sail and do the same as Deimos’ did, a scattering and pile beginning to form in front of the target. He too snorts and steps back, steel eyes drifting toward the Sword. “Has she always been so great at finding out things she shouldn’t?” He rumbles, awaiting a simple one word answer before he snorts and inhales deeply. “Just want an idea of what I’m getting into.” Certainly he could understand that. And with Hotaru working as an Advocate — perhaps Deimos may notice the glint of a silver bracelet on his wrist that matches her own — he wants an even playing field.
but not who i am
SuNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#11
remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
The General tried to imagine the notion of a gun; small, held in one hand, faster, louder, and more potent than a bow, utilizing bullets full of gunpowder, some incendiary device – brows furrowing. Perhaps more out of comfort than understanding, he still melded himself with favoritism towards those he held experience with, had seen utilized, had been made a weapon in the palm of his hands, had lacerated and brutalized men he considered adversaries and enemies. Still, the intrigue continued, due to the newness, the foreign nature of it all.  “Can it shoot as far as a bow?” Was there a specific range? He’d seen particularly inclined archers pick off opponents and rivals from a lengthy distance – were these guns and bullets any better? “Or as accurate?” Should they have been imploring their creative methods into these munitions instead? His eyes glanced at the catapult, a certain fondness for its exploding, deadly endeavors etching its way into his chest; pushing all the thoughts aside for more target practice.

Sunjata’s didn’t hit the mark either, and he muffled a softer ring of laughter simply by their bizarre, fizzled luck; misfortune or poor, misshapen aim. They scattered much the same as his had done, tempted to fizzle into the mark but merely skipping stones in front, and the beast shook his head, going to apply more of his rocks again. Once loaded, he maneuvered the catapult slightly forward, only a few inches, pondering if that had been the simple problem. Applying the notion, he tugged on the arm and sent them flying, unleashed; the rubble and debris finally spinning and volleying into where the target’s shoulder might be. Not as forceful, not as enduring, not as strong; more like a wound, a blemish, a bruise someone could recover from. Maybe if they pulled the arm back harder – his hands went tweaking on the wooden device, listening to the next set of inquiries while he worked.

His snicker was hidden by the device, his face pressed towards the panels and hinges. “Yes. That has always been one of her talents.” For as long as he’d known her, young and capricious, setting her sights on any amount of information she could acquire; enough to steal, enough to abduct, enough to unwind other kingdoms, all those sagacities, all those perilous wisdoms, all those duplicities meant to blind and pillage sovereignties not their own. Deimos couldn’t even hold the chuckle ricocheting from his chest at the last statement. If only the man had any idea what he was getting into. Hotaru was like a sister, family, bonded not by blood, but all the other trials, tribulations, wars, and sanctums they’d crawled and slithered their way through; ichor-stained and rapacious, lifelines and supports no matter how dastardly or wicked they’d become. He wouldn’t give off too many warnings; let her have her fun, her amusements.
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#12
but the darker the weather, the better the man
you can take all you want
Farther in some cases.” He offers to Deimos, pleased by the intrigue the other man offers in response to guns and what they were. “Very accurate. Moves fast enough in some instances where you don’t have to account for wind so much.” He shrugs. “Adam came into Caido with them, the lucky bastard.” He rumbles with a quiet chuckle. He doesn’t even know if Deimos knows Adam, but with the way the man talked and the way he held himself, he feels like he’s been at least heard of before. And that’s something at the end of the day, he supposes.

Deimos then takes aim, and Sunjata watches as the rocks pelt the shoulder, lightly but enough to bruise, to distract from other possibilities. And so he takes the moment to ask about Hotaru, about her tendencies, of her acquiring information somehow, delicate information. And he snorts at Deimos’ response. So in an effort to be casual, Sunjata takes up the mantel and lets his gaze drift over the target once more, focusing a bit further on how to get it to hit before he responds. “She’d make a great spy.” He offers, launching the rocks and watching them sputter in the air and fall just a hair to the left of the target.

Fokken hel.” He rumbles with a quiet laugh and a roll of his eyes, stepping back and shooting a glare at the target before settling and watching Deimos again.
but not who i am
SuNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#13
remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
Very accurate. Farther than a bow. Then why didn’t they have an assemblage, a collection, of those things within these hollowed halls either? Deimos thought about asking, but the moment Sunjata mentioned Adam owning some, any excitement or enthusiasm at the idea lost its appetite. Lucky bastard indeed; lucky Deimos hadn’t thrown him back into the Fae’s pit, lucky he hadn’t been strangled by his own bare hands. Adam’s LongNight impression on him had left a lot to be desired, and a strong sense of tolerance for one of Amalia’s favored. At that notion, the conversation fizzled and died on his tongue, shaking his head, a grumble, a rumble in response that he’d heard, but had naught else suitable to say – ruined and marred.

Hotaru making a great spy was probably one of the greatest understatements of Deimos’ lives, and he choked down another retort, another round of laughter, somewhere down in his chest. Stifled, he had to swallow its nuances into his lungs where it still growled, tucked behind his teeth, looking away and pretending to be fascinated by the rocks sputtering and dying on Sunjata’s latest attempts. “She did. She was a Thief.” Purveyor of secrets and furtive notes, sneaky with her smiles, and matched with Rexanna, there had been no better pair: his world had been armed tooth and nail with swords and knives, cloaks and daggers, a beautiful conflagration waging war from mountaintops. Then he opted to throw the poor man a bone, just to see if he’d squirm. “Then a Queen.” It was also out of amusement and vengeance; since apparently other people had seen fit to continually remark upon his throne. She could take some of the heat.

As if this was naught at all, he continued his work on the machine, pondering if there’d been something loosened, unhinged, when the target still remained. He tinkered around with it some more, pulling at pieces, then tightening again, pulling the arm back as far as he could. Once his turn was filled with rocks, since the edges of the field apparently had them in bounties, he released the catapult’s lever, watched as it swung forward, and then shoved the rocks directly into the earth. “Well,” then he laughed, a bout of chuckles from all the other ones smothered, straight from his abdomen. He shook his head, left only to be impressed by the dents left in the ground.
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#14
but the darker the weather, the better the man
you can take all you want
He has nothing to add to the comment of Adam owning the guns, and Sunjata understands to an extent. Adam could be a bit too much at times, flaunt too much, talk too much, but he was still a member of the Advocates to Sunjata’s knowledge, and a part of him appreciates the man regardless of the questionable choices. At the mention of that, Sunjata shifts the conversation to Hotaru, commenting she’d made a great spy — that’s what Sunjata would have her be, at least. Use the advantage of the things taught to you, like how he had become a face, propaganda time and time again, but enough power and knowledge to back it up.

The mention of her being a Thief, however, takes him a small amount by surprise as he steps back and lets Deimos take over again. He supposes that part makes sense, wondering what things she’d stolen in this strange other land — but the surprises don’t stop there. Not as Deimos mentions she’d been a Queen and Sunjata’s lips curl into a conspirators grin. A Cheshire grin enough to match Deimos’ to a lesser degree. “How long was she Queen?” He asks curiously.

He can’t wait to comment on it.

But Deimos misses, and cackles at the attempt that Sunjata partakes in. Not at Deimos, but at the sheer circumstance that they can’t accurately hit anything time and time again. But that’s why they’re here, right? Practice? To get better and better so they don’t miss? He shrugs to Deimos, sure it’s likely the contraption that’s harboring their inability and not them, themselves, before he steps up to it again, eyeing it curiously. He angles it yet again, shifting the position ever so slightly, pulls the arm back after filling it with more of the endless rocks, and watches as he lets go and the rocks soar just a bit too hard, pelting into the ground far behind the target. He hisses again under his breath before turning to Deimos with a rumble of laughter that leaves him.

I think I’m done before I make too much of a fool of myself.” He rolls his eyes before settling back again.
but not who i am
SuNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.


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