DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
The panther fell, and Deimos gave no care, no indication, of the other beast’s pinned ears, bared teeth; too far gone now, too lost in the rapacity of his condemnation, of his ire, of his searing, unholy sedition. It’d been far too long since he’d been allowed, permitted, to release the seething maelstroms, the carved abhorrence, the fiendish, antagonistic dominion, and in these strangled, ravenous moments, there was no return. He was ice and fire, rage and contempt, a reticent rapier howling unsung violence, yearning to tear the fool apart; minatory enticement, overwhelming, overbearing, eldritch treachery.
What could’ve been brotherly, comrades-in-arms motions had long since been sundered and stained; this was merely the inevitable, the ominous declarations of lost souls and mutilated lives. With Deimos’ mass towering over him now, the push upon his shoulders was like nothing, only a glancing thought as he slid and then repositioned, ferocity given over and smothering, consuming, what little compassion was left in his cold, withered heart. He maneuvered one paw to press in on the panther’s neck, along windpipes, to strangle-hold breathing, to asphyxiate. He yearned for the panic in the fiend’s eyes, for the widening stare, for those brief instances where he thought he might die by Deimos’ motives; like all the others he’d rendered obsolete and gone. Sunjata’s words were nothing; paltry, minute, trifles, too little too late, naught to refute the circumstances, the I didn’t mean to such a waste of a thought. His actions had led to all of these circumstances, combined with idiocy, with ignorance, with foolhardy discontent. And now four were dead. The Sword’s deepened tones ran on in his chest, rumbled through the attuned bond, every syllable a cold, desolate blade. You are selfish and reckless, and everyone else has to suffer for it.
The Reaper would’ve seen the killing blow right before his eyes, and dealt it. There’d be no other warnings, no other ultimatums. A threat removed, gone, vanquished, never to touch or tarnish another in his midst. The temptation was there, existing in the press of his mind, in the weight of his paw. The only thing that saved Sunjata from more pain, from more inflictions, was a promise the Sword had made to the Shield.
He lifted his limb, and uttered one command. Leave. The rest of the warnings and ultimatums would exist there, in between the ether of woodland and carcasses – not needing to be said or spoken. This was only chance he’d ever receive from the General.
Seemingly worlds apart, but realistically not far at all, Oliver’s luck had completely, utterly, run out. The outcry of birds might have fallen upon deaf or all-too-knowing ears, but no one advanced towards him except the pheasants. The roar did make the male hesitate, but he continued to flap his wings, to insist upon Oliver leaving, beak striving to peck in all directions, a driving, unrelenting force of fowl. Oliver’s paw swept towards him, knocking him off his chosen path, saving the beast’s eyes. The females made quite the racket, fluttering and flying off into the brush again, quite done with today’s antics.
Dragons might have been overkill for deer, but based upon today’s prey, it might’ve been the only reasonable solution. Rance’s tactics of herding deer in Jigano’s direction worked wonderfully, several smaller does fleeing in blind panic towards draconic tails, one in particular making her leap far too late, and tripping, skittering, across the soil.
--
Though Sunjata tried to push Deimos off again, it only worked for a moment, Deimos coming right back. In return, Deimos pressed a paw upon his windpipe, releasing him thereafter, and told him to leave.
Oliver’s eyes haven’t been pecked out! He lost his chance with the female pheasants, butOliver knocked the male pheasant off to the side. Is this your opportunity to finally be rid of that incredibly vicious animal?
TeamRance and Jigano has finally had more success! Rance’s flying towards the deer steered several in Jigano’s direction, and the dragon’s tail has tripped a young, dim doe.
No post order!
What could’ve been brotherly, comrades-in-arms motions had long since been sundered and stained; this was merely the inevitable, the ominous declarations of lost souls and mutilated lives. With Deimos’ mass towering over him now, the push upon his shoulders was like nothing, only a glancing thought as he slid and then repositioned, ferocity given over and smothering, consuming, what little compassion was left in his cold, withered heart. He maneuvered one paw to press in on the panther’s neck, along windpipes, to strangle-hold breathing, to asphyxiate. He yearned for the panic in the fiend’s eyes, for the widening stare, for those brief instances where he thought he might die by Deimos’ motives; like all the others he’d rendered obsolete and gone. Sunjata’s words were nothing; paltry, minute, trifles, too little too late, naught to refute the circumstances, the I didn’t mean to such a waste of a thought. His actions had led to all of these circumstances, combined with idiocy, with ignorance, with foolhardy discontent. And now four were dead. The Sword’s deepened tones ran on in his chest, rumbled through the attuned bond, every syllable a cold, desolate blade. You are selfish and reckless, and everyone else has to suffer for it.
The Reaper would’ve seen the killing blow right before his eyes, and dealt it. There’d be no other warnings, no other ultimatums. A threat removed, gone, vanquished, never to touch or tarnish another in his midst. The temptation was there, existing in the press of his mind, in the weight of his paw. The only thing that saved Sunjata from more pain, from more inflictions, was a promise the Sword had made to the Shield.
He lifted his limb, and uttered one command. Leave. The rest of the warnings and ultimatums would exist there, in between the ether of woodland and carcasses – not needing to be said or spoken. This was only chance he’d ever receive from the General.
Seemingly worlds apart, but realistically not far at all, Oliver’s luck had completely, utterly, run out. The outcry of birds might have fallen upon deaf or all-too-knowing ears, but no one advanced towards him except the pheasants. The roar did make the male hesitate, but he continued to flap his wings, to insist upon Oliver leaving, beak striving to peck in all directions, a driving, unrelenting force of fowl. Oliver’s paw swept towards him, knocking him off his chosen path, saving the beast’s eyes. The females made quite the racket, fluttering and flying off into the brush again, quite done with today’s antics.
Dragons might have been overkill for deer, but based upon today’s prey, it might’ve been the only reasonable solution. Rance’s tactics of herding deer in Jigano’s direction worked wonderfully, several smaller does fleeing in blind panic towards draconic tails, one in particular making her leap far too late, and tripping, skittering, across the soil.
--
Though Sunjata tried to push Deimos off again, it only worked for a moment, Deimos coming right back. In return, Deimos pressed a paw upon his windpipe, releasing him thereafter, and told him to leave.
Oliver’s eyes haven’t been pecked out! He lost his chance with the female pheasants, but
Team
No post order!
still standing
not because you can
but because you have to
