DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
It was a waiting game again; to see if Sunjata would adhere to his demands, to his commands, or give him another excuse, opportunity, or chance to maim, rip, and tear. His narrowed eyes took in every movement, ever notion, unaware of the weight his words might have reverberated through centuries or years: only resounding them in the here and now, in the sweeping turns of mistakes and stupidity. He glanced upon the wounds, the spiral, the sinking of blood into the turf, wondered if the beast wanted more, if the cold shackles tethered and lined to his own columns and limbs mattered. Minimal, miniscule vengeance, when it could’ve, should’ve, been so much more.
The hiss was enough – feral and pained – and he witnessed as the panther slunk away, not bothering to chase. His point had been clear. On those decibels, and then the range of silence, the Sword maneuvered back to the fallen deer, to the carcass forgotten about in his quest for rebuttal. He grabbed hold of it by the neck between his powerful jaws, and began the laborious act of delivering it to the wagon, losing and tripping over it a few times before he found a certain rhythm to the movements; used to smaller prey, bags, or simply using his own two hands.
Jigano’s chosen doe had no prospects or likelihoods of evading his draconic jaws: life ending in one final, bleak, miserable call, and then snuffed out, bloodied and gone. It’d probably be easy to carry back to the cart, based on the dragon’s sheer size alone.
Rance, on the other hand, failed to muster any turn or shift of deer back towards Jigano. In fact, it registered the exact opposite, a prominent stag doing his best to ensure a portion of his herd remained clustered in the other direction, fast, swift, fleet of foot, dashing through their familiar terrain and undergrowth. Before long, there were only a few doddling, slower, older ones left. Would they present one last chance?
The pheasant revolution persisted uponOliver – and despite his call to predator ambitions, the reigning of instincts clattering over his more-gentle nature, the male fowl was a match for him. Not to be outdone, not to be waylaid, not to be triumphed over, the big, brash, tough bird evaded claws, extending his plumage, his wings, in order to look bigger, broader, badder. He’d already developed his reputation with the previous hunters, and this cat wasn’t going to be any different for him. He then flew directly at Oliver’s face, intending to gauge at eyes, at fur, at any features he could get ahold of, with sharp, menacing talons.
--
Sunjata has left, and Deimos is heading back to the wagon with their deer.
Jigano has successfully killed his doe, but Rance has failed to herd any more near him. There are only a few of the older, slower deer left!
Oliver’s luck has run out again. The pheasant won’t leave him alone, and has gone in to do some major damage to Oliver’s face.
No post order!
The hiss was enough – feral and pained – and he witnessed as the panther slunk away, not bothering to chase. His point had been clear. On those decibels, and then the range of silence, the Sword maneuvered back to the fallen deer, to the carcass forgotten about in his quest for rebuttal. He grabbed hold of it by the neck between his powerful jaws, and began the laborious act of delivering it to the wagon, losing and tripping over it a few times before he found a certain rhythm to the movements; used to smaller prey, bags, or simply using his own two hands.
Jigano’s chosen doe had no prospects or likelihoods of evading his draconic jaws: life ending in one final, bleak, miserable call, and then snuffed out, bloodied and gone. It’d probably be easy to carry back to the cart, based on the dragon’s sheer size alone.
The pheasant revolution persisted upon
--
Sunjata has left, and Deimos is heading back to the wagon with their deer.
Jigano has successfully killed his doe, but Rance has failed to herd any more near him. There are only a few of the older, slower deer left!
Oliver’s luck has run out again. The pheasant won’t leave him alone, and has gone in to do some major damage to Oliver’s face.
No post order!
still standing
not because you can
but because you have to
