DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
The ones with success in their scrambling for prey all managed to segment together – the pile on the cart numbering two deer, one pheasant, though sorely lacking Sunjata or Oliver’s entities amongst them. The tiger nodded to both dragon and raven, after ensuring his own doe was laden upon the cart. Well done, he offered as compliments, eyes flickering down upon the stock. He had hoped for more, honestly, but with the formidable nature of the animals within the woods, and a certain scarcity with just their presence within the thickets, it would have to do. The hides could be utilized, and the food could be stored, frozen, and maintained for the upcoming winter, especially to those who decided to brave the spells of LongNight. Sunjata left by way of explaining the lack of the panther, which while not necessarily a lie, didn’t embody the entire reason of why. He had no intention of proclaiming the reason either.
Instead, he was subsequently distracted by Oliver’s message through their attuned bonds; almost a blunt expression of assault and siege upon the air. Something keen to either frustration or disappointment segmented its way into the General’s bones, into his mettle, and sought to maneuver, answer in return. Where are you?; in case Oliver required a rescue.
Oliver, meanwhile, might have run into some sort of luck. While his paws and claws missed again, the pheasant’s wild rampage did too, talons intending to grip his head slipped through the air, and the fowl simply continued on, into the brush. Perhaps by pure circumstance, or realizing his flock had cleared out of the way, out of range, once more, the male intended to evade and escape, ducking deep into thorns and nettles, following the scents of his own.
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Rance, Jigano, and Deimos have successfully added to the cart’s stockpile.
Oliver missed, but so did the pheasant, and the bird intends to escape into the underbrush.
Oliver first, please, and then hopefully we can wrap this up!
Instead, he was subsequently distracted by Oliver’s message through their attuned bonds; almost a blunt expression of assault and siege upon the air. Something keen to either frustration or disappointment segmented its way into the General’s bones, into his mettle, and sought to maneuver, answer in return. Where are you?; in case Oliver required a rescue.
Oliver, meanwhile, might have run into some sort of luck. While his paws and claws missed again, the pheasant’s wild rampage did too, talons intending to grip his head slipped through the air, and the fowl simply continued on, into the brush. Perhaps by pure circumstance, or realizing his flock had cleared out of the way, out of range, once more, the male intended to evade and escape, ducking deep into thorns and nettles, following the scents of his own.
--
Oliver missed, but so did the pheasant, and the bird intends to escape into the underbrush.
still standing
not because you can
but because you have to
