DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Successes proclaimed and rang their heads now, easier motions, a fluidity to their triumphs and victories, no matter how small, great, or grand. With Amun’s metallic interlacings, he made short work of any other repairs, and started making sense and semblance of the chaos lingering within the armory. The serrated contortions gave no fight to their different assignations, none of them falling out of a distracted grasp, none of them coming back to bite or haunt; placed neatly amidst their new homes. The blunt instrument too were arranged well with no anguish clambering upon them, neat, efficient, and granted, given, a new order that anyone entering would appreciate. Now all that was left was the armor itself to deal with – laying in a variety of pieces on the floor, and, that hadn’t been given the care they so rightly deserved.
Maybe Aisha’s growling, menace, and temper eventually set the targets to rights and order. Willpower, grit, and some mettle honed in on her methods, eventually ensured the trash discarded, materials capable of being re-used rendered in their proper adornments, and the figures, the goals, the effigies, could be tangible munitions again. They stood upright, firm, and tall, and she should’ve been proud of their regards, had she likely not wanted to throttle them herself (all in due time, of course). The rest of the training grounds remained much the same – and she’d be able to maneuver the targets elsewhere, in order to concentrate on the hole in the wall, or the massive amount of snow in the corner.
The Sword had already ascended a ladder and pieced together portions the old-fashioned way, hammer and nail, loud measures echoing from the timed movements, content with the process. Now and again he’d maneuver over slightly, replacing boards and beams, lining up in scrupulous factions and fragments, certain he wanted it to be the most stable and secure that he could compose and orchestrate; not intending to go through this on multiple occasions. Thereafter, he could begin replacing the boards for the wall itself, rolling up his sleeves, grabbing hold of timber, and re-enacting the efforts.
--
Everyone rolled very nicely!
Deimos is continuing to re-structure the wall.
Aisha has successfully made her targets, and can move onto moving snow or figuring out how to fix the hole in the wall.
Amun has sorted the weapons very nicely, and can start on sorting the armor. I bet its gross. :/
No post order! Next round will move on once everyone has posted!
Maybe Aisha’s growling, menace, and temper eventually set the targets to rights and order. Willpower, grit, and some mettle honed in on her methods, eventually ensured the trash discarded, materials capable of being re-used rendered in their proper adornments, and the figures, the goals, the effigies, could be tangible munitions again. They stood upright, firm, and tall, and she should’ve been proud of their regards, had she likely not wanted to throttle them herself (all in due time, of course). The rest of the training grounds remained much the same – and she’d be able to maneuver the targets elsewhere, in order to concentrate on the hole in the wall, or the massive amount of snow in the corner.
The Sword had already ascended a ladder and pieced together portions the old-fashioned way, hammer and nail, loud measures echoing from the timed movements, content with the process. Now and again he’d maneuver over slightly, replacing boards and beams, lining up in scrupulous factions and fragments, certain he wanted it to be the most stable and secure that he could compose and orchestrate; not intending to go through this on multiple occasions. Thereafter, he could begin replacing the boards for the wall itself, rolling up his sleeves, grabbing hold of timber, and re-enacting the efforts.
--
Everyone rolled very nicely!
Deimos is continuing to re-structure the wall.
No post order! Next round will move on once everyone has posted!
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
