DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Structures adhered, timber in place, nails rapt and tapped with precision, and before long, the bowed adornments had been molded and mauled back into a formidable wall. He stepped back, surveying, checking, orchestrating, until finally it seemed accomplished, finished. With a grateful breath, he assembled his tools in an orderly set, intending to grab them later, depending on everyone else’s circumstances, and then went to check in on the others.
Poking his head into the armory, the Sword was impressed with Amun’s repair work and arrangement – the shelves neatly stocked, in order, with the clarity of serrations, blunter edges, and then the armor. “Well done.” He meant it within the low rumbles and widened eyes, because it’d been a mess, and to put everything together in a short amount of time was no small feat. “We can check in on Aisha.” Amun’s work had been done there anyway, and he waited for the Ascended to agree, before maneuvering out towards the training grounds.
Where…some nuances had clearly gone efficiently, and others not so much, the warrior finally meeting her match. Deimos did very well withholding a genuine laugh at the targets, and then Aisha, whose shoveling and wheelbarrow tactics would ordinarily signify everything in proper order. Except the wheelbarrow seemed to have a mind of its own (or loose hinges, a shifty wheel; it could’ve been anything at this point), and had fallen along its side, upending all the efforts and piles already instilled. Standing along the doorway, awaiting some amount of fire and vitriol to come their way, he managed to not erupt in a round of chuckles, though the amused grin might’ve given him away. “Where would you like us?” Since the training grounds had become her charge, after all.
--
Deimos andAmun have successfully completed their tasks, and have come to Aisha’s aid.
Please letAisha post first!
The next round will move on once everyone has posted!
Poking his head into the armory, the Sword was impressed with Amun’s repair work and arrangement – the shelves neatly stocked, in order, with the clarity of serrations, blunter edges, and then the armor. “Well done.” He meant it within the low rumbles and widened eyes, because it’d been a mess, and to put everything together in a short amount of time was no small feat. “We can check in on Aisha.” Amun’s work had been done there anyway, and he waited for the Ascended to agree, before maneuvering out towards the training grounds.
Where…some nuances had clearly gone efficiently, and others not so much, the warrior finally meeting her match. Deimos did very well withholding a genuine laugh at the targets, and then Aisha, whose shoveling and wheelbarrow tactics would ordinarily signify everything in proper order. Except the wheelbarrow seemed to have a mind of its own (or loose hinges, a shifty wheel; it could’ve been anything at this point), and had fallen along its side, upending all the efforts and piles already instilled. Standing along the doorway, awaiting some amount of fire and vitriol to come their way, he managed to not erupt in a round of chuckles, though the amused grin might’ve given him away. “Where would you like us?” Since the training grounds had become her charge, after all.
--
Deimos and
Please let
The 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
