[PQ] but our blades are sharp

DEIMOS

The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates

Permitted their round of laughter, the beast shook his head thereafter, wandering towards the hole in the wall. It was a nuisance to be certain, allowing for the snow to amplify and accumulate in one area, where it really shouldn’t have been at all. Stepping around the pile, as he figured Aisha and Amun would be getting to it eventually, he crouched down before the aperture, studying and examining. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the one he’d already replaced, and so he unfolded incantations, waiting for the lumber, the timber, to compile once more, meeting one another in an act of creation and earth adornments. They aligned well, sufficiently, and he strengthened the beams as they maneuvered onward, unfurling might and mettle into the structure.

Perhaps it was a fortunate thing for Aisha that Amun had joined her; his repairs worked well, honing in on the wheelbarrows weaknesses, repairing whatever damage had been done to the tool.

Aisha, because luck had not been on her side nearly at all today, continued with a frustrating torrent of issues; this one namely a shovel breaking, snapping completely in half. Luckily there were more available, and with the Ascended picking up where she left off, they’d begun to make headway on the pile of snow.

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Aight, next round should be the last one (considering dice rolls). Take care of the rest of the snow and we should be good to go!

The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead