DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
And then they were off.
Paige and Belial would end up weaseling around for some time, rummaging amongst and amidst rubble, debris, charred bits and pieces, before they ultimately came to a door. This shouldn’t have been surprising, it had been their goal after all, and the peryton poked and prodded at the opening with his antlers, but it wouldn’t budge. The young deer seemed to almost shrug, presuming that the child would have some better ideas.
The Halovian pair ofShaye and Sylvia made decent work of the den – pushing and dusting refuse away, occupying themselves while singing; filling the guildhouse with refrains rather than the mundane. In time, they’d find the den clean, and now all they needed to do was move some furniture about – making it a space for those meant to gather amongst themselves.
Nephele had the least amount of luck out of the group, unfortunately, and even if she was readily experienced in replacing windows, the molding apparently had some score to settle. Or a grudge. Instead of sliding nicely out of its etchings, one window in particular decided to remain firmly stuck along the top, leaving it swinging, and it would take another moment for the Fae to fix.
Deimos stared over the remains of his own daunting progress, starting with the stairs. Ripping off old boards, he was forced to, once more, stare into the wounds he’d scorched along the void. Quietly, presuming he’d be in a melancholic state by the end of the semblances, he tilted his head as he could hear the singsong workings of the others – snorting instead of yielding into the despondency. He shook his head several times, but more bemused than anything else, he was able to reach the top of the rise, and begin towards the room he’d obliterated.
--
Paige and Belial have found a door, but its either stuck or locked!
Sylvia and Shaye have cleaned up the den, and now they can move furniture around!
Nephele’s window is stuck.
Deimos has ripped up old boards and replaced them with new ones for the stairs.
Paige and Belial would end up weaseling around for some time, rummaging amongst and amidst rubble, debris, charred bits and pieces, before they ultimately came to a door. This shouldn’t have been surprising, it had been their goal after all, and the peryton poked and prodded at the opening with his antlers, but it wouldn’t budge. The young deer seemed to almost shrug, presuming that the child would have some better ideas.
The Halovian pair of
Deimos stared over the remains of his own daunting progress, starting with the stairs. Ripping off old boards, he was forced to, once more, stare into the wounds he’d scorched along the void. Quietly, presuming he’d be in a melancholic state by the end of the semblances, he tilted his head as he could hear the singsong workings of the others – snorting instead of yielding into the despondency. He shook his head several times, but more bemused than anything else, he was able to reach the top of the rise, and begin towards the room he’d obliterated.
--
Paige and Belial have found a door, but its either stuck or locked!
Sylvia and Shaye have cleaned up the den, and now they can move furniture around!
Nephele’s window is stuck.
Deimos has ripped up old boards and replaced them with new ones for the stairs.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
