[Seasonal Event] summer in the sun, winter in the shade
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#1
DEIMOS
And in your darkest hour,
I hold secrets flame
The settlement was in clear disarray.

Ordinarily, there were signs of life here, scattered amidst homes, streets, and corridors, with the occasional garbage, broken barbs, intertwining their way through the avenues. These weren’t usually bothersome or any indication of altercations – the sway of movement and motion, the hustle and bustle of merchant life or busy inhabitants. This, though, was different, brought on by Long Night’s seething tribulations, the desire for treachery, for upheaval, for sedition amidst common splendor. Down one particular path, where he currently roamed, the broken windows and shattered glass splintered and fractured themselves on stones, marks of monsters clawed themselves down walls, and the stretch of the unknown, mysteries of the dark, intertwining days, were displayed before them. They didn’t tell the whole story, the lingering bouts of truth between the barbarity, the animosity, and the deceitful, subterfuge might of demons and infidels.

Normally, the Reaper was a fan of chaotic disorder. It allowed him to roam in the depths of its rebellious fathoms, to strike and assault and siege while everyone else was occupied with the ruin and revolution; but to view the houses now, once bright little beacons against the horizon, torn apart and belittled, simply forced him to do something about it.

Eternally a man of action, less words, more motions and movements, he’d grabbed the nearest broom laying against the side of a house (presuming the owner was fine with it going missing for several minutes; shrugging away the possibilities of anger and vitriol), and started sweeping up the glass, listening to the clink and chimes of it hustling together. The warrior moved them to the closest wall, where hopefully he could find something to shove them into, deposit elsewhere or make use of it.

And all the while, curiosity got the better of him. The more he looked around, above disheveled window boxes, door frames, and shutters, the more he noticed little banners clinging to the side. They waved around in the wind, delicate but formidable, and he didn’t have a clue what they were for and represented.

master of nothing place
of recoil and grace
Roana
Roana Steadman
Soldier

Age: 35 | Height: 5'8" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 6 - Strg: 24 - Dext: 26 - Endr: 24 - Luck: 11 - Int:
Played by: Grant Offline
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Posts: 758 | Total: 5,479
MP: 0
#2
Roana
No, I don't wanna sit still, look pretty
If the reaper thought his actions went unnoticed, he was about to be taken well off guard. Three pairs of round blue eyes watched him from the shadows on the side of the house. He was a big, scary looking fellow, yet only one of the three was a bit worried about him. And by a bit, the narrator means briefly noted to their compatriots and readily shushed. So they shushed and watched as the big man grabbed a broom off the side of their house and began to sweep the street. Sweep, sweep, sweep, all the way to the wall where the little flags waved. Little flags that had very important meaning and they knew were important but don't ask them why.

Momma said they were important so they were. That was all that mattered.

At length, and after some very serious and most definitely sneaky whispering, one set of eyes stepped forward from the shadows. A boy, no more than seven, but likely younger, stepped forward. His eyes bright blue, blonde hair cropped short, looking very stern. This one was called Cormac, his brothers Rhett and Jax still sneakily hiding around the corner. The big scary man had taken their momma's broom, you see, and strong men like them had to protect important women and their stuff - that was what momma said their daddy would have told them. And now, Cormac didn't know who this big scary guy was, but he was gonna make good and sure he knew just who was in charge around here!

"Hey! What are you doin' huh?" he said in as intimidating of a voice as he could.



https://c8.alamy.com/comp/B32B9M/triplet...B32B9M.jpg Photo reference for Cormac, Rhett, and Jax
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#3
DEIMOS
And in your darkest hour,
I hold secrets flame
Deimos had mixed feelings about children. When he was one, amidst his crowd of fellow mischief-makers and rabble rousers, he’d been endlessly amused and diverted. But as he grew into a soldier, a warrior, he paid less and less attention to them, except for the idle few that dared approach his bulky, brawny figure. Those were often scared off if his gaze even inched toward them. Then throughout his war campaigns and crusades, amidst the endless death, promised, eternal glory, vehement victories and devastating defeats, and hollow losses, they hadn’t been around. Upon their return to their homes, to their territories, children, and people overall, had been scarce; the world had fizzled and died away, decayed, withered away at the seams.

So he wasn’t entirely sure how to react when the infantile voice, no matter how loud and booming it tried, reached his ears. He swung his head back and met blue eyes, a daring, incredulous sort of gaze sometimes worn solely by kids and their bold, brazen, audacious platitudes – he’d done the same in devilish contortions, a blistering, emblazoned beast of a boy laughing and swinging his fake sword towards imagined enemies. Other than an arch of his brow, the Reaper’s features remained indifferent and nonchalant, a molded reticence meant to repel others away; it usually worked on those grown, bored of him immediately or terrified by his presence alone. He wasn’t sure if it was effective on the younger broods, but he was willing to give it a shot.

“Cleaning,” was the only answer the boy would receive, cold and without any inflection, before the beast went back to tending to the clinking glass, shoving the last of its particles against the wall, looking for something to use when picking it up, then discarding. He thought about his gloves, resting unused on the table in his house, and considered chastising himself for not thinking of bringing them.

master of nothing place
of recoil and grace
Roana
Roana Steadman
Soldier

Age: 35 | Height: 5'8" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 6 - Strg: 24 - Dext: 26 - Endr: 24 - Luck: 11 - Int:
Played by: Grant Offline
Change author:
Posts: 758 | Total: 5,479
MP: 0
#4
Roana
No, I don't wanna sit still, look pretty
"Well that's my momma's broom! And you didn't ask for it!" the boy said, seemingly completely unintimidated by Deimos' very obviously intimidating attitude. Ah, youth. It made one blind and brave for all the wrong reasons. Of course, this boy's bravery came in part because as far as he was concerned, he had the upper hand. This scary man was out numbered. The boy waved his hand and two identical clones came rushing out from the alleyway.

Well. Almost identical. Jax liked cookies the best out of the three of them.

In a well planned fashion, Deimos would find himself surrounded by three very blonde, very blue eyed, very bold little boys, planning to commandeer the broom out of his hands. But at that moment, the door to the house opened and a tall, broad shouldered woman stepped out. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but her blue eyes were very clearly the same as the three little sets glaring up at him. "Boys! Just want do you think you're doing?" she snapped at them, with all the power that any military officer would aspire to have. In an instant the three boys straightened up, spluttering about getting her broom back from this broom-stealing man. But she was instead quick to send them inside, thoroughly displeased with them.

"I am so sorry about them." the woman said to him with a sigh. "Their father isn't around so they think they have to 'protect the house'." she said, rolling her eyes a bit. "My name is Roana Steadman, is there anything I can help you with?"
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#5
DEIMOS
And in your darkest hour,
I hold secrets flame
Since this day seemingly only intended to reach the heights of ridiculousness, the Reaper suddenly found himself surrounded by small, identical looking children, and considered his options.

There was always his favored enchantments, the invocations searing and seething below his flesh. It would be easy to desecrate small, infantile sorts; it probably would only take a slow pulse or two of the vicious, nefarious enchantments before they took their last breaths, and he’d be free of their asinine, impudent natures. Unfortunately, with these proceedings, there’d be the inevitable mother wailing up and down the street, crying out for her lost loved ones and pointing her fingers at the murderer – and then he’d be forced to admit he killed simply because they annoyed him.

A second alternative could be ignoring them – another preference of the cold, monstrous being. It was easy to become an indifferent, nonchalant piece of rock and rubble, a stony fixture in the back of the room, unseen, unheard, simply absorbing, acknowledging, and committing things to memory. It’d worked on several occasions throughout this kingdom, coasting along the wings of halls and bars with deadly, lethal silence; like a viper ready to strike, like a predator on the prowl. But as the eyes continued to watch him maneuver and motion, over a damned broom (and wasn’t he helping them in a way – since the glass was right where they could have tread?), it seemed an unlikely possibility.

He was saved from any other decisions, standing there with the broom and glass shoved against the wall, by a loud, feminine shout; the obvious keeper of the triplets. He exhaled the smallest sigh of relief, because any other considerations were coming up vastly empty, and everyone was forced to retreat. Deimos’ piercing eyes roamed to hers, presuming now was an adequate time for an explanation over the fury of a tool. “I was using the broom to clean up some glass.” He nodded his head, indicating the particles and pieces clutched together; suddenly feeling very stupid that he even had to clarify his actions. He swallowed down the agitation, the vexation, and proceeded in his detached, distant manner; mulling over how to get away and escape the entire scene as quickly as possible. “Do you have anything to put it in?”


master of nothing place
of recoil and grace
Roana


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