[PQ+] the scale of ambition

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Deimos had experienced a multitude of things, usually on the brink of sovereignty, battles, wars, crusades…and lacked in others. Like farming, gardening, and apparently, cement. They’d done numerous parts in the construction of the pillar, and it’d been smaller, not as looming as the watchtower would turn out to be. His nose wrinkled, not towards any of his constituents, but upon his ignorance in the matter, and would have to defer to others for some guidance on the proportions. “I can write out a schedule,” at the very least, so they’d know who was taking turns and when. Considering how often he conducted them for the Shields and barracks as a whole, it wouldn’t be very difficult. “Do we want to recruit any others,” considering the notice board, and any of those who’d been masons. “Or place signs?” Dictating ample warnings? Snagging at a piece of parchment and charcoal in his pockets, the Sword began to hasten down times – calculations conforming in his head, before placing them down on the paper. -- Deimos makes a schedule. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace