Deimos
life shivers, melts, moves on
the pain says I have come for you
the pain says I have come for you
Deimos, frequent practitioner of any weapon, magic, or shift he could get his hands on, simply arched a brow again. He craved knowledge of their inner workings, of compelling motions, of turns and motions, of power and prestige. And while the opportunities may not have been the same, given limitations with summoning spirits or gods, the semblance of Talyson not exploring this option before stunned him.
But they couldn’t all be the same, so he nodded, continuing on his carving ventures. “Most abilities are worth exploring,” he rumbled, slicing off several more pieces, working upon the proportions lined to the bear’s ribcage. Aware the courier had no magic, and that the former had asked the General what he would do, he muffled the temptation to roll his eyes, listening all the while. “Perhaps,” he mentioned, but he’d never be one to place bets upon a few snowballs. “Would they last in the Climb?” The Bag of Holding might’ve been a magical object, crafted from his own hands, but he couldn’t fathom it contorting an entire climate suitable for ice to remain solid in a world of fire and brimstone.
But they couldn’t all be the same, so he nodded, continuing on his carving ventures. “Most abilities are worth exploring,” he rumbled, slicing off several more pieces, working upon the proportions lined to the bear’s ribcage. Aware the courier had no magic, and that the former had asked the General what he would do, he muffled the temptation to roll his eyes, listening all the while. “Perhaps,” he mentioned, but he’d never be one to place bets upon a few snowballs. “Would they last in the Climb?” The Bag of Holding might’ve been a magical object, crafted from his own hands, but he couldn’t fathom it contorting an entire climate suitable for ice to remain solid in a world of fire and brimstone.
your chest is a wall of fire; you pick torches
