02-27-2017, 11:39 PM
There is the insanity that comes but once in a life… insanity that, while it is insane, makes more sense than any sane body could ever hope to be.
That, in a nutshell, is what makes up the Gift-Giver.
Deimos has waited here in this wasteland, collecting his minions, building his strength—brought to his knees and loyalty by the horned King. He had followed him here to this barren place in search of some place to call home… mostly so he would not have to suffer the asinine of the field and meadow. Someone as he should never have to put up with that kind of stupidity.
The ground around him is dry and dusty, and falls apart in flakes around him as he walks. Creating canyons in his wake, he approaches. The land is thirsty, that much is certain. And it craves blood.
As Deimos sees the thoughts rolling around in a jumbled mess inside Pollocks mind, he is satisfied that there is a madman at the helm of this ship. Perhaps it means something can actually get done.
He approaches from the side, looking down into the valley alongside the king. He says nothing. It is not his place anymore. So, in deference to his king, he waits for the other man to make the first overtures. A dry wind blows.
This place sucks.
What hell was destined to be unleashed?
DEIMOS
cry ‘havoc’ and let slip the dogs of war…
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