"A quiver full, sir!" he called back to his commander. "And a belt loaded with knives." He showed respect to Commander Dolosus, but no other person had ever gained it from him. Maybe it was because Dolosus was his first actual boss, but his guess was as good as anybody's. Jallas walked forward out of the crowd of soldiers. "Sir, I can take a small group of archers out to scout the enemy camp if you'd like. It may give us an upper hand in the coming battle." he asked pointedly.
Instead of looking to his commander for an answer, he looked at the Imperial Order. The glint of the sun on their shields reminded Jallas of the time he watched out the window of his home, waiting for his Dad to get home. The sun was setting, and the window of the house was facing the west, so Jallas watched the sun all day. His father had finally come home...Jallas looked around, he had reminisced a brief second. His memories always seemed to end before he even saw his father, almost as if he had never existed, but Jallas knew he did. How would he have been born otherwise? He shrugged his thoughts off, and looked at Commander Dolosus again, waiting for an answer.
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IT IS I, THE LEGION OF DEATH!
(aka: Deaths_Legion)
Am I indecisive? Yes and no.
Quote:
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Originally Posted by Jim Butcher
In real life, the chair doesn't break when you slug somebody with it, the way it does in the movies. The person you hit is the one who breaks.
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Best two lines of Storm Front, hands down.
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