simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
That was the last straw. She had been willing to give him leave, but the snake bit where it wasn't supposed to. Rowan shot up, slammed one fist on the table, and drew her sword. In a split second, before any could even stop her or knew what she was doing, the edge of her sword was at the snake's neck. The table cracked where she struck it, and a few pieces flaked off as she gritted her teeth and seethed.
"Hold your tongue, cretin! You have no claim as to the abilities of my men! Had the Emperor not stayed my hand, I'd have taken your head as a souvenir to send to your Revolutionary friends. I beseech you, my collar of patience frays thin, and I would doubt my liege would even shed a tear for the fly that buzzes too close to his glorious visage, so please, silence yourself before I silence you, permanently. You are a traitor and a liar to your kin, what is there to say you won't betray us as you did them?! A man who spits on his own blood cannot be trusted to not spit on his enemy's." She withdrew her sword from his neck, slashed the air, and sheathed it neatly at her side. Rowan gave another bow to Emperor Mathios, and brushed a hand across the crack on the mahogany table. She would have to watch her own strength in the future. Had she exerted just a little more force...
"My apologies, my liege," she uttered softly. She gathered her helmet and her knife from the table, and turned on her heel, her cape fluttering behind her as she strode towards the exit. "I have my...dogs," she spat out the word derisively, "deployed. Rest assured, I will not prove the words of that fox right." She turned the knob, opened the door, and paused.
"Our-- no, your leader is none of my concern. It is almost already confirmed that the majority of the votes would be the devourer herself." She offered a sneering snarl at the gathering, as if mocking their predictability. Their focus on licking the boots of Holdstatdt was so painfully clear. How they fawned over her, how she was the greatest, how she was the strongest. She could say she was envious, but that was not her job. She was supposed to be content with where she stood now. She was SUPPOSED to be content, gods damn it all. She suppressed the need to punch the door, drew in a deep breath, and continued. "Whoever it is, as obvious as it may be, remember, my leash is held by none but the Emperor, and I bite as hard as I bark." She exited the room, and shut the door behind her. Her footsteps clacked through the empty hallway as she departed from the scene.
-Hell Hath No Anger-
Captain Rowan of the Hounds of the Empire. That was who she was, who she was supposed to be, what she was supposed to act as. Leader of the Special Intelligence forces. She will NOT be looked down by a backstabbing snake, and she will NOT take any of Holdstadt's pride lying down.
She brought the sword down. The blade cut through the dummy cleanly, without resistance. The armor slid off, clanking upon the ground, while the rest of the dummy's body followed, landing with soft thumps on the floor. She turned slightly to face the shadows that had began to grow within the training grounds. Through the shade, a figure emerged, decked in full Imperial armor. She nodded to him.
"Go, spread the word to the Hounds within the operating region of where Sergeant Yuell mentioned about the rumor. Find them. Report back, ASAP." She directed the soldier who looked remarkably like the man who had been held up by his collar in the festivities earlier.
"Captain, I--"
"That is an order, Ross. Now go. As fast as your feet can carry you."
"Very well, sir." The soldier left the training grounds, leaving her with a halved dummy, gripping her sword. She gazed upwards to the darkening skies. Night was coming, and yet, she had no wish to retreat back to her quarters.
She propped up another dummy, and resumed training. She had to be stronger than she already was. She had to surpass all of them, without having to rely on her father's sword. It was imperative that she did so. There was no other way.
"Hold your tongue, cretin! You have no claim as to the abilities of my men! Had the Emperor not stayed my hand, I'd have taken your head as a souvenir to send to your Revolutionary friends. I beseech you, my collar of patience frays thin, and I would doubt my liege would even shed a tear for the fly that buzzes too close to his glorious visage, so please, silence yourself before I silence you, permanently. You are a traitor and a liar to your kin, what is there to say you won't betray us as you did them?! A man who spits on his own blood cannot be trusted to not spit on his enemy's." She withdrew her sword from his neck, slashed the air, and sheathed it neatly at her side. Rowan gave another bow to Emperor Mathios, and brushed a hand across the crack on the mahogany table. She would have to watch her own strength in the future. Had she exerted just a little more force...
"My apologies, my liege," she uttered softly. She gathered her helmet and her knife from the table, and turned on her heel, her cape fluttering behind her as she strode towards the exit. "I have my...dogs," she spat out the word derisively, "deployed. Rest assured, I will not prove the words of that fox right." She turned the knob, opened the door, and paused.
"Our-- no, your leader is none of my concern. It is almost already confirmed that the majority of the votes would be the devourer herself." She offered a sneering snarl at the gathering, as if mocking their predictability. Their focus on licking the boots of Holdstatdt was so painfully clear. How they fawned over her, how she was the greatest, how she was the strongest. She could say she was envious, but that was not her job. She was supposed to be content with where she stood now. She was SUPPOSED to be content, gods damn it all. She suppressed the need to punch the door, drew in a deep breath, and continued. "Whoever it is, as obvious as it may be, remember, my leash is held by none but the Emperor, and I bite as hard as I bark." She exited the room, and shut the door behind her. Her footsteps clacked through the empty hallway as she departed from the scene.
-Hell Hath No Anger-
Captain Rowan of the Hounds of the Empire. That was who she was, who she was supposed to be, what she was supposed to act as. Leader of the Special Intelligence forces. She will NOT be looked down by a backstabbing snake, and she will NOT take any of Holdstadt's pride lying down.
She brought the sword down. The blade cut through the dummy cleanly, without resistance. The armor slid off, clanking upon the ground, while the rest of the dummy's body followed, landing with soft thumps on the floor. She turned slightly to face the shadows that had began to grow within the training grounds. Through the shade, a figure emerged, decked in full Imperial armor. She nodded to him.
"Go, spread the word to the Hounds within the operating region of where Sergeant Yuell mentioned about the rumor. Find them. Report back, ASAP." She directed the soldier who looked remarkably like the man who had been held up by his collar in the festivities earlier.
"Captain, I--"
"That is an order, Ross. Now go. As fast as your feet can carry you."
"Very well, sir." The soldier left the training grounds, leaving her with a halved dummy, gripping her sword. She gazed upwards to the darkening skies. Night was coming, and yet, she had no wish to retreat back to her quarters.
She propped up another dummy, and resumed training. She had to be stronger than she already was. She had to surpass all of them, without having to rely on her father's sword. It was imperative that she did so. There was no other way.