- Messages
- 111
- Character Biography
- Link
A low hum, as if to say, yes, it wasn't. 'Gentlemen, leave us!' Agatha pressed to her feet as her officers filed out, one by one. Most of them bore the telltale signs of battle; bloodstains, dented armour, fresh scars to accompany the plethora that came before them. Agatha's black plate bore a few new scars of its own.
Like all of them, she had led from the front when necessary.
'Cato, close the door, please.' What followed would not be for outside ears to hear. Pouring herself another cup of wine, and one for her fellow Captain, the she-orc proposed a toast. 'To the 'Shields! Hardest bastards this side of the Sanguine!' Pouring the contents down her throat, Agatha placed her cup aside.
A drop of red, to go with the stuff smattering her neck and face.
Staring at Cato, her hands placed firmly on the kitchen table she had taken for her own, Agatha fought hard the urge to leap across and begin throttling the bastard. She could feel her teeth grinding together, her pulse quickening. Her rage, reigniting.
'Pull up a chair! I've words to share and not long in which to share them.'
Sitting back down, her armoured skin clicking together, Agatha flipped the map she had been consulting around. 'Have to say, I'm not surprised to see you, Cato,' she growled, angling a wry look his way. 'You always were the luckiest of fools, even way back when. Didn't matter if you were neck-deep in enemies or rolling dice with the local toughs, you always managed to come out on top.'
Agatha smiled, though even the most dull-witted among them could see it was false.
'Not this time. This time, we fucked up.' She put much emphasis into sharing the blame. It took two to tango, after all. Agatha had never been much of a dancer. Should've seen this coming, she thought, reaching for the wine. Her hand stopped halfway.
It fell back to the table, heavy as her heart, and blacker, still.
'What happened?' She asked. 'Where did we go wrong?'
Cato
Like all of them, she had led from the front when necessary.
'Cato, close the door, please.' What followed would not be for outside ears to hear. Pouring herself another cup of wine, and one for her fellow Captain, the she-orc proposed a toast. 'To the 'Shields! Hardest bastards this side of the Sanguine!' Pouring the contents down her throat, Agatha placed her cup aside.
A drop of red, to go with the stuff smattering her neck and face.
Staring at Cato, her hands placed firmly on the kitchen table she had taken for her own, Agatha fought hard the urge to leap across and begin throttling the bastard. She could feel her teeth grinding together, her pulse quickening. Her rage, reigniting.
'Pull up a chair! I've words to share and not long in which to share them.'
Sitting back down, her armoured skin clicking together, Agatha flipped the map she had been consulting around. 'Have to say, I'm not surprised to see you, Cato,' she growled, angling a wry look his way. 'You always were the luckiest of fools, even way back when. Didn't matter if you were neck-deep in enemies or rolling dice with the local toughs, you always managed to come out on top.'
Agatha smiled, though even the most dull-witted among them could see it was false.
'Not this time. This time, we fucked up.' She put much emphasis into sharing the blame. It took two to tango, after all. Agatha had never been much of a dancer. Should've seen this coming, she thought, reaching for the wine. Her hand stopped halfway.
It fell back to the table, heavy as her heart, and blacker, still.
'What happened?' She asked. 'Where did we go wrong?'
Cato
Last edited: