03-03-2009, 12:34 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-27-2009, 01:26 PM by TheSupremeForce.)
Something was different. While Maric was well known within the towering structure of the Central Citadel, he had never entered with such an air of hostility. Typically, he kept to himself and went about his own business, but not today. On a good day, few dare to meet Maric’s gaze. This was not a good day. Even the Legionnaires patrolling the halls suddenly had somewhere else to be.
Not bothering to knock first, Maric threw open the door, causing it to crash loudly against the wall. The Master Sergeant, a man Maric had spoken to on more than one occasion, jumped out of his chair, already reaching for his sword. Recognizing Maric, the sergeant’s eyes narrowed, his hand remaining near his weapon; though he made no effort to draw it.
“That’s not how entering a room is done around here,” the sergeant added an extra edge to his voice. Maric might be well known, and considered highly dangerous, but he wasn’t about to push the sergeant around in his own office! “What can I do for you, Maric?”
Skipping any pleasantries, Maric thrust the sealed letter into the sergeant’s hands. “Give this to Thrul. Immediately.”
Without another word, Maric turned and strode from the building. The sergeant pondered his options only briefly. Then he called for a runner.
Not bothering to knock first, Maric threw open the door, causing it to crash loudly against the wall. The Master Sergeant, a man Maric had spoken to on more than one occasion, jumped out of his chair, already reaching for his sword. Recognizing Maric, the sergeant’s eyes narrowed, his hand remaining near his weapon; though he made no effort to draw it.
“That’s not how entering a room is done around here,” the sergeant added an extra edge to his voice. Maric might be well known, and considered highly dangerous, but he wasn’t about to push the sergeant around in his own office! “What can I do for you, Maric?”
Skipping any pleasantries, Maric thrust the sealed letter into the sergeant’s hands. “Give this to Thrul. Immediately.”
Without another word, Maric turned and strode from the building. The sergeant pondered his options only briefly. Then he called for a runner.
"Survival of the fittest and the winnowing of the weak are Malar's Legacy. A brutal, bloody death or kill has great meaning. The crux of life is the challenge between the hunter and the prey, the determination of who lives or dies. View every important task as a hunt. Remain ever alert and alive."