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Rage the Fire
11-17-2020, 03:13 PM (This post was last modified: 11-17-2020, 03:21 PM by Artemisia.)
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Long had it been since the glory of war graced their continent; ripe for those hungry with ambition to climb to succession. If not for your own prestige, then for the power of the house you claimed fealty to. And if not for your house, then family. But in all things, there would always be great sacrifice. Be it the bonds of friendship built over the years. The love of the common people... or perhaps the loyalty of even your own kin.

Yet, Artemisia did not desire power or a seat at the King’s Counsel - not for herself. She desired security, and the ease in knowing that her house was necessary for order across the continent. Even at the cost of bitterness growing in the hearts of those enlisted for the cause. The Dysmas girl would fight tooth and nail for a stake in the claim. She would train until too fatigued to continue forward. She would consume herself in studies of battle tactics and history. Befriend the vile and wicked, if that was what was necessary.

The citadel only ignited the young Templar’s ambition. The golden halls seemed to gleam with opportunity and prosperity; as if all she needed to do was lean in and take it; as easy as a thief surrounded by unguarded coin.

Knights and soldiers of all backgrounds impregnated the grounds. Nothing could smother the forge that raged here. All things would be swallowed by it; knowing no temperament from its heat - no shield from its light. It nurtured a fire so great in the girls heart that it would surely be the end of her. Perhaps, until only the ash remained, but her story was not yet written.


11-17-2020, 04:36 PM
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hover me 4 sass

Cinnamon shaded fur was pulled by the soft breeze. Long limber honey and ebony speckled limbs stretched across the training grounds of the order with quick aimed strides. The initiate had intended to give her bow a fine wax down with beeswax and run a new string through the bow. All considered hard but honorable work for the young she-wolf. Her paws came to a halt as she was barred by another wolf staring over the training grounds. She bit back a growl and instead mumbled out. "Are you going to stand in the way all day or going to go down? I have things to do and daylight waits for no wolf," she huffed out the words with exasperation as if having to waste breath on the fellow canine was a feat in its own.

Having been born an impatient creature; Emmeline pushed her flanks past the fellow she-wolf giving her a slight glare as she strolled on down the stone-riddled grounds. The female rose her head high in an air of importance as she made her way to one of the dirt-laden areas. She settled her rump down pulling her bow from the compartment at the side of her quiver. Tucking her head she removed a small container of wood and tugged an oversized cork from the top exposing the pale buttercup-colored wax. Emmeline pulled a square thin cloth from her bow pack pulling it through the wax before rubbing it with her snout against the wood to keep its flexibility.

After successfully working the wax into the wood she pulled out a thin beige string which she hitched to the upper and lower nock of the bow before waxing the thin string as well. Once she was sure of her work she pulled her paw through the hole she'd had carved into the grip of her bow. She pressed the base of the bow against the ground as she pulled back the string with her free paw before releasing it. Once it snapped back into place she gave a hum of delight for her hard work paying off.

coded by aureate / image by elli. s

12-13-2020, 05:58 PM (This post was last modified: 01-02-2021, 07:00 AM by Artemisia.)
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Anger stirred like an untamed beast within the breast of the young templar knight. The bitterness of it stung her lips; daring to be unleashed as sharp, harmful words torwards the initiate that nearly collided into Artemisia, just moment's before. She watched as the young girl took to the training grounds with something wooden and thin strapped to her back. A bow? How did she manage to acquire that? Artemisia questioned, but it was one thing to own such a rare and sought-after item... and another entirely to actually be capable of being skilled enough to utilize it. Then, the Dysma girl wondered, just how well was her aim?

Artemisia followed the initiate down to the training grounds. The templar knight watched as she took the bow into her hands, polishing the wood with an overly used bar of wax, before snapping the tightly strung string to test it's durability. It vibrated and hummed like a well-tuned instrument, and the chestnut-hued girl gave a warm smile of delight. The Dysma girl gave returned it with a smile of her own. Artemisia wanted nothing more, than to melt that smile right off of the young girls face.

"A very beautiful bow you've manged to acquire for yourself. No doubt, you've kept it in pristine condition." Artemisia stated, as a matter of fact, gesturing towards the bar of wax the initiate girl used moments before.

"I don't know many gifted with the talents to actually use it, however. Most keep it as a souvenir of sorts... never actually knowing how to fire it. Are you the same? Do you just keep such a beautiful weapon just to show others you have it? Or do you actually offer the order something useful..."

Artemisia questioned the girl with a smile painted on her face; nothing to betray the ugliness that stirred within her. The silver of her eyes spoke of nothing deeper to those inquiring for more. She watched the girl, searching for any nerve she may have struck with what Artemisia would continue further with. The Dysma gestured toward a window looking over the training grounds, "Feel free to prove me wrong."

For a moment, she wished the initiate girl would do that very thing.



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