Time of Day: Night, before the current Morning
Location: East, along the oceanâs coast slightly north of the port city
Rowanâs troops were stationed around one large campfire, speaking amongst themselves and eating warm bread with honey jam. The smell of crisp, burning wood flavored the air with hickory and coal. All together, there were about 20 men, from orcs and elves to the basic human. More should be joining soon. So far this group had not lost a single fighter against a Union soldier, mind their fair share of cuts and scrapes, Rowan training her lot well. Food wasnât necessarily hard to come by, there were professional thieves amongst them if they got that desperate. Food was the fuel that kept them all strong, and happy. Fortunately there were several large family units in the East, wealthy and powerful, that helped fund the Rebellion and provided meals as troops rotated in and out of the city. This particular camp of rebels was just a portion of the larger Rebellion group. Certainly they didnât share the sheer numbers of the Union army, but their fighting tactics and skills made up for it. Her reasons for training these men were pretty simple, and selfish. It didnât matter if they died in the end, as long as they survived long enough to face the brute strength of the heart of the Union army. What the Rebellion fought for, their hopes of freedom and other petty wishes, didnât mean a thing to her truly (after all, she had been in the Union for many decades longer and would still be in the Union under different circumstances..) Of course, they all believed she was their faithful leader, and she was in all aspects loyal- but she led for herself, not for them. Plus she didnât take orders well, she handed them out. All she wanted from the Rebellion was the chance to piss off Kronis, watch his face as she snapped the necks of all his top soldiers, drain their blood, and give him his own shove in the ass. Thinking about it made her hungry for more. She was a cold-bolded killer, never any remorse or regret keeping her awake at night. That was what made her so special as a soldier, for emotions never got in her way of her job. She was unquestionably the best thing the Union had in their arsenal and the Captain, her so-called dear friend, threw her out over a petty human kill that wasnât worth a cent. Kali deserved the fate Rowan was faced with, not the other way around. And for that, Kali deserved to die. And she wouldnât be so easy on her this time around. The ironic part of it all was that Rowan suspected neither of them had the slightest clue who and what they were dealing with now. Her nature in the Union was never one of revenge, because she could really give a damn and nothing ever upset her. But a vampire that holds a grudge, well, it doesnât go over well. Pointless nights of brooding only made Rowan persistent on finding closure.
**
Rowanâs presence in the camp was immediately noted, men of an assortment of races pausing what they were doing to watch their leader walk down the steps from her safehouse towards them, led by her co-leader Colvon, a man dressed in a black, heavy cloak. Colvon was a human, age 38, a fugitive who made a mess in Jarvaise a decade back and came out East to start a new life. Under his hood, youâd find a scar stretching from his forehead in a diagonal cut across his cheek, both eyes intact somehow. His reasons for joining the Rebellion was for personal survival-- too many enemies in the Union. The two leaders passed through the crowd, Rowanâs hips swaying gracefully as her long legs carried her foreword. Some of the troops bowed their heads, afraid to make eye contact with the red-eyed temptress, others stared up at her with goggling eyes, their fascination never getting old. Her pale white skin glistened under the yellow moonâs light, flawless even through the 200 years of being on this planet. It contrasted perfectly with her slick black dress, made of silk that fell above her knees and blew freely in the slight breeze. The night was chilly but weather had no effect on the vampire. She could be completely undressed up in the Northern tundra, barefoot in snow, and she would feel no different than she did now. Of course, Rowan wasnât an idiot when she came to clothing. A dress certainly wasnât what she would pick to wear in battle. Up in her room, in a locked black chest, held her treasured armor, the same armor that was forged for her personally by a talented smith and mage team ages ago. The most expensive of her set was the chest and back plate, which echoed the curve of her chest perfectly in a shining steel mold (the materials imported from overseas), the back piece connecting to the front by leather buckles up and down her sides. It was strong, durable, which protected her from being staked in the chest or the back by a wooden stake--- long range weapons such as crossbows on the other hand had a chance. The second most important piece to her armor was her enchanted neck guard, made of a layer of soft scarlet cloth under a metal collar that clicked together in the front, less than a half inch thick and inset with rubies and jade jewels. If a weapon were to aim at her neck, a strong, invisible barrier would prevent the weapon from getting anywhere close to grazing her neck (minimum safety net around 2 inches away)- after all, sheâd die if her head was chopped off, and she knew it was always better to be prepared than not at all. Besides the chest, back, and neck armor, the rest was light-weight and made of leather, such as her pants that clung to her every muscle like a glove, allowing her to be more agile and quick without the weight of leg plates. Numerous belts and brown leather straps were also in her black chest, able to hold throwing knives and other various weapons of small size that could pack a punch from afar. The only time she really needed weapons was for long-range combat. Hand to hand or armed combat on the other hand was a whole different story. She needed no sword, or axe, or dagger. All she needed as herself and her strength.
Colvon was leading Rowan past the camp and into the darker part of the forest that surrounded them. It took him a few seconds to adjust his eyes as his feet made noisy crunches against dead leaves, but Rowan could see through the darkness as if it was as bright as day. âJust a bit further,â he motioned, holding back twigs and thin branches that stood in their way as they made their way deeper into the woods. The campfire was no longer visible from this point, and they were able near the edge of a cliff that overlooked the ocean. Rowan could see what they were talking towards now: it was the young boy, his hands tied together in a knot of rope which was connected to a large tree trunk. The closer she got, the louder the boys noises grew, his quivers and shakes and moans for food. The young childâs eyes were bright blue even in the dark, while the rest of his body was covered in mud and blood.
âWhy are you so afraid?â Rowan asked the child coldly with a sick smirk on her face, bending over slightly with her hands on her knees, her red hair falling loosely in a frame around her face. All the young one could do was wince his eyes and curl up on the ground. They had this boy as their captive for 4 days now, the only survivor in their last raid of a pro-Union city further south from here. He wasnât alive because they felt pity for him, or had any morals on killing children. They kept him alive for business purposes. The child was the first and only child of a wealthy family that owned several weapon shops in the main port city of the East, Versten. Catch was, they were Union-lovers. To prevent further lives from being taken or another city burned, a deal was worked out that the boy would be returned in one piece if the family surrendered their weapons to the Rebellion. Personally Rowan thought it was amusing that the Rebellion is trying to fight corruption with corruption, but maybe that too isnât far off with fighting fire with fire. Either way, taking a boy and tying him to a tree until the exchange was in place wasnât the most decent things to do, but Colvon liked to pretend he didnât have a heart.. at least Rowanâs excuse was that her heart didnât beat.
âDonât worry, if there is any left over bread and honey, Iâm sure the men would be happy to share,â she said slowly, each word heavy with a sultry slur, her eyes narrowing ever so cooly, âbut then again, they did look really hungry tonight.â The same smirk found its way on her lips again, standing up straight and walking back to Colvonâs side. Colvon took this as the signal he could now move forward and check the boyâs rope, making sure there was no cut or attempt for the child to escape. Colvonâs large, rough hands tugged at the rope as he inspected the length, a nod concluding that everything here was fine.
âSweetie, get some sleep,â Rowan said as her goodbye to the terrified boy. This time she smiled in full. This time she bared her fangs.
The two leaders walked back to camp, merging from the trees to already be face to face with one of their messengers.
âPermission to speak!â the messenger asked, a young man with his chin held high, eyes not looking directly at either of the two until Colvon gave him the go ahead. He bowed and continued to speak, âWord has it that Captain Loger Kronis has sent out a large army to the East. Their arrival will be within the next few days if my sources are correct.â
âWell, are they correct or are they not?â Rowan said as she moved closer to the messenger boy, the mention of the Captainâs name bringing Rowanâs passive composer down to a thin straw.
âCorrect, correct!â he squealed, as Rowan placed her right hand in a rest against his neck, any moment willing to squeeze his esophagus out. As he finished his cry, Rowan brought her arm back down to his side.
She was not angered by this news, not in the slightest. A genuine look of calm smoothed over her face and her voice grew softer. âGood.â With that, she excused herself from the two and took the pathway back to the stairs that led to her safehouse. She wanted to be alone to celebrate this victory. They finally had the big manâs attention. Her pace was swift and the majority of the rebels didnât even see the vampire run by. She was in her room within the second, door locking behind her. Rowan wasnât quite sure what was going to happen next, but damn she was excited. The past three years had been boring and yet filled with so much frustration that it was about time to have some fun.