Chatterbox: KYNGDOM™ RP Board

Catastrophe strikes!!

So, those of you who are looking at recent threads know that someone new has been selected to play Catastrophe: me! (Catsclaw, by the way. Now I have two names beginning in "Cat"! Hey, Catastrophe should be a Dolor Felis! anyway, back on track...

So, this is a new thread for Catastrophe and his minions. Question: Catastrophe has the Sword, right? Does he have the Shield or Crown? Also, where are they? And did they get their powers back? Also what are their powers, besides the whole "He who wields the Sword, Shield, and Crown shall be king of the Kyngdom" thing?

I know nothing about the three artifacts, crap.

Maybe I shouldnt've become Catastrophe... Ah, what the heck.

~Catastrophe

The boy kind sat upon his throne, something he had recently comissioned, fashioned from a bone of an ancient Titan. He felt the hilt of the the Sword, his fingers caressing the pommel of the ancient blade. When a skinny boy -a messenger, from the warfront, from the looks of him- entered the room.

"M-my lord." said the boy, prostrating himself fearfully before Catastrophe, "I bring news from the Fourth division."

"Yes, boy?" Catastrophe's face and voice betrayed no emotion, bland as the rations the army ate each day. "Good news, I hope?"

"N-no, I'm afraid not, Milord." the boy seemed even more fearful now. Perhaps he had heard horror stories of what Catastrophe did to messengers who brought bad news. "The seventeenth cohort has been decimated by a small rebellion that wasn't expected to fight back. The centurion was the only survivor. Milord, the captain, at my father the Tenth centurion's urging, has executed the leaders of the impromptu rebellion, and has conscripted the remaining finghting-worthy men and woman."

Catastrophe had yet to betray any emotion. "You said your father is the Tenth centurion?"

"Y-yes, milord."

"All right. Well, I'm sure you know what I do to bearers of bad news." The boy gulped, and nodded. 

"D-do what you wish m-milord," said the boy, though his face was pale. "And I will s-say no p-protest, for y-you are m-my lord and rul-ruler." 

Catastrophe nodded, stood, and pulled the Sword from its sheath, bringing it whistling dwon towards the boy's terrified face. True to his word, however, the boy did not move a muscle as the Sword neared his neck.

It stopped barely a centimeter away from the boy's neck. The boy exhaled and raised his head in shock as Catastrophe slid his blade back into its sheath and smiled warmly. "Boy, I know military generals who would have tried to escape, but you are braver than them. Starra!" he added loudly to the on-duty footservant (he had killed the last one). "Find me a messenger and tell them to deliver the following message to the captain of the fourth division: 'the Centurion of the Fourth cohort is to be executed. Tell the Centurion of the Tenth that his son has been promoted to my personal messenger.'"

The boy looked elated and disbelieving. "Th-Thank you! My lord is ever just and merciful!"

"Now boy, what is your name, I can't keep calling you 'boy', now can I?"

"Tarro. Tarro, your highness."

So, did I do anything wrong in roleplaying Catastrophe there? I felt like I did a good job of sending competing messages of "Brutal but strange sense of 'mercy'"? I'd like some feedback!