Gertrude couldn't help but feel satisfied after she'd turned the Houndmaster into a sack of quivering innards. The rotter really was a nuisance, and it felt good to explode something that could feel it and be praised for her violence. She supposed all could be forgiven against a force of irredeemable monsters whose occupation was the unilateral massacre of anyone they came across.

Maybe that was knighthood.

A shiver ran up her back when the creature unexpectedly took its final bow, and she readied to explode it even more before it fell as quickly as it rose. Gertrude grit her teeth.

"Sodding creep," she muttered, ceremonially thrusting her arm up into the air as Fanilly declared victory. She wanted to stay and receive even more praise, but had a feeling she'd be chided if she failed to see Rolan to the wounded before their condition turned. Not that she cared for the small fry any.

"Even I'm a bit impressed with myself," she replied to Rolan smugly as she took off, "did you see that bleedin' worm? Of course you did, you shot at it. Bugger practically blotted out the sky. What would everyone have done without me? Might've even taken Rozenalt if we didn't give that one to Tyaethe."

Gertrude's grin widened as they touched down near the injured vanguard forces.

"Ah... that's what this is. The miniature mosquito can't well give you a tongue-lashing if you're tending the wounded. She's probably ready to go off... if she even remembers your interference. Maybe she went so mad that all she saw was blood."