The sky was dark and the mass crowds aboard the Friendship were silent. A soft rain persisted to pour down on the Friendship and two other vessels that sailed across the calm Narrow Sea. The deck was quiet, for the exception of the droplets on the wooden decking. Davios sat on the wet floor with his back leaning against the creaking mast. He still wore his steel armour, his sword lay by his feet. The rain slowly washed away the blood that once stained his armour, yet the rain could not wash away his thoughts. His fists were sore from the countless blows and swings he had countered during battle. He pulled off the steel gauntlets to find his hands distorted and alien to what they once were. His left hand was intensely swollen, his right thumb was dislocated. Davios had never had an issue with aligning dislocations, though with his hand being so swollen he was unsure if he was capable of doing this alone. He focussed his attention elsewhere, searching for someone that may aid him.
He stared at each of the figures that were cloaked in darkness, there were few. Many of the soldiers slept in the bunks below, or simply sat and wept out of the rain. A sudden flash caught Davios attention, he looked over to the stairs that ascended to the upper deck and cockpit. A light - candle or lantern - emitted from under the stairs, and a small figure sat there quietly staring at something. Davios stood himself up and slowly walked to the light that brightened the stairs. His bones ached and his muscles were sore, walking was a burden to his legs. The final few metres to the stairs felt like the Seven Hells, and to his disappointed he found Jorio. There he sat, with blood on his face, reading the same old book he had been for this entire voyage. If Davios was in a right state of consciousness he may have been polite, but war had made him tired and irritable. His manners had left him.
“Seven Hells Jorio, what is it about you and that damned book!” Jorio looked up, seeming a little surprised. He nervously smiled at Davios and then looked back to the pages of his book. He flipped to the front cover and revealed the title. Him of Many Faces.
“It’s about the Many-Faced God. When I went to Braavos many years ago I bought this book, though since then I have never really had a chance to read it…” Davios held down his anger, fighting it with his honour and respect. He is still reading a book, despite everything that has happened. Davios shook his head, trying his best to clear it of the frustration.
“Where is Hughie?” Davios watched Jorio’s face blush a light red. His eyes seemed as if they were filled with anger or jealousy. Jorio looked up to Davios and smiled, though Davios could see a deep anger in the boy’s eyes.
“He’s with Vysela, down below.” Davios wanted to be concerned on Jorio’s recent behaviour, though he was tired of all the nonsense with Harlan and Jorio’s seeming deception. He shrugged it off and left Jorio to his book.
-
The hull was filled with weary and injured soldiers who lay on bunks or the floor. Despite the occasional groan or weep, the hull was rather quiet. Davios silently stepped over the sleeping men and women on the floors in between the bunks. Agony and pain rushed through his limbs making him want to scream, yet a certain urge made him fight through it and keep quiet. To his disappointment his bunk was filled by a wounded soldier. Davios grunted and looked around for a spare bed. Nothing. All hope seemed lost for a restful night, yet an opportunity called to him. A whisper that called his name. He turned to see Piggy standing behind him, his eyes carried black bags under them. Piggy looked down to Davios’ hands, then focussed his attention back to Davios.
“How about we get you fixed up eh?” Davios slightly nodded, then followed the round man through the masses of slumbered bodies that rested on the floor. Piggy led Davios into a small room with barrels and crates full of salted meats and fresh water. He shut the door and let out a sigh. He beckoned for Davios to sit down.
“The battle was hopeless, useless. We gained nothing as expected, just another warlord trying to prove their worth.” Davios squirmed as he sat down on a low crate. It felt as if every muscle in his body ached, his hand especially. He looked up to the big round man and raised his eye.
“What do you mean ‘as expected’?” Piggy chuckled to himself as he placed the lantern down on a barrel next to Davios. He opened a crate and pulled out some bandages and cloth. He walked over to Davios, knelt down and inspected his left hand.
“Well it would seem that is broken, though bandaging when it’s swelled like this will be useless.” Piggy pulled out his dagger from the sheath on his waist and hovered it over Davios’ hand. “I’ll need to get rid of some of the blood, with your permission…” Davios was highly against the idea, though he knew it was likely he would lose the hand if it was not treated. He nodded slightly.
“Do it.” Piggy put a gash through Davios’ palm and waited as the blood slowly poured out and onto the wooden floor.
“As I was saying, it was expected we would lose. Argos Sevenstar was persistent, he had never lost a fight in his life. He convinced Noriphos that he could take the North when no one else could, turns out he failed all the same.” Shock and disappointment filled Davios all at once. We are all disposable. He thought to himself as the blood finally dissipated. Piggy looked up at Davios and frowned. “I was hoping you would have passed out from the blood… This is going to hurt.” Piggy raised Davios’ hand in the air and began to apply the padding. As soon as the cotton made contact with Davios’ hand pure agony rushed through him, causing him to yell in pain. His vision grew cloudy and dark, he looked to Piggy for comfort but found none. The last thing he remembered was the door to the storage room opening, and a beautiful figure entering.
-
Light. Beams of sunshine finding its way through the cracks in the wooden hull. Davios awoke to find the hull was lit with natural lights of the sky. Next to him sat Hughie Arryn and Vysela, whom were both embracing and grieving. Davios tried to speak but his voice was weak and soft. He raised his bandaged hand until Hughie finally noticed him.
“Davios! You’re awake!” He quickly sat by his side, being a little more rough than Davios wished. He grunted in reply, making Hughie instantly apologise. Vysela stood and nodded, then left. The two awkwardly watched as the stunningly beautiful woman left their presence and ascended the stairs to the deck. Davios focussed his attention the the young lad in front of him. He grinned as if it was the happiest day in his life.
“We were worried Davios! We didn’t know if you were going to come back or if the Seven had taken you for good.” Davios raised his eyebrow, feeling somewhat confused.
“What do you mean? How long have I been out…?” Hughie sighed, appearing saddened or distressed.
“Three days. Half the wounded have died of their wounds and Harlan ordered that they had their bodies tossed overboard. He was about to have his crew do the same to you, but I stopped them. I may only have one eye, but I’m still a better fighter than half of the soldiers on this vessel.” Hughie’s cockiness made Davios chuckle, yet even lightly it was still painful.
Vysela returned with Piggy by her side. Vysela’s face was unreadable, but Piggy’s showed great distress. He knelt down next to Davios and frowned.
“Damn you Davios, you should have either passed out or fainted. Now you fight for your life in this bed like the rest of the wounded.” Davios was puzzled by the man’s attitude, he could not identify whether he was angry or upset with him - perhaps both. Vysela walked over to Hughie and grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Perhaps we should give your friend some time. He will not like what he will hear.” Hughie looked up to Vysela, then back at Davios. He nodded regretfully and left with the beautiful Valyrian. Davios looked at Piggy with a dissatisfied look. Whatever this is, it can’t be good.
“Right well, I owe you an explanation.” Davios nodded, causing Piggy to frown again. “Don’t do that, it makes me feel responsible. When you went unconscious, you were clumsy enough to let your hand fall into someone else's blood. Well now it’s infected. I’m not going to be wishy washy about this because I know the consequences of infection. If this isn’t treated soon, the infection will kill you. We don’t know when we will get to Andalos, but with any luck it will be soon. So here are our options. One, we amputate your hand… Or two, we wait it out and hope we make it to Andalos in time to get you to someone who can save your hand.” Davios looked the man deep in the eyes, trying to find some flaw or error to this surely fake seriousness: there was none. He sighed and looked down to his left hand, an uncertain weakness had burdened it.
“I will… Need some time to decide.” Piggy nodded, standing up and starting to walk off. Davios quickly grabbed him while he was still close enough. He turned and looked Davios in the eye with curiosity and sorrow.
“I need to speak with Vysela, could you bring her back soon?” The fat man nodded and Davios released him. He quickly disappeared and left Davios to his thoughts, which were all heavily negative.
Davios
The sky was dark and the mass crowds aboard the Friendship were silent. A soft rain persisted to pour down on the Friendship and t… morewo other vessels that sailed across the calm Narrow Sea. The deck was quiet, for the exception of the droplets on the wooden decking. Davios sat on the wet floor with his back leaning against the creaking mast. He still wore his steel armour, his sword lay by his feet. The rain slowly washed away the blood that once stained his armour, yet the rain could not wash away his thoughts. His fists were sore from the countless blows and swings he had countered during battle. He pulled off the steel gauntlets to find his hands distorted and alien to what they once were. His left hand was intensely swollen, his right thumb was dislocated. Davios had never had an issue with aligning dislocations, though with his hand being so swollen he was unsure if he was capable of doing this alone. He focussed his attention els… [view original content]
Davios
The sky was dark and the mass crowds aboard the Friendship were silent. A soft rain persisted to pour down on the Friendship and t… morewo other vessels that sailed across the calm Narrow Sea. The deck was quiet, for the exception of the droplets on the wooden decking. Davios sat on the wet floor with his back leaning against the creaking mast. He still wore his steel armour, his sword lay by his feet. The rain slowly washed away the blood that once stained his armour, yet the rain could not wash away his thoughts. His fists were sore from the countless blows and swings he had countered during battle. He pulled off the steel gauntlets to find his hands distorted and alien to what they once were. His left hand was intensely swollen, his right thumb was dislocated. Davios had never had an issue with aligning dislocations, though with his hand being so swollen he was unsure if he was capable of doing this alone. He focussed his attention els… [view original content]
Davios
The sky was dark and the mass crowds aboard the Friendship were silent. A soft rain persisted to pour down on the Friendship and t… morewo other vessels that sailed across the calm Narrow Sea. The deck was quiet, for the exception of the droplets on the wooden decking. Davios sat on the wet floor with his back leaning against the creaking mast. He still wore his steel armour, his sword lay by his feet. The rain slowly washed away the blood that once stained his armour, yet the rain could not wash away his thoughts. His fists were sore from the countless blows and swings he had countered during battle. He pulled off the steel gauntlets to find his hands distorted and alien to what they once were. His left hand was intensely swollen, his right thumb was dislocated. Davios had never had an issue with aligning dislocations, though with his hand being so swollen he was unsure if he was capable of doing this alone. He focussed his attention els… [view original content]
Davios
The sky was dark and the mass crowds aboard the Friendship were silent. A soft rain persisted to pour down on the Friendship and t… morewo other vessels that sailed across the calm Narrow Sea. The deck was quiet, for the exception of the droplets on the wooden decking. Davios sat on the wet floor with his back leaning against the creaking mast. He still wore his steel armour, his sword lay by his feet. The rain slowly washed away the blood that once stained his armour, yet the rain could not wash away his thoughts. His fists were sore from the countless blows and swings he had countered during battle. He pulled off the steel gauntlets to find his hands distorted and alien to what they once were. His left hand was intensely swollen, his right thumb was dislocated. Davios had never had an issue with aligning dislocations, though with his hand being so swollen he was unsure if he was capable of doing this alone. He focussed his attention els… [view original content]
Davios
The sky was dark and the mass crowds aboard the Friendship were silent. A soft rain persisted to pour down on the Friendship and t… morewo other vessels that sailed across the calm Narrow Sea. The deck was quiet, for the exception of the droplets on the wooden decking. Davios sat on the wet floor with his back leaning against the creaking mast. He still wore his steel armour, his sword lay by his feet. The rain slowly washed away the blood that once stained his armour, yet the rain could not wash away his thoughts. His fists were sore from the countless blows and swings he had countered during battle. He pulled off the steel gauntlets to find his hands distorted and alien to what they once were. His left hand was intensely swollen, his right thumb was dislocated. Davios had never had an issue with aligning dislocations, though with his hand being so swollen he was unsure if he was capable of doing this alone. He focussed his attention els… [view original content]
Not too many votes this time, I was hoping the submitter of this character would have had a say in it but oh well. Vote closed! Davios will have the hand amputated.
The woods were dark and quiet, for the exception of the crickets and occasion howling wolf. Torv sat by a small fire that not too long ago he and Rolland had extinguished. Rolland had been on Torv’s mind ever since they escaped Winterfell with the Weeping Stone. Now Torv sat with a thief who could stab him in the back if she wanted to. Torv rested his head against the thick ironwood trunk that had recently been cut down. The wood was strong and durable, and belonged to the Starks. The Wolfswood was dangerous territory. Stark and Barrow - even Bolton - allies lived within the thick woods. If a traveller was fortunate to dodge the constant feuds between the houses, they were likely to encounter deserters from the Night’s Watch. Torv quickly sat up feeling startled as he listened to a howl in the distance, it was close. And wolves. He thought to himself. He looked around for any signs of his thieving companion, though there was nothing but darkness. The boy shrugged and lay his head back as he gazed at the cloudy sky, lit by the moon. The light crackling of the fire kept him alert and awake, though it would not persist for long. Torv stared into the sky for a long while, contemplating on what might of happened if he had made different choices. Gods, I would have still been with Arnold if I had done as he said. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, despite his master being dead he still haunted him in his thoughts. Torv shook his head and stood up. He took a final look around for Rose but still saw nothing. How long does it take a woman to have a leak? Torv shrugged and walked over their horse, which had the stone neatly tucked under the saddle - above the stone was his bronze blade. He grabbed the blade and sheathed it by his side. The steed looked at him with what seemed like unease or confusion.
“Don’t worry, just going for a leak. Be back before you know it.” The horse huffed and stomped its hoofs.
Torv sighed and began to walk into the darkness of the woods. He stared at the ground as he walked, ensuring that he would not trip over any roots or rocks. The ground was damp, worms and other bugs wandered around the moist wasteland. Torv stopped at a tree and undid his pants, letting his waste drain out on the roots. A warm and comforting feeling engulfed him, he felt at ease and relaxed. All at once these feelings flushed out of him when a scream emerged in the distance. Torv felt his heart begin to beat harder and faster. Sweat began to build up on his face and his hands began to shake. The scream belonged to a woman, and that could only mean one thing. Torv quickly finished and unsheathed his sword. He ran back towards the fire, searching desperately for Rose. He arrived to find their horse in distress and panic. Torv ignored the steed and ran to the fire, pulling out a stick which rested in the burning coals. He ripped some fabric off of his tunic and wrapped it around the burning stick to feed the dying fire. Intently listening, he heard the sounds of aggressive barking not too far from him - then another scream. He quickly ran in the direction of the noise, his heart leaping out of his chest. In front of him stood a thornberry bush, about a metre or so tall, and ahead of that was Rose. She stood on the branch of a pine tree holding onto the trunk, below her were three large wolves. Torv’s instincts cried for him to run, though his gut told him otherwise. He ran through the bush, scratching his boiled leather pants and ripping his tunic. He ran at the largest wolf in the middle with his blade held high, he started screaming at the top of his lungs. The beasts turned and the last thing the alpha of the small pack saw was the bronze blade piercing it’s stomach. The wolf squealed in agony, it’s insides slowly pouring out onto the muddy ground below it. A sadness overwhelmed Torv as he watched this once seemingly ferocious beast now turn into an innocent creature licking it’s wounds as it fought for it’s life. The two other wolves slowly approached Torv, and the mutual feeling he had was gone. He held his makeshift torch close, attempting to fend the wolves off. The two slowly got closer, spreading themselves apart so it was harder for Torv to defend himself. The first wolf, a white and gray breed, tried to lunge itself at Torv’s legs, though he was able to dodge the blow. Torv stuck his torch into the animal as it flew passed him, causing into to run off as the side of it’s fur began to burn. The final wolf caught Torv off guard, and pounced on him. Torv stared at the wolf’s beautiful yellow eyes before it began to lunge at his throat. Torv placed his arm in the way and the beast started to maul at it. Torv screamed in agony and continuously punched the wolf with his free arm, though it was persistive. Blood started to drip onto his face and into his eyes, filling his vision with a tint of red. The wolf squealed and quickly released Torv, falling to the ground. In it’s side was a bronze dagger, and over him stood Rose. She offered him her hand, to which he accepted. She swung his unharmed arm over her shoulder. Twenty metres from them was the fire, they would be safe there. Torv looked over to the torch that he had brought with him, it lay on the ground slowly dying out. He began to panic and quickly freed himself from Rose’s grip, falling to the ground as he quickly crawled towards the torch. The flame extinguished as soon as he reached it, leaving them in pure darkness. Torv looked around him, they were surrounded in a black ink which haunted the wood. Torv focussed his attention in front of him as he slowly got up, two yellow dots appeared in the darkness. The two dots were accompanied by two more, then four more, until what was once darkness was not a yellow dots. Rose gasped.
“We need to get out of here, Torv.” She said quietly, fear haunting her words.
Torv nodded and looked to the fire. Twenty metres seemed to look a lot further than it actually was. He looked back to the tree that Rose had climbed, there were a few branches they could climb up. Torv felt the blood draining out of his left arm, a certain weakness came with it. Rose began to panic.
“Come on Torv, where are we going!?” Torv stared into the yellow eyes, which stared back at him.
Torv
The woods were dark and quiet, for the exception of the crickets and occasion howling wolf. Torv sat by a small fire that not too lo… moreng ago he and Rolland had extinguished. Rolland had been on Torv’s mind ever since they escaped Winterfell with the Weeping Stone. Now Torv sat with a thief who could stab him in the back if she wanted to. Torv rested his head against the thick ironwood trunk that had recently been cut down. The wood was strong and durable, and belonged to the Starks. The Wolfswood was dangerous territory. Stark and Barrow - even Bolton - allies lived within the thick woods. If a traveller was fortunate to dodge the constant feuds between the houses, they were likely to encounter deserters from the Night’s Watch. Torv quickly sat up feeling startled as he listened to a howl in the distance, it was close. And wolves. He thought to himself. He looked around for any signs of his thieving companion, though there was nothing b… [view original content]
Torv
The woods were dark and quiet, for the exception of the crickets and occasion howling wolf. Torv sat by a small fire that not too lo… moreng ago he and Rolland had extinguished. Rolland had been on Torv’s mind ever since they escaped Winterfell with the Weeping Stone. Now Torv sat with a thief who could stab him in the back if she wanted to. Torv rested his head against the thick ironwood trunk that had recently been cut down. The wood was strong and durable, and belonged to the Starks. The Wolfswood was dangerous territory. Stark and Barrow - even Bolton - allies lived within the thick woods. If a traveller was fortunate to dodge the constant feuds between the houses, they were likely to encounter deserters from the Night’s Watch. Torv quickly sat up feeling startled as he listened to a howl in the distance, it was close. And wolves. He thought to himself. He looked around for any signs of his thieving companion, though there was nothing b… [view original content]
You specifically mentioned that Torv's arm is wounded and that makes me think that he might be unable to climb the tree. However, his legs aren't wounded and he should be able to run to the fire. I think that sounds less risky than climbing the tree with his wounded arm.
Torv
The woods were dark and quiet, for the exception of the crickets and occasion howling wolf. Torv sat by a small fire that not too lo… moreng ago he and Rolland had extinguished. Rolland had been on Torv’s mind ever since they escaped Winterfell with the Weeping Stone. Now Torv sat with a thief who could stab him in the back if she wanted to. Torv rested his head against the thick ironwood trunk that had recently been cut down. The wood was strong and durable, and belonged to the Starks. The Wolfswood was dangerous territory. Stark and Barrow - even Bolton - allies lived within the thick woods. If a traveller was fortunate to dodge the constant feuds between the houses, they were likely to encounter deserters from the Night’s Watch. Torv quickly sat up feeling startled as he listened to a howl in the distance, it was close. And wolves. He thought to himself. He looked around for any signs of his thieving companion, though there was nothing b… [view original content]
Indeed, though it is a distance and hungry wolves are hungry wolves - fire or not they may attack. Anyway, happy birthday for the other day! Sorry I missed it, these telltale times are always a bit confusing ((
[Run to the fire]
You specifically mentioned that Torv's arm is wounded and that makes me think that he might be unable to climb the tree… more. However, his legs aren't wounded and he should be able to run to the fire. I think that sounds less risky than climbing the tree with his wounded arm.
Torv
The woods were dark and quiet, for the exception of the crickets and occasion howling wolf. Torv sat by a small fire that not too lo… moreng ago he and Rolland had extinguished. Rolland had been on Torv’s mind ever since they escaped Winterfell with the Weeping Stone. Now Torv sat with a thief who could stab him in the back if she wanted to. Torv rested his head against the thick ironwood trunk that had recently been cut down. The wood was strong and durable, and belonged to the Starks. The Wolfswood was dangerous territory. Stark and Barrow - even Bolton - allies lived within the thick woods. If a traveller was fortunate to dodge the constant feuds between the houses, they were likely to encounter deserters from the Night’s Watch. Torv quickly sat up feeling startled as he listened to a howl in the distance, it was close. And wolves. He thought to himself. He looked around for any signs of his thieving companion, though there was nothing b… [view original content]
Not too many votes this time, I was hoping the submitter of this character would have had a say in it but oh well. Vote closed! Davios will have the hand amputated.
Torv
The woods were dark and quiet, for the exception of the crickets and occasion howling wolf. Torv sat by a small fire that not too lo… moreng ago he and Rolland had extinguished. Rolland had been on Torv’s mind ever since they escaped Winterfell with the Weeping Stone. Now Torv sat with a thief who could stab him in the back if she wanted to. Torv rested his head against the thick ironwood trunk that had recently been cut down. The wood was strong and durable, and belonged to the Starks. The Wolfswood was dangerous territory. Stark and Barrow - even Bolton - allies lived within the thick woods. If a traveller was fortunate to dodge the constant feuds between the houses, they were likely to encounter deserters from the Night’s Watch. Torv quickly sat up feeling startled as he listened to a howl in the distance, it was close. And wolves. He thought to himself. He looked around for any signs of his thieving companion, though there was nothing b… [view original content]
Torv
The woods were dark and quiet, for the exception of the crickets and occasion howling wolf. Torv sat by a small fire that not too lo… moreng ago he and Rolland had extinguished. Rolland had been on Torv’s mind ever since they escaped Winterfell with the Weeping Stone. Now Torv sat with a thief who could stab him in the back if she wanted to. Torv rested his head against the thick ironwood trunk that had recently been cut down. The wood was strong and durable, and belonged to the Starks. The Wolfswood was dangerous territory. Stark and Barrow - even Bolton - allies lived within the thick woods. If a traveller was fortunate to dodge the constant feuds between the houses, they were likely to encounter deserters from the Night’s Watch. Torv quickly sat up feeling startled as he listened to a howl in the distance, it was close. And wolves. He thought to himself. He looked around for any signs of his thieving companion, though there was nothing b… [view original content]
Rubble and burnt down buildings replaced the once grand stronghold known as Strong Song. Jarden and his two travelling companions, Cedrick and Paytan, rode through what was once the main gate. Inside the crumbled walls stood tired and weak people who scavenged through their old homes for anything that was still of value. Jarden turned to Paytan, who to his surprise was lacking for words. Cedrick grasped Jarden’s attention as he pointed at something ahead. Jarden gazed in Cedrick’s general direction, but could not see what he was pointing out.
“What is it?” Cedrick sighed and dismounted his steed.
“The Chanting Hall, or what’s left of it…” The young man led his horse over to a pile of rubble, to which he knelt down and examined. Paytan finally found his tongue.
“Who could have the power to do this? Gods.” Jarden observed as Paytan drew his bow. Jarden grasped his shoulder.
“We don’t want to terrorize the people any more than they have recently, we will try to see if any of the Belmore’s are still alive.” Paytan hesitated but nodded. Jarden looked over to Cedrick, who had lifted a burnt corpse out of the rubble. A sword was lodged into the crisped corpse, filling Jarden with both worry and curiosity. Jarden turned to Paytan and sent him off, when he was gone Jarden quickly dismounted his horse and approached Cedrick.
“I think I’ve found the culprit to this siege.” Jarden stared at Cedrick intently with wonder. As if it were a queue, Cedrick pulled out the blade that stuck out of the corpse’s chest. The weapon revealed a wooden hilt with an iron pommel and blade. Jarden raised his eyebrows.
“Andals?” Cedrick nodded in agreement.
“Aye, but it’s likely that they were invaders. The Corbray’s have no reason to do this, they don’t have a navy and they have been trying to forge an alliance with the Belmore’s for years.” Cedrick chucked the sword back into the ruins of the small home and brushed his hands on his tunic. Jarden had nothing else to comment and was lost for words. He quickly found his tongue as he noticed Cedrick was looked awkward.
“We should ask the locals where the person in charge is stationed. I’ve already sent Paytan off to the east. We’ll meet back here but sunfall.” Cedrick nodded and mounted his horse, heading west. That left Jarden to go North, where the ruins of the Chanting Hall remained.
-
Jarden questioned men, women and children for hours as he rode around the piled corpses that filled the streets. He was answered with one word, ‘No.’ Jarden sighed and dismounted his horse, sitting himself on a large stone slab that once was a part of the Chanting Hall. Now the hall barely stood, most of its structure was demolished to the ground. What kind of power could do this? Jarden silently gazed at the remnants of the Chanting Hall. A soft and beautiful smell reached Jarden’s scent, he turned to see a beautiful figure dressed in tight dark leather. She wore a large hat and a mask which covered her nose and mouth. Her hair, falling to the mid of her back, was a light brown and her eyes were a polished silver. Jarden found himself dumbstruck as he looked at this beautiful woman that stood in front of him.
“I heard you were looking for Lord Ethon Belmore, I can take you to him.” Her voice was melodic and beautiful, even if she only spoke in a whisper. Jarden snapped himself out of this ‘love trance’ and looked her in the eyes suspiciously.
“Why would you do that?” The girl laughed, it was a gentle and warm laugh.
“Could you stop staring at me like that?” His eyes looked directly into hers, and if Jarden knew any better the girl he was looking at was smiling at him. He blushed and looked away. “As for your question, I stand for a number of people that wish for the late Lord Ethon to side with King Robar. Gods know we’re doomed if he keeps Strong Song neutral. He is currently at the Melodic Tower, I’ll take you to him if you wish.” Jarden looked at the sky, the sun was setting in the distance. I need to get back to our rendezvous. Jarden frowned.
“I need to inform my travelling companions, perhaps you could wait?” The girl shook her head.
“No one enters the Melodic tower after sunset. We have to go now, or you don’t go at all.” Jarden grunted, feeling distressed. Can I trust her? I don’t even know her, and why is she really wanting to help me? Though, this may be the only chance I get to talk to Lord Ethon…
[Go with her to the Melodic Tower] [Rendezvous with Cedrick and Paytan]
Wow, it's been around 3 weeks since I have posted anything. Well, I'm back now and for the next 2-3 months as exams are finally over! I should be able to post daily, but I can't make any promises Glad to be back again.
Jarden
Rubble and burnt down buildings replaced the once grand stronghold known as Strong Song. Jarden and his two travelling companions,… more Cedrick and Paytan, rode through what was once the main gate. Inside the crumbled walls stood tired and weak people who scavenged through their old homes for anything that was still of value. Jarden turned to Paytan, who to his surprise was lacking for words. Cedrick grasped Jarden’s attention as he pointed at something ahead. Jarden gazed in Cedrick’s general direction, but could not see what he was pointing out.
“What is it?” Cedrick sighed and dismounted his steed.
“The Chanting Hall, or what’s left of it…” The young man led his horse over to a pile of rubble, to which he knelt down and examined. Paytan finally found his tongue.
“Who could have the power to do this? Gods.” Jarden observed as Paytan drew his bow. Jarden grasped his shoulder.
“We don’t want to terrorize the people any more t… [view original content]
[Go with her to the Melodic Tower] As Ted said, it seems really promising. It looks like it's "make it or break it" so IMO we should go for it.
Well, good to have you back ^^
Jarden
Rubble and burnt down buildings replaced the once grand stronghold known as Strong Song. Jarden and his two travelling companions,… more Cedrick and Paytan, rode through what was once the main gate. Inside the crumbled walls stood tired and weak people who scavenged through their old homes for anything that was still of value. Jarden turned to Paytan, who to his surprise was lacking for words. Cedrick grasped Jarden’s attention as he pointed at something ahead. Jarden gazed in Cedrick’s general direction, but could not see what he was pointing out.
“What is it?” Cedrick sighed and dismounted his steed.
“The Chanting Hall, or what’s left of it…” The young man led his horse over to a pile of rubble, to which he knelt down and examined. Paytan finally found his tongue.
“Who could have the power to do this? Gods.” Jarden observed as Paytan drew his bow. Jarden grasped his shoulder.
“We don’t want to terrorize the people any more t… [view original content]
Jarden
Rubble and burnt down buildings replaced the once grand stronghold known as Strong Song. Jarden and his two travelling companions,… more Cedrick and Paytan, rode through what was once the main gate. Inside the crumbled walls stood tired and weak people who scavenged through their old homes for anything that was still of value. Jarden turned to Paytan, who to his surprise was lacking for words. Cedrick grasped Jarden’s attention as he pointed at something ahead. Jarden gazed in Cedrick’s general direction, but could not see what he was pointing out.
“What is it?” Cedrick sighed and dismounted his steed.
“The Chanting Hall, or what’s left of it…” The young man led his horse over to a pile of rubble, to which he knelt down and examined. Paytan finally found his tongue.
“Who could have the power to do this? Gods.” Jarden observed as Paytan drew his bow. Jarden grasped his shoulder.
“We don’t want to terrorize the people any more t… [view original content]
Jarden
Rubble and burnt down buildings replaced the once grand stronghold known as Strong Song. Jarden and his two travelling companions,… more Cedrick and Paytan, rode through what was once the main gate. Inside the crumbled walls stood tired and weak people who scavenged through their old homes for anything that was still of value. Jarden turned to Paytan, who to his surprise was lacking for words. Cedrick grasped Jarden’s attention as he pointed at something ahead. Jarden gazed in Cedrick’s general direction, but could not see what he was pointing out.
“What is it?” Cedrick sighed and dismounted his steed.
“The Chanting Hall, or what’s left of it…” The young man led his horse over to a pile of rubble, to which he knelt down and examined. Paytan finally found his tongue.
“Who could have the power to do this? Gods.” Jarden observed as Paytan drew his bow. Jarden grasped his shoulder.
“We don’t want to terrorize the people any more t… [view original content]
Jarden
Rubble and burnt down buildings replaced the once grand stronghold known as Strong Song. Jarden and his two travelling companions,… more Cedrick and Paytan, rode through what was once the main gate. Inside the crumbled walls stood tired and weak people who scavenged through their old homes for anything that was still of value. Jarden turned to Paytan, who to his surprise was lacking for words. Cedrick grasped Jarden’s attention as he pointed at something ahead. Jarden gazed in Cedrick’s general direction, but could not see what he was pointing out.
“What is it?” Cedrick sighed and dismounted his steed.
“The Chanting Hall, or what’s left of it…” The young man led his horse over to a pile of rubble, to which he knelt down and examined. Paytan finally found his tongue.
“Who could have the power to do this? Gods.” Jarden observed as Paytan drew his bow. Jarden grasped his shoulder.
“We don’t want to terrorize the people any more t… [view original content]
Jarden
Rubble and burnt down buildings replaced the once grand stronghold known as Strong Song. Jarden and his two travelling companions,… more Cedrick and Paytan, rode through what was once the main gate. Inside the crumbled walls stood tired and weak people who scavenged through their old homes for anything that was still of value. Jarden turned to Paytan, who to his surprise was lacking for words. Cedrick grasped Jarden’s attention as he pointed at something ahead. Jarden gazed in Cedrick’s general direction, but could not see what he was pointing out.
“What is it?” Cedrick sighed and dismounted his steed.
“The Chanting Hall, or what’s left of it…” The young man led his horse over to a pile of rubble, to which he knelt down and examined. Paytan finally found his tongue.
“Who could have the power to do this? Gods.” Jarden observed as Paytan drew his bow. Jarden grasped his shoulder.
“We don’t want to terrorize the people any more t… [view original content]
The tavern was filled with laughter and joy, noise that blocked out the sound of droplets colliding with the window that Darren sat adjacent to. The muscular man wore a casual tunic, trying to not look his best in the low tavern, though even this tunic made him stand out. Darren sat alone with his mug of ale, he often came to this tavern to clear his mind of the duties that he held. Darren sighed and downed his fourth mug of ale, the tavern wench quickly came to Darren’s table shortly after. He looked up to her brown eyes and dark brown hair which she wore in a bun. Overall she could have been considered beautiful, though a mole sat on her forehead which lowered her beauty.
“Can I get you another, Ser Darren?” Her voice was high pitched, almost squeaky, it began to get on Darren’s nerves. Darren shook his head respectfully, to which the wench shrugged and turned away.
Darren turned and looked out the window, trying to drown out the noise in the background. This night, Darren felt at his worst. A pain crawled over him which he rarely felt, a sadness which he could not throw away. He was born into a poor farming family in Andalos, consisting of three brothers, three sisters and his parents. When the Great Sickness came it took the lives of everyone in his family, everyone but his young sister Kara. After the loss of his family, the farm became too much for one man to handle. He and Kara moved into the city, to which shortly after he took a ship to Westeros to start his new life as a sellsword. At times, Darren missed the life of a sellsword, but he almost never stopped thinking of his sister. She now lived with her aunt, who was barely able to fend for herself. Darren often sent money and letters to her when he could, mostly informing her about the current situation with the war and how he looks forward to bringing her over when it is over. Darren stared out through the wet pane of glass to the white marble castle in the distance. Heart’s Home. The castle was nearly all marble, with panes of glass consisting of white with a red heart in the middle. As Darren stared, he noticed someone sit opposite his table. He moved his gaze to find a skinny man with long black hair, next to him a giant of a man who was bald.
“I hear you’re the king's favorite knight, interesting to find such a respected warrior in such a low tavern…” The man smirked as he looked Darren in the eyes. Darren straightened himself up and eyed the big man, then the skinnier one.
“Can I help you gentlemen with something?” Random laughter came out of the skinny man sitting in front of him.
“With your service, my lord.” The man laughed again as if he had made a funny joke, the brute next to him laughed as well. “You see, word is that you’re the best fighter around these parts. I want to see that for myself, five hundred gold coins if you can take down my guard.” Darren raised his eyebrow, looking at his opposition. He shook his head.
“Sorry friend, I’m not interested.” The man frowned, though after a minute his face brightened.
“A thousand gold coins. That is my last offer.” Darren grew tired of the conversation, he stood from his chair and straightened his tunic.
“Keep your gold gambler, I said I wasn’t interested.” As Darren began to walk away, he heard the sound of a table flipping over. He turned to see the skinny man’s face as red as a cherry.
“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!” The man took in some breaths, trying to calm himself down. “I am Jorrhen, nephew to the one of the richest men in Andalos: Lorrhen. You will fight my brute, or I will make your life miserable!” Darren’s expression went stern, his calm nature had turned to anger in the click of a man’s fingers.
He turned and walked towards Jorrhen, his bodyguard quickly placed himself in between them. Darren looked the guard up and down, he knew he could put the brute down before he even knew what was happening. Darren grinned to himself, then threw his fist into the groin of the bulky man standing in front of him. A loud yelp of pain filled the air, making everyone go quiet, but the thud against the floorboards was louder. He looked at Jorrhen, his face was filled with shock.
“I guess I’ll be taking those thousand coins now?” Darren quoted, somewhat humorously. Jorrhen spat, his face full of rage.
“You don’t fight with honour, pathetic knight! Someone, anyone! Guard me from this brute!” Darren looked around, everyone was frozen still.
“No one will help you here, little man. Run off before I kick your shiny arse back to Andalos.” The man was full of anger, his hands began to tremble and shake. After a quick moment, he obeyed and quickly left the tavern.
Darren walked over to the guard and hoisted him onto his shoulder, to which he rested him down on a couch at his table. He turned and began to walk to the door, the silence that filled the air was now full of applauds and whistles. Darren chuckled, and left the tavern.
Droplets of rain landed on Darren’s face as he looked into the cloudy sky, he sighed and pulled out the letter that a courier had delivered to him only a few hours ago. On the front it said Kara, it had been the first letter Kara had sent in the last two months. Darren looked up to Heart’s Home, he was supposed to speak to the King this evening. Though recent events had left him feeling drained and impatient, he just wanted to go to his room, read the letter and fall asleep, though the duty of a knight would never rest.
[Meet with the King] [Go home and read Kara’s letter]
This isn't exactly an important part, but it's just an introduction and fleshing of the new PoV.
Darren
The tavern was filled with laughter and joy, noise that blocked out the sound of droplets colliding with the window that Darren sa… moret adjacent to. The muscular man wore a casual tunic, trying to not look his best in the low tavern, though even this tunic made him stand out. Darren sat alone with his mug of ale, he often came to this tavern to clear his mind of the duties that he held. Darren sighed and downed his fourth mug of ale, the tavern wench quickly came to Darren’s table shortly after. He looked up to her brown eyes and dark brown hair which she wore in a bun. Overall she could have been considered beautiful, though a mole sat on her forehead which lowered her beauty.
“Can I get you another, Ser Darren?” Her voice was high pitched, almost squeaky, it began to get on Darren’s nerves. Darren shook his head respectfully, to which the wench shrugged and turned away.
Darren turned and looked out the window, trying to drown ou… [view original content]
Darren
The tavern was filled with laughter and joy, noise that blocked out the sound of droplets colliding with the window that Darren sa… moret adjacent to. The muscular man wore a casual tunic, trying to not look his best in the low tavern, though even this tunic made him stand out. Darren sat alone with his mug of ale, he often came to this tavern to clear his mind of the duties that he held. Darren sighed and downed his fourth mug of ale, the tavern wench quickly came to Darren’s table shortly after. He looked up to her brown eyes and dark brown hair which she wore in a bun. Overall she could have been considered beautiful, though a mole sat on her forehead which lowered her beauty.
“Can I get you another, Ser Darren?” Her voice was high pitched, almost squeaky, it began to get on Darren’s nerves. Darren shook his head respectfully, to which the wench shrugged and turned away.
Darren turned and looked out the window, trying to drown ou… [view original content]
Darren
The tavern was filled with laughter and joy, noise that blocked out the sound of droplets colliding with the window that Darren sa… moret adjacent to. The muscular man wore a casual tunic, trying to not look his best in the low tavern, though even this tunic made him stand out. Darren sat alone with his mug of ale, he often came to this tavern to clear his mind of the duties that he held. Darren sighed and downed his fourth mug of ale, the tavern wench quickly came to Darren’s table shortly after. He looked up to her brown eyes and dark brown hair which she wore in a bun. Overall she could have been considered beautiful, though a mole sat on her forehead which lowered her beauty.
“Can I get you another, Ser Darren?” Her voice was high pitched, almost squeaky, it began to get on Darren’s nerves. Darren shook his head respectfully, to which the wench shrugged and turned away.
Darren turned and looked out the window, trying to drown ou… [view original content]
Darren
The tavern was filled with laughter and joy, noise that blocked out the sound of droplets colliding with the window that Darren sa… moret adjacent to. The muscular man wore a casual tunic, trying to not look his best in the low tavern, though even this tunic made him stand out. Darren sat alone with his mug of ale, he often came to this tavern to clear his mind of the duties that he held. Darren sighed and downed his fourth mug of ale, the tavern wench quickly came to Darren’s table shortly after. He looked up to her brown eyes and dark brown hair which she wore in a bun. Overall she could have been considered beautiful, though a mole sat on her forehead which lowered her beauty.
“Can I get you another, Ser Darren?” Her voice was high pitched, almost squeaky, it began to get on Darren’s nerves. Darren shook his head respectfully, to which the wench shrugged and turned away.
Darren turned and looked out the window, trying to drown ou… [view original content]
Darren He was great in this part! While I'd like for him to read the letter, he mentioned a very good reason to meet with the king right now. He is a knight and his duty to the king does not end just because he is a bit tired.
Darren
The tavern was filled with laughter and joy, noise that blocked out the sound of droplets colliding with the window that Darren sa… moret adjacent to. The muscular man wore a casual tunic, trying to not look his best in the low tavern, though even this tunic made him stand out. Darren sat alone with his mug of ale, he often came to this tavern to clear his mind of the duties that he held. Darren sighed and downed his fourth mug of ale, the tavern wench quickly came to Darren’s table shortly after. He looked up to her brown eyes and dark brown hair which she wore in a bun. Overall she could have been considered beautiful, though a mole sat on her forehead which lowered her beauty.
“Can I get you another, Ser Darren?” Her voice was high pitched, almost squeaky, it began to get on Darren’s nerves. Darren shook his head respectfully, to which the wench shrugged and turned away.
Darren turned and looked out the window, trying to drown ou… [view original content]
Alara and Athena quietly disassembled Athena’s old tent that still stood despite the battle. Little had been said between the two which made Alara feel nervous and uneasy around the oddly-male looking girl. Athena’s pale skin was covered in scars, her eyes were two different colours: brown and red, and she overall stood taller than Alara. After a long and quiet moment, Alara heard the girl sniff. She looked over to see the one ferocious looking teenager now in tears. Alara found herself stupefied, not knowing what to do. She quickly walked over to Athena and wrapped her arms around her, letting the sobbing girl rest against her.
“This tent… The three of us put it up together.” She clumsily wiped away the tears and looked Alara in the eyes. “Kailan and Nalia…” Athena tried to continue but sadness overwhelmed her. Alara gently held onto the girl, trying to think of something to say.
“I never had many friends, but I did have a father that did not love me… He abused me, never treated me like the rest of my siblings. My mother tried to support me, but such a powerful man could not be persuaded to be kind to his daughter, not even by his wife. So I left them, travelled around this land looking for work. It’s been lonely and sometimes too hard to deal with, but we make it through. We have to, for the sake of those who care about us.” Alara gently helped the traumatised girl down into a sitting position, then sat herself next to her. Athena smiled, as if a memory had pleased her, when she noticed Alara was staring she decided to speak her thoughts.
“I was always a fighter, unlike my twin sister: Hera. I loved to fight, and she loved to read. As for our mother, well she would do her best to support us in all means possible, but we were poor. When I was eight, my mother came down with a sickness which ended up killing her. I went out trying to afford enough money to get a doctor, while all my sister ever did was give our mother soup. Gods, I would have thought that with all the books she had read she would have known how to cure our mother, but she didn’t. The day she passed, I was so full of anger I hit my sister. Once I had realised what I had done I ran away, living in dark alleyways and gutters, trying to survive. When I turned fourteen I joined the Stark Army and became known as ‘The Lone Wolf.’ I met Kailan in my first year, and Nalia a few years later.” Tears began to flood Athena’s eyes again. “I suppose I’m a lone wolf again huh?” Alara stood herself up and walked over to Athena, to which she then knelt down in front of her.
“Look at me.” Athena hesitated, but did so. “I won’t leave you to a gutter, or to a dark alleyway. You won’t have to be a lone wolf again, because I will stand by your side. These titles, they mean nothing except for what people portray us as. Don’t give them a reason to think you’re weak, you’re known as the lone wolf for a reason. As I am known as the Nightingale.” Alara stared into Athena’s multi-coloured eyes, she noticed a glint.
“Thanks Alara.” Before Alara could respond, a tap on the shoulder made her swing around. A tall brute of a man loomed over her wearing bronze armour and a custom made helmet which covered his face.
“The King wishes a word with you, Nightingale.” Alara looked at the direwolf engravings on the man’s armour, she nodded and turned to Athena.
“You’ll be okay, we’ll talk soon.” Athena weakly smiled and then moved her attention to packing away her tent.
Alara stood herself up and accompanied the bulky man. His bronze armour was dented but still shone in the sunlight, his bronze longsword still had blood stains on the blade. Alara fingered the pommel of Steel Breaker, thinking of the battle. It had been nearly three days, they were still on Bolton land. The sooner we leave, the better.
“That the blade you killed the Andal Warlord with?” Alara looked at the man and raised an eyebrow. Does everybody know? She hesitated to answer, but then saw no issue in it.
“Aye, Steel Breaker is it’s name.” The man nodded and looked forward.
“You can call me Edmund, though most know me as ‘The Beast.’ I am part of King Theon’s kingsguard. I’ve fought alongside many great men, such as Harmond Hornwill and Steffon Cale, but none have met up to the expertise of King Theon.” The name rang in Alara’s ears, Harmond.
“Harmond? The same Harmond whose head I found rotting in a bag?” The Beast grunted.
“Fucking Bolton’s.” Alara had no argument there, though she did not wish to say anything while they were still on Bolton soil.
-
Many Stark soldiers were packing away their tents or treating the wounded. In front of Alara stood two of Theon’s guards, who were guarding the entrance. Alara and The Beast patiently waited outside the pavilion as the sun fell behind the clouds and the rain began to fall on their heads and shoulders. After what felt like a lifetime, but was likely a few minutes, Steffon Cale exited the tent. His expression was stern, lacking any positive emotion. He nodded to Alara and quickly hurried off, Alara felt that she would need to talk to Steffon in due time as well. The Beast beckoned for Alara to enter the tent, to which she entered alone.
The first thing Alara noticed was the strong smell of incense in the pavilion, then she noticed the destruction of the place.
“Your grace, what has happened?” She asked, somewhat shocked by the state of his majesties expensive furniture.
“A man mourns for his daughter and brother, it is understandable that a few things may be broken along the way. Though that is besides the point, I wish to speak to you of more important matters. If you would like to take a seat…” Theon awkwardly looked around, realising that all of his chairs were broken.
Alara laughed and sat herself on the muddy ground, relaxing her legs from the stress they had been enduring for the past few days. It had not been the first time she had found herself sitting in the mud, and she was sure it would not be her last. She looked up to Theon, who seemed mildly satisfied.
“Please, your grace, will you not join me?” She asked, somewhat jokingly. The man shrugged and sat himself down, resting his back against his destroyed strategy table. After a moment of complete relaxation, Theon began to speak.
“Your efforts in the battle have been noted, and further still your reputation has increased with the death of Argos Sevenstar. I am currently in the process of forming the Third Infantry Battalion, a battalion that I will need to have to fight in the west.” Theon stood himself up, starting to pace around the pavilion. “Harrag Hoare and his Ironborn have begun to raid our lands after noticing that we are distracted by the Andal invaders. They have claimed Bear Island and began to burn swathes of the Wolfswood. I need the Third Infantry Battalion to hold off these pirates until I can ensure that the Andals will not disturb the North again. Only issue with the battalion is, I need a general to lead them. There a number of candidates that could suit this role, you and Steffon Cale are among the top two. I understand that you are merely a sellsword and that this would be a large burden to place on you, so I am happy if you wish to join me when we take the fight to Andalos. Though I need to know now so I can set the battalion in motion, what do you want?”
[Take lead of the Third Infantry Battalion - Go west] [Join Theon in the war against the Andal’s - Go east]
[Take lead of the Third Infantry Battalion - Go west] Steffon will not be able to handle that responsibility in his current state, and that Battalion need to have leader, so clear for me.
Alara
Alara and Athena quietly disassembled Athena’s old tent that still stood despite the battle. Little had been said between the two w… morehich made Alara feel nervous and uneasy around the oddly-male looking girl. Athena’s pale skin was covered in scars, her eyes were two different colours: brown and red, and she overall stood taller than Alara. After a long and quiet moment, Alara heard the girl sniff. She looked over to see the one ferocious looking teenager now in tears. Alara found herself stupefied, not knowing what to do. She quickly walked over to Athena and wrapped her arms around her, letting the sobbing girl rest against her.
“This tent… The three of us put it up together.” She clumsily wiped away the tears and looked Alara in the eyes. “Kailan and Nalia…” Athena tried to continue but sadness overwhelmed her. Alara gently held onto the girl, trying to think of something to say.
“I never had many friends, but I did have a fat… [view original content]
Perhaps, but do keep in mind she is a 22 yr old sellsword with little war strategical experience, the kind of experience Steffon does have. The only reason Theon really offered Alara the role is because she is one of the few people he can actually trust to get the job done, like Steffon. I personally know what I would choose, but yeah. Steffon's stability isn't all that stable at current, and could lead to issues, though so could an inexperienced girl with little interest in it. Just something for y'all to ponder about, it's a big-ish choice.
[Take lead of the Third Infantry Battalion - Go west] Steffon will not be able to handle that responsibility in his current state, and that Battalion need to have leader, so clear for me.
[Join Theon in the war against the Andal’s - Go east]
I have a bad feeling for the Ironborn and I really don't want Alara to fight against them. I mean, neither option will be safe for her, but the Ironborn, especially the Hoare's, are not the kind of people I want her to fight against. So,hopefully I'm not going to regret this, but I think going to war against the Andals is by far the safer option for her.
Alara
Alara and Athena quietly disassembled Athena’s old tent that still stood despite the battle. Little had been said between the two w… morehich made Alara feel nervous and uneasy around the oddly-male looking girl. Athena’s pale skin was covered in scars, her eyes were two different colours: brown and red, and she overall stood taller than Alara. After a long and quiet moment, Alara heard the girl sniff. She looked over to see the one ferocious looking teenager now in tears. Alara found herself stupefied, not knowing what to do. She quickly walked over to Athena and wrapped her arms around her, letting the sobbing girl rest against her.
“This tent… The three of us put it up together.” She clumsily wiped away the tears and looked Alara in the eyes. “Kailan and Nalia…” Athena tried to continue but sadness overwhelmed her. Alara gently held onto the girl, trying to think of something to say.
“I never had many friends, but I did have a fat… [view original content]
Alara
Alara and Athena quietly disassembled Athena’s old tent that still stood despite the battle. Little had been said between the two w… morehich made Alara feel nervous and uneasy around the oddly-male looking girl. Athena’s pale skin was covered in scars, her eyes were two different colours: brown and red, and she overall stood taller than Alara. After a long and quiet moment, Alara heard the girl sniff. She looked over to see the one ferocious looking teenager now in tears. Alara found herself stupefied, not knowing what to do. She quickly walked over to Athena and wrapped her arms around her, letting the sobbing girl rest against her.
“This tent… The three of us put it up together.” She clumsily wiped away the tears and looked Alara in the eyes. “Kailan and Nalia…” Athena tried to continue but sadness overwhelmed her. Alara gently held onto the girl, trying to think of something to say.
“I never had many friends, but I did have a fat… [view original content]
Alara
Alara and Athena quietly disassembled Athena’s old tent that still stood despite the battle. Little had been said between the two w… morehich made Alara feel nervous and uneasy around the oddly-male looking girl. Athena’s pale skin was covered in scars, her eyes were two different colours: brown and red, and she overall stood taller than Alara. After a long and quiet moment, Alara heard the girl sniff. She looked over to see the one ferocious looking teenager now in tears. Alara found herself stupefied, not knowing what to do. She quickly walked over to Athena and wrapped her arms around her, letting the sobbing girl rest against her.
“This tent… The three of us put it up together.” She clumsily wiped away the tears and looked Alara in the eyes. “Kailan and Nalia…” Athena tried to continue but sadness overwhelmed her. Alara gently held onto the girl, trying to think of something to say.
“I never had many friends, but I did have a fat… [view original content]
Alara
Alara and Athena quietly disassembled Athena’s old tent that still stood despite the battle. Little had been said between the two w… morehich made Alara feel nervous and uneasy around the oddly-male looking girl. Athena’s pale skin was covered in scars, her eyes were two different colours: brown and red, and she overall stood taller than Alara. After a long and quiet moment, Alara heard the girl sniff. She looked over to see the one ferocious looking teenager now in tears. Alara found herself stupefied, not knowing what to do. She quickly walked over to Athena and wrapped her arms around her, letting the sobbing girl rest against her.
“This tent… The three of us put it up together.” She clumsily wiped away the tears and looked Alara in the eyes. “Kailan and Nalia…” Athena tried to continue but sadness overwhelmed her. Alara gently held onto the girl, trying to think of something to say.
“I never had many friends, but I did have a fat… [view original content]
Alara
Alara and Athena quietly disassembled Athena’s old tent that still stood despite the battle. Little had been said between the two w… morehich made Alara feel nervous and uneasy around the oddly-male looking girl. Athena’s pale skin was covered in scars, her eyes were two different colours: brown and red, and she overall stood taller than Alara. After a long and quiet moment, Alara heard the girl sniff. She looked over to see the one ferocious looking teenager now in tears. Alara found herself stupefied, not knowing what to do. She quickly walked over to Athena and wrapped her arms around her, letting the sobbing girl rest against her.
“This tent… The three of us put it up together.” She clumsily wiped away the tears and looked Alara in the eyes. “Kailan and Nalia…” Athena tried to continue but sadness overwhelmed her. Alara gently held onto the girl, trying to think of something to say.
“I never had many friends, but I did have a fat… [view original content]
Torv
The woods were dark and quiet, for the exception of the crickets and occasion howling wolf. Torv sat by a small fire that not too lo… moreng ago he and Rolland had extinguished. Rolland had been on Torv’s mind ever since they escaped Winterfell with the Weeping Stone. Now Torv sat with a thief who could stab him in the back if she wanted to. Torv rested his head against the thick ironwood trunk that had recently been cut down. The wood was strong and durable, and belonged to the Starks. The Wolfswood was dangerous territory. Stark and Barrow - even Bolton - allies lived within the thick woods. If a traveller was fortunate to dodge the constant feuds between the houses, they were likely to encounter deserters from the Night’s Watch. Torv quickly sat up feeling startled as he listened to a howl in the distance, it was close. And wolves. He thought to himself. He looked around for any signs of his thieving companion, though there was nothing b… [view original content]
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Davios
The sky was dark and the mass crowds aboard the Friendship were silent. A soft rain persisted to pour down on the Friendship and two other vessels that sailed across the calm Narrow Sea. The deck was quiet, for the exception of the droplets on the wooden decking. Davios sat on the wet floor with his back leaning against the creaking mast. He still wore his steel armour, his sword lay by his feet. The rain slowly washed away the blood that once stained his armour, yet the rain could not wash away his thoughts. His fists were sore from the countless blows and swings he had countered during battle. He pulled off the steel gauntlets to find his hands distorted and alien to what they once were. His left hand was intensely swollen, his right thumb was dislocated. Davios had never had an issue with aligning dislocations, though with his hand being so swollen he was unsure if he was capable of doing this alone. He focussed his attention elsewhere, searching for someone that may aid him.
He stared at each of the figures that were cloaked in darkness, there were few. Many of the soldiers slept in the bunks below, or simply sat and wept out of the rain. A sudden flash caught Davios attention, he looked over to the stairs that ascended to the upper deck and cockpit. A light - candle or lantern - emitted from under the stairs, and a small figure sat there quietly staring at something. Davios stood himself up and slowly walked to the light that brightened the stairs. His bones ached and his muscles were sore, walking was a burden to his legs. The final few metres to the stairs felt like the Seven Hells, and to his disappointed he found Jorio. There he sat, with blood on his face, reading the same old book he had been for this entire voyage. If Davios was in a right state of consciousness he may have been polite, but war had made him tired and irritable. His manners had left him.
“Seven Hells Jorio, what is it about you and that damned book!” Jorio looked up, seeming a little surprised. He nervously smiled at Davios and then looked back to the pages of his book. He flipped to the front cover and revealed the title. Him of Many Faces.
“It’s about the Many-Faced God. When I went to Braavos many years ago I bought this book, though since then I have never really had a chance to read it…” Davios held down his anger, fighting it with his honour and respect. He is still reading a book, despite everything that has happened. Davios shook his head, trying his best to clear it of the frustration.
“Where is Hughie?” Davios watched Jorio’s face blush a light red. His eyes seemed as if they were filled with anger or jealousy. Jorio looked up to Davios and smiled, though Davios could see a deep anger in the boy’s eyes.
“He’s with Vysela, down below.” Davios wanted to be concerned on Jorio’s recent behaviour, though he was tired of all the nonsense with Harlan and Jorio’s seeming deception. He shrugged it off and left Jorio to his book.
-
The hull was filled with weary and injured soldiers who lay on bunks or the floor. Despite the occasional groan or weep, the hull was rather quiet. Davios silently stepped over the sleeping men and women on the floors in between the bunks. Agony and pain rushed through his limbs making him want to scream, yet a certain urge made him fight through it and keep quiet. To his disappointment his bunk was filled by a wounded soldier. Davios grunted and looked around for a spare bed. Nothing. All hope seemed lost for a restful night, yet an opportunity called to him. A whisper that called his name. He turned to see Piggy standing behind him, his eyes carried black bags under them. Piggy looked down to Davios’ hands, then focussed his attention back to Davios.
“How about we get you fixed up eh?” Davios slightly nodded, then followed the round man through the masses of slumbered bodies that rested on the floor. Piggy led Davios into a small room with barrels and crates full of salted meats and fresh water. He shut the door and let out a sigh. He beckoned for Davios to sit down.
“The battle was hopeless, useless. We gained nothing as expected, just another warlord trying to prove their worth.” Davios squirmed as he sat down on a low crate. It felt as if every muscle in his body ached, his hand especially. He looked up to the big round man and raised his eye.
“What do you mean ‘as expected’?” Piggy chuckled to himself as he placed the lantern down on a barrel next to Davios. He opened a crate and pulled out some bandages and cloth. He walked over to Davios, knelt down and inspected his left hand.
“Well it would seem that is broken, though bandaging when it’s swelled like this will be useless.” Piggy pulled out his dagger from the sheath on his waist and hovered it over Davios’ hand. “I’ll need to get rid of some of the blood, with your permission…” Davios was highly against the idea, though he knew it was likely he would lose the hand if it was not treated. He nodded slightly.
“Do it.” Piggy put a gash through Davios’ palm and waited as the blood slowly poured out and onto the wooden floor.
“As I was saying, it was expected we would lose. Argos Sevenstar was persistent, he had never lost a fight in his life. He convinced Noriphos that he could take the North when no one else could, turns out he failed all the same.” Shock and disappointment filled Davios all at once. We are all disposable. He thought to himself as the blood finally dissipated. Piggy looked up at Davios and frowned. “I was hoping you would have passed out from the blood… This is going to hurt.” Piggy raised Davios’ hand in the air and began to apply the padding. As soon as the cotton made contact with Davios’ hand pure agony rushed through him, causing him to yell in pain. His vision grew cloudy and dark, he looked to Piggy for comfort but found none. The last thing he remembered was the door to the storage room opening, and a beautiful figure entering.
-
Light. Beams of sunshine finding its way through the cracks in the wooden hull. Davios awoke to find the hull was lit with natural lights of the sky. Next to him sat Hughie Arryn and Vysela, whom were both embracing and grieving. Davios tried to speak but his voice was weak and soft. He raised his bandaged hand until Hughie finally noticed him.
“Davios! You’re awake!” He quickly sat by his side, being a little more rough than Davios wished. He grunted in reply, making Hughie instantly apologise. Vysela stood and nodded, then left. The two awkwardly watched as the stunningly beautiful woman left their presence and ascended the stairs to the deck. Davios focussed his attention the the young lad in front of him. He grinned as if it was the happiest day in his life.
“We were worried Davios! We didn’t know if you were going to come back or if the Seven had taken you for good.” Davios raised his eyebrow, feeling somewhat confused.
“What do you mean? How long have I been out…?” Hughie sighed, appearing saddened or distressed.
“Three days. Half the wounded have died of their wounds and Harlan ordered that they had their bodies tossed overboard. He was about to have his crew do the same to you, but I stopped them. I may only have one eye, but I’m still a better fighter than half of the soldiers on this vessel.” Hughie’s cockiness made Davios chuckle, yet even lightly it was still painful.
Vysela returned with Piggy by her side. Vysela’s face was unreadable, but Piggy’s showed great distress. He knelt down next to Davios and frowned.
“Damn you Davios, you should have either passed out or fainted. Now you fight for your life in this bed like the rest of the wounded.” Davios was puzzled by the man’s attitude, he could not identify whether he was angry or upset with him - perhaps both. Vysela walked over to Hughie and grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Perhaps we should give your friend some time. He will not like what he will hear.” Hughie looked up to Vysela, then back at Davios. He nodded regretfully and left with the beautiful Valyrian. Davios looked at Piggy with a dissatisfied look. Whatever this is, it can’t be good.
“Right well, I owe you an explanation.” Davios nodded, causing Piggy to frown again. “Don’t do that, it makes me feel responsible. When you went unconscious, you were clumsy enough to let your hand fall into someone else's blood. Well now it’s infected. I’m not going to be wishy washy about this because I know the consequences of infection. If this isn’t treated soon, the infection will kill you. We don’t know when we will get to Andalos, but with any luck it will be soon. So here are our options. One, we amputate your hand… Or two, we wait it out and hope we make it to Andalos in time to get you to someone who can save your hand.” Davios looked the man deep in the eyes, trying to find some flaw or error to this surely fake seriousness: there was none. He sighed and looked down to his left hand, an uncertain weakness had burdened it.
“I will… Need some time to decide.” Piggy nodded, standing up and starting to walk off. Davios quickly grabbed him while he was still close enough. He turned and looked Davios in the eye with curiosity and sorrow.
“I need to speak with Vysela, could you bring her back soon?” The fat man nodded and Davios released him. He quickly disappeared and left Davios to his thoughts, which were all heavily negative.
[Have the hand amputated] [Leave it be]
[Have the hand amputated] Maybe I'm crazy, but I don't want to risk his life.
[Have the hand amputated]
Better safe than sorry. If the infection gets worse, he might die before they even reach Andalos.
[Have the hand amputated]
[Leave it be]
[Have the hand amputated]
Not too many votes this time, I was hoping the submitter of this character would have had a say in it but oh well. Vote closed! Davios will have the hand amputated.
Torv
The woods were dark and quiet, for the exception of the crickets and occasion howling wolf. Torv sat by a small fire that not too long ago he and Rolland had extinguished. Rolland had been on Torv’s mind ever since they escaped Winterfell with the Weeping Stone. Now Torv sat with a thief who could stab him in the back if she wanted to. Torv rested his head against the thick ironwood trunk that had recently been cut down. The wood was strong and durable, and belonged to the Starks. The Wolfswood was dangerous territory. Stark and Barrow - even Bolton - allies lived within the thick woods. If a traveller was fortunate to dodge the constant feuds between the houses, they were likely to encounter deserters from the Night’s Watch. Torv quickly sat up feeling startled as he listened to a howl in the distance, it was close. And wolves. He thought to himself. He looked around for any signs of his thieving companion, though there was nothing but darkness. The boy shrugged and lay his head back as he gazed at the cloudy sky, lit by the moon. The light crackling of the fire kept him alert and awake, though it would not persist for long. Torv stared into the sky for a long while, contemplating on what might of happened if he had made different choices. Gods, I would have still been with Arnold if I had done as he said. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, despite his master being dead he still haunted him in his thoughts. Torv shook his head and stood up. He took a final look around for Rose but still saw nothing. How long does it take a woman to have a leak? Torv shrugged and walked over their horse, which had the stone neatly tucked under the saddle - above the stone was his bronze blade. He grabbed the blade and sheathed it by his side. The steed looked at him with what seemed like unease or confusion.
“Don’t worry, just going for a leak. Be back before you know it.” The horse huffed and stomped its hoofs.
Torv sighed and began to walk into the darkness of the woods. He stared at the ground as he walked, ensuring that he would not trip over any roots or rocks. The ground was damp, worms and other bugs wandered around the moist wasteland. Torv stopped at a tree and undid his pants, letting his waste drain out on the roots. A warm and comforting feeling engulfed him, he felt at ease and relaxed. All at once these feelings flushed out of him when a scream emerged in the distance. Torv felt his heart begin to beat harder and faster. Sweat began to build up on his face and his hands began to shake. The scream belonged to a woman, and that could only mean one thing. Torv quickly finished and unsheathed his sword. He ran back towards the fire, searching desperately for Rose. He arrived to find their horse in distress and panic. Torv ignored the steed and ran to the fire, pulling out a stick which rested in the burning coals. He ripped some fabric off of his tunic and wrapped it around the burning stick to feed the dying fire. Intently listening, he heard the sounds of aggressive barking not too far from him - then another scream. He quickly ran in the direction of the noise, his heart leaping out of his chest. In front of him stood a thornberry bush, about a metre or so tall, and ahead of that was Rose. She stood on the branch of a pine tree holding onto the trunk, below her were three large wolves. Torv’s instincts cried for him to run, though his gut told him otherwise. He ran through the bush, scratching his boiled leather pants and ripping his tunic. He ran at the largest wolf in the middle with his blade held high, he started screaming at the top of his lungs. The beasts turned and the last thing the alpha of the small pack saw was the bronze blade piercing it’s stomach. The wolf squealed in agony, it’s insides slowly pouring out onto the muddy ground below it. A sadness overwhelmed Torv as he watched this once seemingly ferocious beast now turn into an innocent creature licking it’s wounds as it fought for it’s life. The two other wolves slowly approached Torv, and the mutual feeling he had was gone. He held his makeshift torch close, attempting to fend the wolves off. The two slowly got closer, spreading themselves apart so it was harder for Torv to defend himself. The first wolf, a white and gray breed, tried to lunge itself at Torv’s legs, though he was able to dodge the blow. Torv stuck his torch into the animal as it flew passed him, causing into to run off as the side of it’s fur began to burn. The final wolf caught Torv off guard, and pounced on him. Torv stared at the wolf’s beautiful yellow eyes before it began to lunge at his throat. Torv placed his arm in the way and the beast started to maul at it. Torv screamed in agony and continuously punched the wolf with his free arm, though it was persistive. Blood started to drip onto his face and into his eyes, filling his vision with a tint of red. The wolf squealed and quickly released Torv, falling to the ground. In it’s side was a bronze dagger, and over him stood Rose. She offered him her hand, to which he accepted. She swung his unharmed arm over her shoulder. Twenty metres from them was the fire, they would be safe there. Torv looked over to the torch that he had brought with him, it lay on the ground slowly dying out. He began to panic and quickly freed himself from Rose’s grip, falling to the ground as he quickly crawled towards the torch. The flame extinguished as soon as he reached it, leaving them in pure darkness. Torv looked around him, they were surrounded in a black ink which haunted the wood. Torv focussed his attention in front of him as he slowly got up, two yellow dots appeared in the darkness. The two dots were accompanied by two more, then four more, until what was once darkness was not a yellow dots. Rose gasped.
“We need to get out of here, Torv.” She said quietly, fear haunting her words.
Torv nodded and looked to the fire. Twenty metres seemed to look a lot further than it actually was. He looked back to the tree that Rose had climbed, there were a few branches they could climb up. Torv felt the blood draining out of his left arm, a certain weakness came with it. Rose began to panic.
“Come on Torv, where are we going!?” Torv stared into the yellow eyes, which stared back at him.
[Run to the fire] [Climb the tree]
Well, that's madness, but I have to see what happens, so [Run to the fire]
[Run to the fire]
[Run to the fire]
You specifically mentioned that Torv's arm is wounded and that makes me think that he might be unable to climb the tree. However, his legs aren't wounded and he should be able to run to the fire. I think that sounds less risky than climbing the tree with his wounded arm.
Indeed, though it is a distance and hungry wolves are hungry wolves - fire or not they may attack. Anyway, happy birthday for the other day! Sorry I missed it, these telltale times are always a bit confusing
((
[Run to the fire]
Sorry, totally missed this one! But if you are interested I would have voted for the amputation.
[Run to the fire]
[Run to the fire]
Jarden
Rubble and burnt down buildings replaced the once grand stronghold known as Strong Song. Jarden and his two travelling companions, Cedrick and Paytan, rode through what was once the main gate. Inside the crumbled walls stood tired and weak people who scavenged through their old homes for anything that was still of value. Jarden turned to Paytan, who to his surprise was lacking for words. Cedrick grasped Jarden’s attention as he pointed at something ahead. Jarden gazed in Cedrick’s general direction, but could not see what he was pointing out.
“What is it?” Cedrick sighed and dismounted his steed.
“The Chanting Hall, or what’s left of it…” The young man led his horse over to a pile of rubble, to which he knelt down and examined. Paytan finally found his tongue.
“Who could have the power to do this? Gods.” Jarden observed as Paytan drew his bow. Jarden grasped his shoulder.
“We don’t want to terrorize the people any more than they have recently, we will try to see if any of the Belmore’s are still alive.” Paytan hesitated but nodded. Jarden looked over to Cedrick, who had lifted a burnt corpse out of the rubble. A sword was lodged into the crisped corpse, filling Jarden with both worry and curiosity. Jarden turned to Paytan and sent him off, when he was gone Jarden quickly dismounted his horse and approached Cedrick.
“I think I’ve found the culprit to this siege.” Jarden stared at Cedrick intently with wonder. As if it were a queue, Cedrick pulled out the blade that stuck out of the corpse’s chest. The weapon revealed a wooden hilt with an iron pommel and blade. Jarden raised his eyebrows.
“Andals?” Cedrick nodded in agreement.
“Aye, but it’s likely that they were invaders. The Corbray’s have no reason to do this, they don’t have a navy and they have been trying to forge an alliance with the Belmore’s for years.” Cedrick chucked the sword back into the ruins of the small home and brushed his hands on his tunic. Jarden had nothing else to comment and was lost for words. He quickly found his tongue as he noticed Cedrick was looked awkward.
“We should ask the locals where the person in charge is stationed. I’ve already sent Paytan off to the east. We’ll meet back here but sunfall.” Cedrick nodded and mounted his horse, heading west. That left Jarden to go North, where the ruins of the Chanting Hall remained.
-
Jarden questioned men, women and children for hours as he rode around the piled corpses that filled the streets. He was answered with one word, ‘No.’ Jarden sighed and dismounted his horse, sitting himself on a large stone slab that once was a part of the Chanting Hall. Now the hall barely stood, most of its structure was demolished to the ground. What kind of power could do this? Jarden silently gazed at the remnants of the Chanting Hall. A soft and beautiful smell reached Jarden’s scent, he turned to see a beautiful figure dressed in tight dark leather. She wore a large hat and a mask which covered her nose and mouth. Her hair, falling to the mid of her back, was a light brown and her eyes were a polished silver. Jarden found himself dumbstruck as he looked at this beautiful woman that stood in front of him.
“I heard you were looking for Lord Ethon Belmore, I can take you to him.” Her voice was melodic and beautiful, even if she only spoke in a whisper. Jarden snapped himself out of this ‘love trance’ and looked her in the eyes suspiciously.
“Why would you do that?” The girl laughed, it was a gentle and warm laugh.
“Could you stop staring at me like that?” His eyes looked directly into hers, and if Jarden knew any better the girl he was looking at was smiling at him. He blushed and looked away. “As for your question, I stand for a number of people that wish for the late Lord Ethon to side with King Robar. Gods know we’re doomed if he keeps Strong Song neutral. He is currently at the Melodic Tower, I’ll take you to him if you wish.” Jarden looked at the sky, the sun was setting in the distance. I need to get back to our rendezvous. Jarden frowned.
“I need to inform my travelling companions, perhaps you could wait?” The girl shook her head.
“No one enters the Melodic tower after sunset. We have to go now, or you don’t go at all.” Jarden grunted, feeling distressed. Can I trust her? I don’t even know her, and why is she really wanting to help me? Though, this may be the only chance I get to talk to Lord Ethon…
[Go with her to the Melodic Tower] [Rendezvous with Cedrick and Paytan]
Wow, it's been around 3 weeks since I have posted anything. Well, I'm back now and for the next 2-3 months as exams are finally over! I should be able to post daily, but I can't make any promises
Glad to be back again.
[Go with her to the Melodic Tower] It does sound a bit fishy, but well... maybe it is worth a try? Hopefully I'm not going to regret this.
By the way, it's great that this story is back! I've really missed it
[Go with her to the Melodic Tower] As Ted said, it seems really promising. It looks like it's "make it or break it" so IMO we should go for it.
Well, good to have you back ^^
[Go with her to the Melodic Tower] I am suspicious, but this is the more interesting choice.
[Rendezvous with Cedrick and Paytan]
[Go with her to the Melodic Tower]
[Go with her to the Melodic Tower]
Alright, this vote was clear so Vote Closed! Jarden will go with her to the Melodic Tower.
Next part introduces a new PoV who is fighting for the Corbray's, his name is Darren Tyrner.
Darren
The tavern was filled with laughter and joy, noise that blocked out the sound of droplets colliding with the window that Darren sat adjacent to. The muscular man wore a casual tunic, trying to not look his best in the low tavern, though even this tunic made him stand out. Darren sat alone with his mug of ale, he often came to this tavern to clear his mind of the duties that he held. Darren sighed and downed his fourth mug of ale, the tavern wench quickly came to Darren’s table shortly after. He looked up to her brown eyes and dark brown hair which she wore in a bun. Overall she could have been considered beautiful, though a mole sat on her forehead which lowered her beauty.
“Can I get you another, Ser Darren?” Her voice was high pitched, almost squeaky, it began to get on Darren’s nerves. Darren shook his head respectfully, to which the wench shrugged and turned away.
Darren turned and looked out the window, trying to drown out the noise in the background. This night, Darren felt at his worst. A pain crawled over him which he rarely felt, a sadness which he could not throw away. He was born into a poor farming family in Andalos, consisting of three brothers, three sisters and his parents. When the Great Sickness came it took the lives of everyone in his family, everyone but his young sister Kara. After the loss of his family, the farm became too much for one man to handle. He and Kara moved into the city, to which shortly after he took a ship to Westeros to start his new life as a sellsword. At times, Darren missed the life of a sellsword, but he almost never stopped thinking of his sister. She now lived with her aunt, who was barely able to fend for herself. Darren often sent money and letters to her when he could, mostly informing her about the current situation with the war and how he looks forward to bringing her over when it is over. Darren stared out through the wet pane of glass to the white marble castle in the distance. Heart’s Home. The castle was nearly all marble, with panes of glass consisting of white with a red heart in the middle. As Darren stared, he noticed someone sit opposite his table. He moved his gaze to find a skinny man with long black hair, next to him a giant of a man who was bald.
“I hear you’re the king's favorite knight, interesting to find such a respected warrior in such a low tavern…” The man smirked as he looked Darren in the eyes. Darren straightened himself up and eyed the big man, then the skinnier one.
“Can I help you gentlemen with something?” Random laughter came out of the skinny man sitting in front of him.
“With your service, my lord.” The man laughed again as if he had made a funny joke, the brute next to him laughed as well. “You see, word is that you’re the best fighter around these parts. I want to see that for myself, five hundred gold coins if you can take down my guard.” Darren raised his eyebrow, looking at his opposition. He shook his head.
“Sorry friend, I’m not interested.” The man frowned, though after a minute his face brightened.
“A thousand gold coins. That is my last offer.” Darren grew tired of the conversation, he stood from his chair and straightened his tunic.
“Keep your gold gambler, I said I wasn’t interested.” As Darren began to walk away, he heard the sound of a table flipping over. He turned to see the skinny man’s face as red as a cherry.
“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!” The man took in some breaths, trying to calm himself down. “I am Jorrhen, nephew to the one of the richest men in Andalos: Lorrhen. You will fight my brute, or I will make your life miserable!” Darren’s expression went stern, his calm nature had turned to anger in the click of a man’s fingers.
He turned and walked towards Jorrhen, his bodyguard quickly placed himself in between them. Darren looked the guard up and down, he knew he could put the brute down before he even knew what was happening. Darren grinned to himself, then threw his fist into the groin of the bulky man standing in front of him. A loud yelp of pain filled the air, making everyone go quiet, but the thud against the floorboards was louder. He looked at Jorrhen, his face was filled with shock.
“I guess I’ll be taking those thousand coins now?” Darren quoted, somewhat humorously. Jorrhen spat, his face full of rage.
“You don’t fight with honour, pathetic knight! Someone, anyone! Guard me from this brute!” Darren looked around, everyone was frozen still.
“No one will help you here, little man. Run off before I kick your shiny arse back to Andalos.” The man was full of anger, his hands began to tremble and shake. After a quick moment, he obeyed and quickly left the tavern.
Darren walked over to the guard and hoisted him onto his shoulder, to which he rested him down on a couch at his table. He turned and began to walk to the door, the silence that filled the air was now full of applauds and whistles. Darren chuckled, and left the tavern.
Droplets of rain landed on Darren’s face as he looked into the cloudy sky, he sighed and pulled out the letter that a courier had delivered to him only a few hours ago. On the front it said Kara, it had been the first letter Kara had sent in the last two months. Darren looked up to Heart’s Home, he was supposed to speak to the King this evening. Though recent events had left him feeling drained and impatient, he just wanted to go to his room, read the letter and fall asleep, though the duty of a knight would never rest.
[Meet with the King] [Go home and read Kara’s letter]
This isn't exactly an important part, but it's just an introduction and fleshing of the new PoV.
[Meet with the King] He can read the letter later. I hope.
[Meet with the King] I agree with TheAPlegends.^^
[Meet with the King] Rather simple, King shouldn't wait.
[Meet with the King]
[Meet with the King]
Darren
He was great in this part! While I'd like for him to read the letter, he mentioned a very good reason to meet with the king right now. He is a knight and his duty to the king does not end just because he is a bit tired.
Another clear vote, Darren will put aside is tiredness and meet with the King.
Next part takes back to our favorite sellsword in the north.
Alara
Alara and Athena quietly disassembled Athena’s old tent that still stood despite the battle. Little had been said between the two which made Alara feel nervous and uneasy around the oddly-male looking girl. Athena’s pale skin was covered in scars, her eyes were two different colours: brown and red, and she overall stood taller than Alara. After a long and quiet moment, Alara heard the girl sniff. She looked over to see the one ferocious looking teenager now in tears. Alara found herself stupefied, not knowing what to do. She quickly walked over to Athena and wrapped her arms around her, letting the sobbing girl rest against her.
“This tent… The three of us put it up together.” She clumsily wiped away the tears and looked Alara in the eyes. “Kailan and Nalia…” Athena tried to continue but sadness overwhelmed her. Alara gently held onto the girl, trying to think of something to say.
“I never had many friends, but I did have a father that did not love me… He abused me, never treated me like the rest of my siblings. My mother tried to support me, but such a powerful man could not be persuaded to be kind to his daughter, not even by his wife. So I left them, travelled around this land looking for work. It’s been lonely and sometimes too hard to deal with, but we make it through. We have to, for the sake of those who care about us.” Alara gently helped the traumatised girl down into a sitting position, then sat herself next to her. Athena smiled, as if a memory had pleased her, when she noticed Alara was staring she decided to speak her thoughts.
“I was always a fighter, unlike my twin sister: Hera. I loved to fight, and she loved to read. As for our mother, well she would do her best to support us in all means possible, but we were poor. When I was eight, my mother came down with a sickness which ended up killing her. I went out trying to afford enough money to get a doctor, while all my sister ever did was give our mother soup. Gods, I would have thought that with all the books she had read she would have known how to cure our mother, but she didn’t. The day she passed, I was so full of anger I hit my sister. Once I had realised what I had done I ran away, living in dark alleyways and gutters, trying to survive. When I turned fourteen I joined the Stark Army and became known as ‘The Lone Wolf.’ I met Kailan in my first year, and Nalia a few years later.” Tears began to flood Athena’s eyes again. “I suppose I’m a lone wolf again huh?” Alara stood herself up and walked over to Athena, to which she then knelt down in front of her.
“Look at me.” Athena hesitated, but did so. “I won’t leave you to a gutter, or to a dark alleyway. You won’t have to be a lone wolf again, because I will stand by your side. These titles, they mean nothing except for what people portray us as. Don’t give them a reason to think you’re weak, you’re known as the lone wolf for a reason. As I am known as the Nightingale.” Alara stared into Athena’s multi-coloured eyes, she noticed a glint.
“Thanks Alara.” Before Alara could respond, a tap on the shoulder made her swing around. A tall brute of a man loomed over her wearing bronze armour and a custom made helmet which covered his face.
“The King wishes a word with you, Nightingale.” Alara looked at the direwolf engravings on the man’s armour, she nodded and turned to Athena.
“You’ll be okay, we’ll talk soon.” Athena weakly smiled and then moved her attention to packing away her tent.
Alara stood herself up and accompanied the bulky man. His bronze armour was dented but still shone in the sunlight, his bronze longsword still had blood stains on the blade. Alara fingered the pommel of Steel Breaker, thinking of the battle. It had been nearly three days, they were still on Bolton land. The sooner we leave, the better.
“That the blade you killed the Andal Warlord with?” Alara looked at the man and raised an eyebrow. Does everybody know? She hesitated to answer, but then saw no issue in it.
“Aye, Steel Breaker is it’s name.” The man nodded and looked forward.
“You can call me Edmund, though most know me as ‘The Beast.’ I am part of King Theon’s kingsguard. I’ve fought alongside many great men, such as Harmond Hornwill and Steffon Cale, but none have met up to the expertise of King Theon.” The name rang in Alara’s ears, Harmond.
“Harmond? The same Harmond whose head I found rotting in a bag?” The Beast grunted.
“Fucking Bolton’s.” Alara had no argument there, though she did not wish to say anything while they were still on Bolton soil.
-
Many Stark soldiers were packing away their tents or treating the wounded. In front of Alara stood two of Theon’s guards, who were guarding the entrance. Alara and The Beast patiently waited outside the pavilion as the sun fell behind the clouds and the rain began to fall on their heads and shoulders. After what felt like a lifetime, but was likely a few minutes, Steffon Cale exited the tent. His expression was stern, lacking any positive emotion. He nodded to Alara and quickly hurried off, Alara felt that she would need to talk to Steffon in due time as well. The Beast beckoned for Alara to enter the tent, to which she entered alone.
The first thing Alara noticed was the strong smell of incense in the pavilion, then she noticed the destruction of the place.
“Your grace, what has happened?” She asked, somewhat shocked by the state of his majesties expensive furniture.
“A man mourns for his daughter and brother, it is understandable that a few things may be broken along the way. Though that is besides the point, I wish to speak to you of more important matters. If you would like to take a seat…” Theon awkwardly looked around, realising that all of his chairs were broken.
Alara laughed and sat herself on the muddy ground, relaxing her legs from the stress they had been enduring for the past few days. It had not been the first time she had found herself sitting in the mud, and she was sure it would not be her last. She looked up to Theon, who seemed mildly satisfied.
“Please, your grace, will you not join me?” She asked, somewhat jokingly. The man shrugged and sat himself down, resting his back against his destroyed strategy table. After a moment of complete relaxation, Theon began to speak.
“Your efforts in the battle have been noted, and further still your reputation has increased with the death of Argos Sevenstar. I am currently in the process of forming the Third Infantry Battalion, a battalion that I will need to have to fight in the west.” Theon stood himself up, starting to pace around the pavilion. “Harrag Hoare and his Ironborn have begun to raid our lands after noticing that we are distracted by the Andal invaders. They have claimed Bear Island and began to burn swathes of the Wolfswood. I need the Third Infantry Battalion to hold off these pirates until I can ensure that the Andals will not disturb the North again. Only issue with the battalion is, I need a general to lead them. There a number of candidates that could suit this role, you and Steffon Cale are among the top two. I understand that you are merely a sellsword and that this would be a large burden to place on you, so I am happy if you wish to join me when we take the fight to Andalos. Though I need to know now so I can set the battalion in motion, what do you want?”
[Take lead of the Third Infantry Battalion - Go west] [Join Theon in the war against the Andal’s - Go east]
[Take lead of the Third Infantry Battalion - Go west] Steffon will not be able to handle that responsibility in his current state, and that Battalion need to have leader, so clear for me.
Perhaps, but do keep in mind she is a 22 yr old sellsword with little war strategical experience, the kind of experience Steffon does have. The only reason Theon really offered Alara the role is because she is one of the few people he can actually trust to get the job done, like Steffon. I personally know what I would choose, but yeah. Steffon's stability isn't all that stable at current, and could lead to issues, though so could an inexperienced girl with little interest in it. Just something for y'all to ponder about, it's a big-ish choice.
[Join Theon in the war against the Andal’s - Go east]
I have a bad feeling for the Ironborn and I really don't want Alara to fight against them. I mean, neither option will be safe for her, but the Ironborn, especially the Hoare's, are not the kind of people I want her to fight against. So,hopefully I'm not going to regret this, but I think going to war against the Andals is by far the safer option for her.
[Join Theon in the war against the Andal’s - Go east] I guess this suits better for her.
[Join Theon in the war against the Andal’s - Go east]
[Join Theon in the war against the Andal’s - Go east]
[Join Theon in the war against the Andal’s - Go east]
I realised I never closed this vote! Well my mistake! Vote closed! Torv and Rose will run to the fire.