Wylla
It was nearing midday, and the rising sun had reached its peak in the cloudless sky. Wylla stared out the council windows at the be… moreautiful weather, feeling a little miserable that she was trapped in a room to discuss politics and strategies. However, it was her duty nonetheless, and she took pride and strength in her position.
Wylla turned her gaze to the other members of the table. There were six in total, if she included herself. Wylla sat at the head of the table, naturally belonging to the Lord of Faircastle, however as her husband was absent more often than not, Wylla had seized near all power on Fair Isle. She respected her husband, but did not hold high hopes for him, she did however have high ambitions for her eldest and only son.
Ryman Farman sat at the other end of the table, a bored expression on his face. He rested his cheek against the palm of his hand, letting his arm take the weight of his head. In his other hand… [view original content]
Right, well it would appear this vote has closed with an easy decision. Wylla will ask for their aid.
I have the next part ready, and I apologise for the wait. I am back at school, so there's likely going to be more waits of this time due to workloads picking up, but I'll try and get a couple out weekly. Anyway, the next part goes to the last of the Manderly PoV's, and the first to be introduced: Wyatt Manderly.
The last we saw Wyatt was in his first part, and he was talking with those who requested his audience. One of those was Syvvek of Skagos, who stood as a representative for the 'Lord of Pebbles,' and demanded that the Manderly's submit to Skagos' soon-to-be rule. Another was Lord Karlack of Merman's Cove, a small township on Obsidian Isle. He informed Wyatt of the devastating loss of his son due to the hands of Togarion Bar Emmon, and the sinking of some Eastern Trade vessels which were on route for Duskendale, their allies. Karlack also made mention that the Darklyn's were running their trade route dry, demanding too much and offering too little. Wyatt was left with a few decisions to make, and you guys ultimately chose for Wyatt to have half of the Eastern Military Fleet patrol the waters of Blackwater Bay to prevent further attacks of merchant vessels. Also, you decided to arrange a meeting with Togarion Bar Emmon, rather than the Darklyn's. This part picks up where it left off.
Wylla
It was nearing midday, and the rising sun had reached its peak in the cloudless sky. Wylla stared out the council windows at the be… moreautiful weather, feeling a little miserable that she was trapped in a room to discuss politics and strategies. However, it was her duty nonetheless, and she took pride and strength in her position.
Wylla turned her gaze to the other members of the table. There were six in total, if she included herself. Wylla sat at the head of the table, naturally belonging to the Lord of Faircastle, however as her husband was absent more often than not, Wylla had seized near all power on Fair Isle. She respected her husband, but did not hold high hopes for him, she did however have high ambitions for her eldest and only son.
Ryman Farman sat at the other end of the table, a bored expression on his face. He rested his cheek against the palm of his hand, letting his arm take the weight of his head. In his other hand… [view original content]
All eyes stared at Wyatt with a longing anticipation, awaiting his decision. He stood before Lord Karlack, a pleading look in his old wet blue eyes. Wyatt had come to his decision. “Lord Karlack, I will lend you half of the Eastern Military Fleet. Captain Samson Sisters will watch over the Blackwater, and will escort our merchant vessels safely to Duskendale.” Wyatt announced, and a saddened but thankful smile building on his old lips. Wyatt nodded to him, turning his gaze back to the guards. The young steward, Colt Hightower, stood with them.
“Colt.” Wyatt called to the boy, to which he hurryingly walked to him. “Yes, my Lord?” He replied, awkwardly rubbing his hands. “Go to Captain Longthorpe’s quarters and inform her that we will set sail for Massey’s Hook.” He ordered, and the boy nodded quickly, before turning and hastily leaving the room. Wyatt turned his eyes to the captain of the guard. “Clear the hall.” He muttered, and the captain passed the order on to the rest of his men.
The room emptied in a matter of minutes, and soon the hall was silent, with only the sound of shallow breathing from the guards. Wyatt took a seat at the steps that ascended to his chair, while the captain of the guard approached him with a dutiful look in his eyes.
“The hall is cleared, my Lord.” He reported, were it not already so blatantly obvious. Wyatt nodded in confirmation. “What would you have done with the guard?” He asked, and Wyatt sighed, shaking his head. “Go attend other duties. Send one to seek out my wife, I wish to speak with her.” The captain nodded, before passing the orders.
Soon the hall was completely empty, and Wyatt bathed in silence for a while. Thoughts roamed around his head, and he admittedly was still affected from his hangover. Thinking was difficult when the aching thumps in his head were beating faster than the rate of his heart, but he still managed to endure.
It was short lived, however, as time seemingly flew at a phenomenal rate, and before he knew it his wife was entering the hall. Wyatt raised his gaze to her beautiful figure, not a day went passed where Wyatt deemed himself a fortunate man to be married to such a beautiful woman. He had met her in his travels through the distant Freehold, and fell in love with the beautiful Vera Velaryon at neat first sight. Securing a marriage was no easy feat, and it consisted of a lot of persistence and assurance, but in the end Wyatt prevailed.
Vera’s beauty was renowned in all of Westeros, and many claimed she was the most beautiful woman in the east. She had long white-silver curly hair, which fell past her tanned shoulders. He alluring violet eyes peered passed these silver and white veils, looking directly at her husband with a passionate gaze.
Wyatt admired her short silken dress, a glimmering silver. Around her waist she wore dark green sash with golden embroidery of a seahorse and trident. Wyatt had to smirk at her attire, Vera was hardly known for her modesty, as her dresses were somewhat revealing. She had a large cleavage, and revealed a lot of leg with her skirt, but her rationale to it was that she liked to feel the breeze on her skin.
Wyatt stood from the steps, looking up at his wife with elated eyes. “Sweet wife.” He greeted, and she smirked back at him. “Husband.” She responded with a nonchalant tone. Wyatt raised an eyebrow to her disinterest, before he was met with perfect embracement. His head rested by her breasts, and he could not help but chuckle.
“You awoke early.” He noted in a poor attempt to distract himself. Vera shook her head, a beautiful smile on her lips. “You slept in.” She corrected him, and Wyatt narrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head. “Me? Never.” Vera gently laughed and rolled her eyes.
“You wanted me?” She finally asked, gazing at him with lustful eyes. Her tone was amorous and seducing, and Wyatt nodded in sobriety. “I am setting sail for Sharp Point by midday.” He revealed, and Vera raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised and curious.
“You only inform me now? She responded with a mildly spiteful tone, but Wyatt shook his head. “I only learnt now. Apparently Togarion Bar Emmon is sinking our ships, and Lord Karlack lost his son on one the sunken vessels.” He informed, and Vera’s expression saddened in empathy. “I shall go pack my things then.” She concluded, turning back to the door. Wyatt caught her hand before she could go, catching her attention with it.
“You’re not coming.” Wyatt regretfully added, and Vera furrowed her eyebrows. “Why not?” It was clear she was not approving of Wyatt’s decision. Wyatt frowned, releasing her hand from his grip. “I do not trust this Andal, I think it would be best if you remain here. Take care of the children, and yourself.” Wyatt pleaded, placing a hand on the minor swell on her belly. Vera frowned, placing her warm hands on his.
“Since when did we ever negotiate with those we trust?” She persisted, but Wyatt’s pleading eyes ended the attempt, and she finally lowered her gaze in defeat. Wyatt took her hands, begging for her attention, to which she sorely gave to him. “I need you here. Especially if your cousin arrives in my absence, Merling Stone cannot be empty of our presence.” Vera nodded, freeing her hands from his.
“I will go tell the children, and we will meet you at the harbour.” She concluded, turning and making her way for the doors, before she stopped herself. “Though you will not leave until I have my needs met.” She added, winking at him in a side glance. Wyatt smirked, hurrying after her.
-
The sun sat at its highest in the sky, which was near cloudless on this day. Wyatt stood on the stone slab pier, a number of trading vessels tied alongside the arms that branched off each side. However the most recognisable ship belonged to Captain Laura Longthorpe. The Mermaid’s Rage was a formidable vessel, with mounted ballista turrets and small catapults. Iron tipped pikes were not too far away, as were used by the crew in naval warfare.
Captain Laura stood at the end of the pier, overseeing the crew of the Mermaid’s Rage, who quickly heaved crates of ammunition on-board. She stood with a parchment list and bronze stylus, slowly ticking off the list as weaponry and projectiles entered and exited the ship. Wyatt made his way to her, and it was not long until her sea green eyes spotted him.
She nodded to him, folding the list and placing it in a breast pocket. She approached him with a stern posture. “My Lord.” She greeted, and Wyatt nodded in return. “Are the ships nearly prepped?” Wyatt questioned, and Laura nodded, her long brown hair falling in front of her eyes. “Just my baby left to go, then we’ll be ready to sail.” She informed him, pulling back her hair and tying it into a ponytail.
Wyatt moved his gaze to the six vessels anchored in the bay, all flew the Manderly flag from their masts. Wyatt nodded, turning his gaze back to the starting of the pier. He saw his wife and two sons slowly approaching, though his sons broke into a sprint when they saw their father.
Wyatt chuckled, outstretching his arms in warm welcome, and his sons nearly bowling him over. Wyatt tightly embraced the both of them, until his wife was closing in. Wyatt released the two boys, who looked at him with keen eyes. In normal circumstances, a father would likely kneel down before his boys, but for Wyatt his sons were nearing his height at their young and pristine age. So Wyatt stood.
“Take care of your mother, and be good representatives of House Manderly when Lord Varys arrives.” He ordered them, putting his hands through their silver hair which they inherited from their mother. Vera arrived with a new dress, being ocean blue this time, but of similar design to the previous one. She smiled at him, placing her hands around the shoulders of the boys.
“Come home safe.” She commanded him, and Wyatt nodded cockily. “Of course.” He smirked, before she took him by the scruff of his shirt and kissed him. “Come back to me.” She whispered, and Wyatt nodded seriously now. “I will.” He promised, and she left his side mildly satisfied. Laura Longthorpe cleared her throat awkwardly, grabbing Wyatt’s attention.
“The rest of the work can be done off harbour. We are ready to disembark when you are.” She informed, and Wyatt nodded. Vera’s violet eyes glared at Laura, looking her up and down. “Could you look any more like a man?” Vera provoked, and Laura smirked, turning her gaze to the Valyrian. A witty remark was at the tip of her tongue, but she held herself back when she acknowledged Wyatt’s children in proximity.
“Last chance for a rescue.” Laura muttered under her breath, loud enough for Wyatt to hear, which made him chuckle. Vera scowled at her. “Thank you, Laura. Let us make haste.” Wyatt decided, giving his final farewells to his sons and wife. Laura turned and boarded the Mermaid’s Rage.
Wyatt followed shortly after, climbing the wooden ramp with caution. “Short Merman!” The raspy voice from Syvvek of Skagos caught Wyatt off guard, and nearly tripped him into the water between the pier and ship. Recovering from his stumble, Wyatt turned to meet the black eyes of the Skagosi, and his wild companions.
“Syvvek.” Wyatt greeted, though not in the warmest of tones. The Skagg grinned, turning his attention to his companions dressed in furs. “These are my blood brothers: Isyger, Rauval, Varadol and Steirne.” He announced, and Wyatt nodded to the four men, before turning his gaze back to Syvvek.
“A pleasure.” Wyatt faked a smile, before turning back and climbing onto the vessel. Syvvek followed after him, before being stopped by two of Laura’s crewmembers. It was clear that the Skagossan did not approve of this interruption. Laura joined Wyatt’s side, glaring at the brutes on the pier.
“Have you considered our offer?” Syvvek persisted, and Wyatt let out a heavy sigh. “Still in the process, it’s a difficult decision.” Wyatt lied, turning to seek his quarters. Syvvek continued to persist however.
“We’d like to join you in your… Negotiations.” Syvvek informed him, a bloodthirsty grin building up on his face. Wyatt turned his gaze back to the Skagossan’s ‘blood brothers,’ who had unsheathed their weapons of bronze. They were heavily outnumbered by the harbour guard, along with Laura’s crew. Yet Wyatt knew that these men weren’t likely going to back down easily. However he feared that bringing the Skagosi along could interrupt his negotiations with the Bar Emmon’s, and be a danger for the crew.
This was a choice that got me thinking. My first impulse was to take them, because they might be useful. Then I thought it might be better to deny them, since they might fuck up the chance of a peaceful negotiation. Then I wanted to take them, if only because these Skagosi give me Vikings vibes and they all seem like super interesting characters. After that, I changed my mind again, because their bloodlust could be a danger to the crew. However, I ultimately took them exactly because of that, the danger they might pose to those around them. Just think about it, if Wyatt leaves them, they are pissed off and not satisfied in their violence. Who knows, if they are crafty enough they could find a way to punish his family for that. I think it is better to keep them close, to make sure they won't stay anywhere near those who can't protect themselves. And, of course, they are interesting characters, which is no small argument in its own. Argh, this is one of the few times I had such an argument with myself about the choice without one of my characters even remotely being involved in it and I love it!
Wyatt
All eyes stared at Wyatt with a longing anticipation, awaiting his decision. He stood before Lord Karlack, a pleading look in his o… moreld wet blue eyes. Wyatt had come to his decision. “Lord Karlack, I will lend you half of the Eastern Military Fleet. Captain Samson Sisters will watch over the Blackwater, and will escort our merchant vessels safely to Duskendale.” Wyatt announced, and a saddened but thankful smile building on his old lips. Wyatt nodded to him, turning his gaze back to the guards. The young steward, Colt Hightower, stood with them.
“Colt.” Wyatt called to the boy, to which he hurryingly walked to him. “Yes, my Lord?” He replied, awkwardly rubbing his hands. “Go to Captain Longthorpe’s quarters and inform her that we will set sail for Massey’s Hook.” He ordered, and the boy nodded quickly, before turning and hastily leaving the room. Wyatt turned his eyes to the captain of the guard. “Clear the hall.” He muttered, and t… [view original content]
Well, I don't even know if I can break apart your comment and answer it in sections. I can only say this comment really amused me, and I'm thoroughly enjoying seeing you struggle to make up your mind here It delights me to see that you're enjoying your self-argument however, I must be doing something right with the choices in this part
[Accept Syvvek]
This was a choice that got me thinking. My first impulse was to take them, because they might be useful. Then I thought i… moret might be better to deny them, since they might fuck up the chance of a peaceful negotiation. Then I wanted to take them, if only because these Skagosi give me Vikings vibes and they all seem like super interesting characters. After that, I changed my mind again, because their bloodlust could be a danger to the crew. However, I ultimately took them exactly because of that, the danger they might pose to those around them. Just think about it, if Wyatt leaves them, they are pissed off and not satisfied in their violence. Who knows, if they are crafty enough they could find a way to punish his family for that. I think it is better to keep them close, to make sure they won't stay anywhere near those who can't protect themselves. And, of course, they are interesting characters, which is no small argument in i… [view original content]
Wyatt
All eyes stared at Wyatt with a longing anticipation, awaiting his decision. He stood before Lord Karlack, a pleading look in his o… moreld wet blue eyes. Wyatt had come to his decision. “Lord Karlack, I will lend you half of the Eastern Military Fleet. Captain Samson Sisters will watch over the Blackwater, and will escort our merchant vessels safely to Duskendale.” Wyatt announced, and a saddened but thankful smile building on his old lips. Wyatt nodded to him, turning his gaze back to the guards. The young steward, Colt Hightower, stood with them.
“Colt.” Wyatt called to the boy, to which he hurryingly walked to him. “Yes, my Lord?” He replied, awkwardly rubbing his hands. “Go to Captain Longthorpe’s quarters and inform her that we will set sail for Massey’s Hook.” He ordered, and the boy nodded quickly, before turning and hastily leaving the room. Wyatt turned his eyes to the captain of the guard. “Clear the hall.” He muttered, and t… [view original content]
Wyatt
All eyes stared at Wyatt with a longing anticipation, awaiting his decision. He stood before Lord Karlack, a pleading look in his o… moreld wet blue eyes. Wyatt had come to his decision. “Lord Karlack, I will lend you half of the Eastern Military Fleet. Captain Samson Sisters will watch over the Blackwater, and will escort our merchant vessels safely to Duskendale.” Wyatt announced, and a saddened but thankful smile building on his old lips. Wyatt nodded to him, turning his gaze back to the guards. The young steward, Colt Hightower, stood with them.
“Colt.” Wyatt called to the boy, to which he hurryingly walked to him. “Yes, my Lord?” He replied, awkwardly rubbing his hands. “Go to Captain Longthorpe’s quarters and inform her that we will set sail for Massey’s Hook.” He ordered, and the boy nodded quickly, before turning and hastily leaving the room. Wyatt turned his eyes to the captain of the guard. “Clear the hall.” He muttered, and t… [view original content]
Wyatt
All eyes stared at Wyatt with a longing anticipation, awaiting his decision. He stood before Lord Karlack, a pleading look in his o… moreld wet blue eyes. Wyatt had come to his decision. “Lord Karlack, I will lend you half of the Eastern Military Fleet. Captain Samson Sisters will watch over the Blackwater, and will escort our merchant vessels safely to Duskendale.” Wyatt announced, and a saddened but thankful smile building on his old lips. Wyatt nodded to him, turning his gaze back to the guards. The young steward, Colt Hightower, stood with them.
“Colt.” Wyatt called to the boy, to which he hurryingly walked to him. “Yes, my Lord?” He replied, awkwardly rubbing his hands. “Go to Captain Longthorpe’s quarters and inform her that we will set sail for Massey’s Hook.” He ordered, and the boy nodded quickly, before turning and hastily leaving the room. Wyatt turned his eyes to the captain of the guard. “Clear the hall.” He muttered, and t… [view original content]
[Accept Syvvek]
This was a choice that got me thinking. My first impulse was to take them, because they might be useful. Then I thought i… moret might be better to deny them, since they might fuck up the chance of a peaceful negotiation. Then I wanted to take them, if only because these Skagosi give me Vikings vibes and they all seem like super interesting characters. After that, I changed my mind again, because their bloodlust could be a danger to the crew. However, I ultimately took them exactly because of that, the danger they might pose to those around them. Just think about it, if Wyatt leaves them, they are pissed off and not satisfied in their violence. Who knows, if they are crafty enough they could find a way to punish his family for that. I think it is better to keep them close, to make sure they won't stay anywhere near those who can't protect themselves. And, of course, they are interesting characters, which is no small argument in i… [view original content]
Right, well I won't just yet close the part as not everyone has voted, but I have got the new part ready. I was originally planning to make it a York part, but I couldn't hold my excitement back any longer, so I've written out the part to a new PoV. He is an Andal, and will be one of the PoV's to introduce Dorne in the not too distant future. So without saying much more, I'll let you guys read the part
The sky was a blood red with the descent of the sun in the west, reflecting on the water of the Narrow Sea which lapped across the private shoreline of the Golden Spear’s estate. Their land stretched for miles to the south and east. North of them was the Bay of Pearls, belonging to the craven Gemmed King of the Pearled City. To the west was the Narrow Sea, and beyond that, Westeros.
Morgan stared at the lapping waves, surrounded my men and women who had come to mourn the loss of his father. The Golden Spear. A legendary figure of Andalos, with a story that was considered a myth by many, but spoken highly of by the smallfolk. Those who personally knew the Golden Spear knew that his reputation highly outweighed him, alas, they came to his funeral.
The seared flesh of the burned man lay high amongst the unlit pyre, aimlessly staring into the red sky. Morgan stood amongst the crowd, staring at the septon with impatience. He stood amongst men who held respect for a lie, and he held too much respect for the old man to say otherwise. The septon began his eulogy.
“We’re gathered here to honour the life of a legendary man.” He began, and a soft murmur spread amongst the crowd. “The Golden Spear.” The septon announced with a proud tone. “The man who challenged the dragon, and slew the rider. The man that proved that the Valyrian’s are not immortals, that we need not fear these men on beasts. The Golden Spear inspired the Great Army we follow today, led by King Qarlon. The King of all Andal’s!” He claimed, and received a cheer from the crowd. Morgan remained silent. Far from the truth, he flippantly thought, shifting his gaze to the septon.
“May the Seven guide him, and bring his soul salvation. Seven blessings.” He mumbled, and the crowd murmured in repeat. On signal, the flame was passed to the septon, and place under the pyre. The wooden structure came alight within seconds, flames dancing to the night. Morgan could not help but think of the fire worshipers he had met in the east. The crowd slowly began to disband, going their own ways. Morgan took his chance now to pay his respects.
Reaching into his coat, Morgan’s hand secured around the leather straps. He pulled from his coat and into the light. A thin leather banding, and a golden seven-pointed star as a pendant. A necklace his father had given him before Morgan left on a pilgrimage with many other young folk years ago. How that became a change of events, he thought, memories flooding back to him. He sighed, taking a final glance at the pendant, before he tossed it into the fire. A rush of emotions instantly hit him. Remorse, relief, perplexity. He frowned.
“Master Martell?” The familiar voice of Septon Militar called. Morgan turned his gaze back to the old man who had given the eulogy, a warm look in his old brown eyes. “It is you!” He realised almost immediately, and instantly pulled Morgan into embracement. Morgan unwillingly accepted it, awkwardly. Militar quickly separated from him.
“It’s been so long, Morgan. I feared the worst.” Militar admitted, and Morgan sighed, awkwardly rubbing his hands. “It took me a while until I found my true calling.” Morgan reluctantly said, and the septon nodded. “What of the others?” Morgan had to bite his tongue.
“Still searching.” He lied, but the septon was gullible enough to accept it. The pilgrimage through the Valryian colonies all those years ago had transpired well, until they reached the city of Volantis. There they came across a certain slaver which one of Morgan’s conglomerates had drunkenly pissed off. It got him killed, which was perhaps the best outcome out of the rest, as the others were put into slavery.
“I see. Well, shall we return to the homestead?” He suggested, and Morgan nodded sternly. “So tell me, how did your pilgrimage unfold?” The septon asked with a genuine curiosity. Morgan frowned, there was no way to avoid it.
“Well, after travelling through the Valyrian colonies, we moved on to the Freehold itself” Morgan spoke half the truth, they were forced to the Freehold. “The Valyrian Freehold? Did you see the dragon that burned your father? Did you see the Ash Wraith?” The old man asked in astonishment, and Morgan nodded.
“Caranthir.” He corrected, and the septon raised an eyebrow. “I spoke to the dragon’s rider, and we found some common ground.” Morgan revealed, and this part was true, yet it was a lot more complicated than it seemed. It consisted of a lot of apologies, and slowly earned trust.
“I continued on after that to the Kingdom of Sarnor, and the Empire of Ghis. I’d have gone further, but news travelled far that the Golden Spear had fallen into his death bed.” The septon nodded. “Very honourable of you, Morgan.” He complimented, and Morgan shrugged it off. “It’s duty.” Morgan simply put it, to which Militar scowled in response. The estate had reached their view now.
“Your father was a hero to our people.” The septon protested in defence, but Morgan cared little for his father’s fanatics. “I hear you follow Qarlon now. How long until you ‘conquer’ Andalos?” Morgan mocked, and received a castigating glare from the old man.
“You should honour your father, take up arms with us. King Noriphos is an unfit ruler for Andalos.” Militar deplored, but Morgan shook his head. “Septon, I engaged on a pilgrimage to find my calling. I did. There are distant lands which we Andal’s have yet to see, and I will explore them.” Morgan vowed, receiving a reprimanding look from the old man. He sighed. “You’re sure?” He asked in an attempt to change his mind, but Morgan nodded sternly. “Very well.” He muttered in disappointed.
They reached the doors of the estate just before the sun had completely set in the west. Morgan eyed the oaken doors with pensive eyes. The golden spear was on the centre of the doors. Septon Militar sighed, clasping his hands together. “I’m afraid this is where we go our separate ways. It was a pleasure to see you again.” He farewelled, turning from Morgan, “Wait!” Morgan called, and the septon momentarily halted. “You will be returning back to Qarlon?” Morgan presumed, and the septon nodded.
“I will.” He confirmed, and Morgan smirked. “So you will be stopping by the Pearled City.” Morgan realised, and the septon nodded once again. “Unfortunately.” Morgan grinned. “Would you deliver a message for me?” The septon raised an eyebrow.
“To whom?” He asked, and Morgan shrugged. “To anyone that will listen. Tell them that the son of the Golden Spear is looking for ships to sail to Westeros. Tell them that any warlord interested will be guaranteed land where no other Andal has settled.” The septon furrowed his eyebrows, but did not bother to question it.
“Anything else?” He grumbled, and Morgan smirked. “Yes. Give King Qarlon my regards.” He asked, and the septon smiled before nodding. “Safe travels, Morgan.” He bidded, and Morgan nodded to him. “Seven guide you.”
Ah, a Martell PoV. It should be great to get a taste of Dorne in the story. That has always been one of my favourite locations in the world of Ice and Fire, so I look forward for your interpretation of it very, very much. And this was a nice introduction for Morgan, setting up a lot of things I look forward for. I liked the general feel of this PoV a lot and I could see him potentially becoming one of my favourites. To be fair though, there are so many I like that it should be hard to pin down exact favourites in most cases.
I also see a certain dragon mentioned, which I have not expected, but greatly appreciated. I wonder whom it was Morgan's father slew though. Got an idea there, just like how I got an idea whom Morgan himself has spoken to. Ah, this makes me so excited for future things to come
Morgan
The sky was a blood red with the descent of the sun in the west, reflecting on the water of the Narrow Sea which lapped across the… more private shoreline of the Golden Spear’s estate. Their land stretched for miles to the south and east. North of them was the Bay of Pearls, belonging to the craven Gemmed King of the Pearled City. To the west was the Narrow Sea, and beyond that, Westeros.
Morgan stared at the lapping waves, surrounded my men and women who had come to mourn the loss of his father. The Golden Spear. A legendary figure of Andalos, with a story that was considered a myth by many, but spoken highly of by the smallfolk. Those who personally knew the Golden Spear knew that his reputation highly outweighed him, alas, they came to his funeral.
The seared flesh of the burned man lay high amongst the unlit pyre, aimlessly staring into the red sky. Morgan stood amongst the crowd, staring at the septon with impatience. He stood … [view original content]
Ah, a Martell PoV. It should be great to get a taste of Dorne in the story. That has always been one of my favourite locations in the world of Ice and Fire, so I look forward for your interpretation of it very, very much.
I truly can't exaggerate how excited I am to get this new story arc started. With the characters received for this location, and the plans I've got set there, it's arguably going to be one of my favourite story locations. Closely tied with the North
And this was a nice introduction for Morgan, setting up a lot of things I look forward for. I liked the general feel of this PoV a lot and I could see him potentially becoming one of my favourites. To be fair though, there are so many I like that it should be hard to pin down exact favourites in most cases.
I struggled a little with how I wanted to introduce him, and ended up scrapping a lot of ideas. As seen, I ended up working with the inspiration for the Martell's coat of arms He is going to be a great PoV, and I'm biased but I'd say he's going to be in my top five
I also see a certain dragon mentioned, which I have not expected, but greatly appreciated. I wonder whom it was Morgan's father slew though. Got an idea there, just like how I got an idea whom Morgan himself has spoken to. Ah, this makes me so excited for future things to come
Indeed, it had been an idea for a while which I wanted to check up with you on, but after further consideration I deemed that it would fit, and went for it. Builds up hype for the sequel somewhere in the future I'd love to read your speculations
Ah, a Martell PoV. It should be great to get a taste of Dorne in the story. That has always been one of my favourite locations in the world … moreof Ice and Fire, so I look forward for your interpretation of it very, very much. And this was a nice introduction for Morgan, setting up a lot of things I look forward for. I liked the general feel of this PoV a lot and I could see him potentially becoming one of my favourites. To be fair though, there are so many I like that it should be hard to pin down exact favourites in most cases.
I also see a certain dragon mentioned, which I have not expected, but greatly appreciated. I wonder whom it was Morgan's father slew though. Got an idea there, just like how I got an idea whom Morgan himself has spoken to. Ah, this makes me so excited for future things to come
Morgan
The sky was a blood red with the descent of the sun in the west, reflecting on the water of the Narrow Sea which lapped across the… more private shoreline of the Golden Spear’s estate. Their land stretched for miles to the south and east. North of them was the Bay of Pearls, belonging to the craven Gemmed King of the Pearled City. To the west was the Narrow Sea, and beyond that, Westeros.
Morgan stared at the lapping waves, surrounded my men and women who had come to mourn the loss of his father. The Golden Spear. A legendary figure of Andalos, with a story that was considered a myth by many, but spoken highly of by the smallfolk. Those who personally knew the Golden Spear knew that his reputation highly outweighed him, alas, they came to his funeral.
The seared flesh of the burned man lay high amongst the unlit pyre, aimlessly staring into the red sky. Morgan stood amongst the crowd, staring at the septon with impatience. He stood … [view original content]
Ah, when you said we'd get a Martell PoV, I didn't even consider that we'll actually get to see the birth of the House! It's awesome though, and I'm already hyped for Morgan's storyline. Of course, there are other things in Dorne that I'm also hyped for Anyway, if for some reason I'll ever write about the history of House Martell in NW, I'll definitely go with the Invasion canon
Morgan
The sky was a blood red with the descent of the sun in the west, reflecting on the water of the Narrow Sea which lapped across the… more private shoreline of the Golden Spear’s estate. Their land stretched for miles to the south and east. North of them was the Bay of Pearls, belonging to the craven Gemmed King of the Pearled City. To the west was the Narrow Sea, and beyond that, Westeros.
Morgan stared at the lapping waves, surrounded my men and women who had come to mourn the loss of his father. The Golden Spear. A legendary figure of Andalos, with a story that was considered a myth by many, but spoken highly of by the smallfolk. Those who personally knew the Golden Spear knew that his reputation highly outweighed him, alas, they came to his funeral.
The seared flesh of the burned man lay high amongst the unlit pyre, aimlessly staring into the red sky. Morgan stood amongst the crowd, staring at the septon with impatience. He stood … [view original content]
Well the others have said plenty about it already but I will say this is indeed an epic intro! It seems we will get to see the birth of House Martell in Dorne which is no doubt going to be awesome and I am very excited to see Morgan's role in the story unfold. I am also very much excited to see the role Dorne in general plays in the Invasion and now I know I need to make the time to add my Dornish contributions to the story!
Morgan
The sky was a blood red with the descent of the sun in the west, reflecting on the water of the Narrow Sea which lapped across the… more private shoreline of the Golden Spear’s estate. Their land stretched for miles to the south and east. North of them was the Bay of Pearls, belonging to the craven Gemmed King of the Pearled City. To the west was the Narrow Sea, and beyond that, Westeros.
Morgan stared at the lapping waves, surrounded my men and women who had come to mourn the loss of his father. The Golden Spear. A legendary figure of Andalos, with a story that was considered a myth by many, but spoken highly of by the smallfolk. Those who personally knew the Golden Spear knew that his reputation highly outweighed him, alas, they came to his funeral.
The seared flesh of the burned man lay high amongst the unlit pyre, aimlessly staring into the red sky. Morgan stood amongst the crowd, staring at the septon with impatience. He stood … [view original content]
I truly can't exaggerate how excited I am to get this new story arc started. With the characters received for this location, and the plans I've got set there, it's arguably going to be one of my favourite story locations. Closely tied with the North
Well, only knowing some tiny scraps and hints of your plans, I of course don't know if it will be one of my favourite locations. That said, I am not even sure which one could qualify as my favourite location. The North is definitely a strong contender, so if Dorne is anything as great as that storyline, I know we're in for something amazing
I struggled a little with how I wanted to introduce him, and ended up scrapping a lot of ideas. As seen, I ended up working with the inspiration for the Martell's coat of arms He is going to be a great PoV, and I'm biased but I'd say he's going to be in my top five
Top 5? Well, yeah, I think that could be in the realms of possible. Of course, there is some pretty heavy bias for me to overcome, but Morgan has the potential to become a part of my five favourites for sure, I wouldn't put it past him. He definitely has the presence for it. Let's see where he stands at the end of the chapter.
Indeed, it had been an idea for a while which I wanted to check up with you on, but after further consideration I deemed that it would fit, and went for it. Builds up hype for the sequel somewhere in the future I'd love to read your speculations
Alrighty, speculation then. I'd say the one he has spoken to has been Maegor most likely. I am not sure if he has slain the rider of Caranthir, or simply one particular dragonrider, the narration hasn't been too precise there, but if it was Caranthir's rider, then it would make sense for him to be a relative of Maegor, which would also explain just why this talk between them has been so hard.
Ah, a Martell PoV. It should be great to get a taste of Dorne in the story. That has always been one of my favourite locations in the world … moreof Ice and Fire, so I look forward for your interpretation of it very, very much.
I truly can't exaggerate how excited I am to get this new story arc started. With the characters received for this location, and the plans I've got set there, it's arguably going to be one of my favourite story locations. Closely tied with the North
And this was a nice introduction for Morgan, setting up a lot of things I look forward for. I liked the general feel of this PoV a lot and I could see him potentially becoming one of my favourites. To be fair though, there are so many I like that it should be hard to pin down exact favourites in most cases.
I struggled a little with how I wanted to introduce him, and ended up scrapping a lot of ideas. As seen, I ended up working with the inspiration for the… [view original content]
Right, well I'll bring this vote to a close. Wyatt will accept Syvvek aboard the Mermaid's Rage. This will certainly have its pro's and con's, which we'll see once they arrive at Sharp Point.
I have the next part ready, and it goes to Kira Tyrner, the Andal commoner and seamstress The last time we saw Kira, a noise was heard in her apartment, and she went to investigate with a weapon in hand. It was then that she was attacked by a man who would nearly rape her, yet she would put an end to that with a dagger to his chest. Far from over however, Kira had to make a nifty escape out the window of the two story building, and injured her leg on the way down. Making a run for it, Kira weaved through the alleys and corridors until bumping into a rich man and his guards. You lot chose to ask for his help, and the new part picks up where it last left off
Wyatt
All eyes stared at Wyatt with a longing anticipation, awaiting his decision. He stood before Lord Karlack, a pleading look in his o… moreld wet blue eyes. Wyatt had come to his decision. “Lord Karlack, I will lend you half of the Eastern Military Fleet. Captain Samson Sisters will watch over the Blackwater, and will escort our merchant vessels safely to Duskendale.” Wyatt announced, and a saddened but thankful smile building on his old lips. Wyatt nodded to him, turning his gaze back to the guards. The young steward, Colt Hightower, stood with them.
“Colt.” Wyatt called to the boy, to which he hurryingly walked to him. “Yes, my Lord?” He replied, awkwardly rubbing his hands. “Go to Captain Longthorpe’s quarters and inform her that we will set sail for Massey’s Hook.” He ordered, and the boy nodded quickly, before turning and hastily leaving the room. Wyatt turned his eyes to the captain of the guard. “Clear the hall.” He muttered, and t… [view original content]
Her leg throbbed with a severity which surged up her body. Kira gritted her teeth, feeling herself becoming weaker as each moment passed by. She stared into the light blue eyes of the large man before her, clutching onto the muscled arms of one of his guards. She limped towards him, instantly losing her balance and crumbling into his open arms.
“Please.” She barely uttered. “Help me.” She begged, and received the confused and sympathetic gaze of a rich man, a look she had seen many times before. A look which shouted that there was nothing he could do for her, despite both of them knowing it was far from the truth. It was clear that there was a question at his lips, but he was interrupted before he could speak them.
The alley seemed to transform from the dark and quiet walkway to a lit and loud cage. Kira clutched onto the large man’s arm, placing herself behind his comforting large size. An ideological shield, but not one that would protect her. What rich Andal would protect someone like her? With fearful eyes, Kira stared at the brutes that now crowded the alleyway. There were at least a half a dozen of them, with more approaching.
“Gentlemen.” The fat Andal greeted, Kira cowering behind him. He received ire glares and distaste. “Out of the way, pig.” One ordered, a large man wielding a carving knife. The large Andal smiled, clasping his hands together.
“Now, there’s no need for that. We’re only on a calm stroll.” He assured, but received the saliva of another by their feet. “That whore belongs to the Father’s Sons! Last chance.” He warned, and the man’s smile died down. His guards readjusting the grips on their blades.
“Whoever she is, it appears she has no desire to be with you men anymore. Go bother someone else, before someone gets hurt.” The rich man pleaded, and received dominating glares with menacing looks for Kira. She gripped the fat man’s shirt tighter.
“Fuck you.” The one with the carving knife muttered, confidently stepping forward first, and unknowingly to a quick and merciful death. The guard slit is throat with ease, and was back in form for his next rival, a scrawny man wielded with an axe.
His companion took on two of the brutes with his shortsword, parrying the blows of a machete, and dodging the slow but powerful blows of a mace. He was quick to open the belly of the machete wielder, before disarming the other brute of his mace with a well-placed punch in the gut.
The first guard had now lodged his blade throat the scrawny man’s neck. All he could do was gurgle the blood which flow out the fresh wound and his mouth. Kira felt herself losing grip of the plum round man, tumbling back with a painful thud.
No energy to scream, no strength to fight the pain. Blood rushed to her head, and darkness quickly faded her vision. Everything blackened with a constant surging thud, beginning from her injured leg and concluding in her skull. Then it went numb, and cold.
-
The pain put her to a restless sleep, and retrieved her from it. Her aching leg was secreting sweat into the slowly saturating mattress. Kira tried to lift her head, but each attempt just left her feeling perplexed and dizzy. Where am I? She wondered, with the best of her abilities, staring at the tiled roof above her. Her eyes fixed on a crack in the painted works which made a vessel sailing across the ocean, but there was a separation in the sail which revealed a grey unnatural mix.
Kira focused on the crack, trying to feel her way through her body. Her body was coated in sweat, despite a thin silken blanket only covering her lower half. She could feel her wet fingers, and wiggled her left set of toes with ease. Yet when it came to her right leg, a source of pain jolted through her body with such pain it made her cringe. Any movement made her groan in agony, which called only for attention.
A woman was suddenly hovering over her, but Kira could not make out her face, she was a blur. Yet there was something calming about her presence, something relieving. Kira clenched the silk sheets as another wave of pain jolted up her leg. She gritted her teeth, trying to conceal a scream.
“Drink this.” The calm woman’s voice begged, a small cup appearing before her lips. Kira could not see the contents, and was reluctant. “Milk of the poppy.” She assured, pressing the cup to Kira’s lips. “Drink.” She ordered, and hesitant, Kira obeyed. Numbness returned, spreading over her body like an infestation. She was tired, her head filled with clouds. Kira unwillingly shut her eyes, falling back into a haunted sleep.
Images of the past appeared in her whitened vision, flashing past her as if she was moving at incredibly unrealistic speeds. When she was brought to a sudden halt, a land settled out in front of her, flat with crop and soil.
Kira looked around, as if recognising where she was. The farm? Her father worked hard in the fields, ploughing the land with his four sons. Darren was among them. Kira shook her head, confused. She turned her attention back to the house, where her mother and three sisters sewed and cooked. “Mother?” She whispered, her tone near inaudible, and in certain disbelief.
All of a sudden, her mother’s eyes turned to her, accompanied by her three sisters. Kira felt the prickling of someone behind her, and her instincts found her brothers and father to be watching her as well. She shook her head, confused and torn. She flickered between them all, and slowly they began to decay. They became decrepit and weak, sinking into the ground. Kira screamed, trying to run to them, but her feet would not budge.
They were all gone. All but one. Darren stood in the field, a shovel in his hands. He leaned against it, staring into a hole he had dug. Kira found herself moving closer, until the contents were revealed. Her family stacked on top of each other, flies and dirt desecrating their remains. Kira swatted at them, tears flowing down her cheeks with an ire passion.
The wind caught them adrift, and soon she found herself by the water’s edge, a ship floating out to sea. Darren watched her from the aft of the vessel, donned in light armour and a longsword. Kira stood waist deep in the sea, waves lapping at her chest. In her hands were a note and quill.
The waves soon grew stronger, until they bowled her down. She stared up into the sky, a body of water between her and air. She watched the birds and fish, the ships which fought and sunk down to her depth. The blood, the bodies. Bronze, steel, fire. Kira lay among them, lifeless and cold, pain in her leg.
-
She opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling portrait, the cracked sail. Is it real? She asked herself, lifting her hands to her face, waiting for them to turn into a nightmare. They didn’t. Her leg reassured her she was awake.
Kira pulled herself up, instantly feeling a lot cooler. She sat in a silk bed, in a room she did not recognise. It was large, larger than her home. She looked around, taking in her surroundings. A lantern lit the otherwise dark room, and her shadow was cast onto the wall like a giant. Those walls were decorated in golden paints, but otherwise white in appearance. A few glass windows showed the darkness of the night sky. She wanted to see it.
Straightening herself, she pulled back the sheets. It revealed a sweaty mess of her wet leg, tightly bandaged. Kira tried to move apply movement, but had difficulty with the bandaging. She lifted her leg off the bed, preparing herself to stand. Guided by her strong leg, she stood herself up. So far so good.
Her legs felt stiff, unused and old. How long have I been here? She wondered, taking her first step. The weight of her body shifted from her strong leg to her weak, and she instantly regretted it. Kira tumbled to the floor, a loud thud against the shined floorboards. She groaned, bashing her fist against the floor.
Determined to reach the window, she pulled herself forward an inch. She would crawl there if she couldn’t walk, and so she did. Pulling herself up with the aid of the window sill, Kira got a view of outside the room. The night sky was dark and covered in cloud, and Kira found it difficult to see. Though one thing was certain, the complex she was in was big. Very big.
As she tried to identify the shapes, a sound of footsteps emerged from outside the wooden doors of the room. Kira shifted her gaze in panic, looking around for a safe spot to hide. Her options were minimal, and by the time she had come to a decision the doors swung open. Kira steading herself against the wall, preparing for what was to come.
In the doorway stood a plump man, wearing gown of silk, as dark and blue as the night sky. He clasped his hands, looking at Kira with his light blue eyes. “You’re awake.” He observed, and Kira stared at him hesitantly. His expression instantly changed to something more embarrassed.
“Forgive me, where are my manners? I am Lorrhen, and you?” He asked with an amiable tone. Kira sceptically eyed him over, before reluctantly answering. “Kira.” She muttered, and Lorrhen gave her a warm smile.
“It is a pleasure, Kira.” He said with kind and honeyed words, and Kira nodded, turning her gaze back out the window. “Where am I?” She asked, fingering the wooden windowsill. Lorrhen took a step inside, and receive Kira’s glare, to which he came to a halt.
“My mansion. We’re in the capital, the Pearled City.” He informed her, and she furrowed her eyebrows. The Pearled City? The capital was for nobility, knights of the crown and the king’s honoured guests. “I shouldn’t be here.” Kira acknowledged, turning away from the window. Lorrhen frowned.
“You can’t return to your home. The Father’s Sons know where you live, you wouldn’t be safe there.” He protested, and Kira raised an eyebrow. “What do you care for my safety?” She spited, and he sighed. “No one should be victim to those foul men.” Lorrhen simply mumbled, but Kira was unconvinced.
“You know them then?” She questioned, and he nodded. “Unfortunately.” He sighed, crossing his arms. “They’ve been interrupting with my business, scaring off trade and stealing my profit. I came to Southpoint to investigate a business that came to a close because of them. That’s how I ran into you.” He explained, and Kira nodded curiously.
“You’re a merchant then?” She asked, and a warm smile reached his lips. “I am.” He admitted proudly. Kira shook her head, confused. “So why bring me here, how long have I been here?” She spoke her thoughts, and Lorrhen took it surprisingly well.
“You’ve been out of it for a few days. You had sprained your leg pretty bad, and I knew none of the healers in Southpoint would be of much help to you. I own a small hospital myself, and have reach to some of the best medicine in Essos.” Kira furrowed her eyebrows, crossing her arms.
“Why help me?” She asked again, and Lorrhen took another step closer to her. “It was the right thing to do.” He wisely said, but unconvincingly. “Perhaps there will be profit in it.” He added, a touch of greed in his tone. Kira raised her eyebrows. “I have no coin to pay you.” She fretted, and Lorrhen immediately shook his head. “There will be no need for that, my lady. Though I could use your help.” He suggested, and Kira furrowed her eyebrows.
“What use could a seamstress be to a merchant that lives in the Pearled City?” She asked ignorantly, and worried for what the answer might be. I will not sell him my body. She vowed. She would never. “Not a seamstress, but a handmaiden.” Kira raised an eyebrow. “Handmaiden? To who?” Lorrhen gave her a warm and reassuring smile.
“Princess Celia.” He revealed with nonchalant tone. Princess? Kira thought, perplexed by the idea of it. Lorrhen nodded, as if to answer her thoughts. “I want you to serve her, and become close with her. To learn of Noriphos’ ambitions.” He instructed. “You want me to spy on the king?” She questioned, intimidated by the thought of it. Lorrhen nodded, clasping his hands together.
“Of course, you could also deny my offer. However I cannot assure your safety from those mongrels that stormed your home, and are no doubt looking for you now. If you accept, all you would have to do is serve the Princess diligently, and report what you have learned to me.” Kira found herself awkwardly rubbing her hands, moving her attention out the window.
The streets were silent, but if Lorrhen was right, the Father’s Sons would be out there. What do they want with me? There were so many questions, and so few answers. Maybe she would be safer with Lorrhen, but even then there were unanswered questions.
First of all, Lorrhen has proven himself to be a trustworthy person. He didn't have to save her the way he did. Doing this favor for him would be a wise decision. Serving Princess Celia practically guarantees her safety from the thugs that tried to kill her. Not serving her will just put her back in the dangerous situation she was in before. Plus, I just like the idea of her becoming the handmaiden to Princess Celia. This will be a chance to show off the Royal Family of Andalos.
Kira
Her leg throbbed with a severity which surged up her body. Kira gritted her teeth, feeling herself becoming weaker as each moment pa… moressed by. She stared into the light blue eyes of the large man before her, clutching onto the muscled arms of one of his guards. She limped towards him, instantly losing her balance and crumbling into his open arms.
“Please.” She barely uttered. “Help me.” She begged, and received the confused and sympathetic gaze of a rich man, a look she had seen many times before. A look which shouted that there was nothing he could do for her, despite both of them knowing it was far from the truth. It was clear that there was a question at his lips, but he was interrupted before he could speak them.
The alley seemed to transform from the dark and quiet walkway to a lit and loud cage. Kira clutched onto the large man’s arm, placing herself behind his comforting large size. An ideological shield, but not one that w… [view original content]
Oh man, when you told me there might be a Kira part coming up in the next parts, I didn't think you'd mean the very next part I like this, I like this a lot.
[Accept Lorrhen’s offer]
So, first of all, I think we made the right choice with trusting Lorrhen over these other guys. The thing is, no matter what might come out of this for Kira in the future, Lorrhen not only helped her, he also treated her leg. Considering how seriously wounded she was, something I completely underestimated, not getting the good treatment he provided her with could have ended up crippling her, by preventing her leg from healing properly. Who knows what these other guys would have done if she would have tried to escape from them. If they wouldn't have outright raped and murdered her, it is at least unlikely they would have treated her wounds.
Then, I must say I don't really trust Lorrhen. His son obviously has an interest in capturing Kira, if only so that he has some genuine leverage in his deal with Darren. Then there is the fact that for all his seeming kindness, he is a super shady guy and I am half-expcting him to be actually really cold and cruel behind this affable and kind exterior. At the very least, he is using Kira. However, at the same time, I believe that he is genuine with his offer of protection as long as she proves to be useful for her. He seems like a smart and pragmatic man, so I doubt he'd screw her over for no reason and as long as she can be of use to him, she can profit from this, by being kept save from these Father's Sons gang. Speaking of, I wonder what they wanted to do to her, or more specifically, why they wanted her in particular. Is there something else going on that makes Kira super important somehow? Lorrhen might have just taken a chance when he saved her, but even then, his appearance there is quite the coincidence, given how far above he is to the people who usually live in Kira's area.
Still, trust or not, I believe that working with Lorrhen is the better option for now. Some protection is better than none at all. He helped her before. These thugs know where she lives and they found her before, so she wouldn't be save without his help. Of course, for this help she has to do something that could be even mor dangerous, but for now, she lacks the alternatives and is in no position to refuse his offer. I must also say, I am glad that Lorrhen is overall less of a bastard than I thought, at least he seems to be less of a bastard. Of course, he is clearly a stone cold manipulator, but he doesn't seem outright malicious or evil, more like a pragmatist who uses every chance he can get, but not like the kind of guy who does bad things without reason. There is even the possibility that he, unlike some of the other guys Kira could have encountered, is able of genuinely kind behaviour, maybe even without having that much of an advantage of it. Helping Kira and then giving her the choice of working for him is the best example of this. This fact that he gave her the choice makes me willing to accept his offer and I think, while I might regret this, I will probably regret it less than not accepting it.
Kira
Her leg throbbed with a severity which surged up her body. Kira gritted her teeth, feeling herself becoming weaker as each moment pa… moressed by. She stared into the light blue eyes of the large man before her, clutching onto the muscled arms of one of his guards. She limped towards him, instantly losing her balance and crumbling into his open arms.
“Please.” She barely uttered. “Help me.” She begged, and received the confused and sympathetic gaze of a rich man, a look she had seen many times before. A look which shouted that there was nothing he could do for her, despite both of them knowing it was far from the truth. It was clear that there was a question at his lips, but he was interrupted before he could speak them.
The alley seemed to transform from the dark and quiet walkway to a lit and loud cage. Kira clutched onto the large man’s arm, placing herself behind his comforting large size. An ideological shield, but not one that w… [view original content]
Oh man, when you told me there might be a Kira part coming up in the next parts, I didn't think you'd mean the very next part I like this, … moreI like this a lot.
[Accept Lorrhen’s offer]
So, first of all, I think we made the right choice with trusting Lorrhen over these other guys. The thing is, no matter what might come out of this for Kira in the future, Lorrhen not only helped her, he also treated her leg. Considering how seriously wounded she was, something I completely underestimated, not getting the good treatment he provided her with could have ended up crippling her, by preventing her leg from healing properly. Who knows what these other guys would have done if she would have tried to escape from them. If they wouldn't have outright raped and murdered her, it is at least unlikely they would have treated her wounds.
Then, I must say I don't really trust Lorrhen. His son obviously has an interest in capturing Kira, if only so that… [view original content]
Oh man, when you told me there might be a Kira part coming up in the next parts, I didn't think you'd mean the very next part I like this, I like this a lot.
Well, perhaps a change of plans. I couldn't help myself
So, first of all, I think we made the right choice with trusting Lorrhen over these other guys. The thing is, no matter what might come out of this for Kira in the future, Lorrhen not only helped her, he also treated her leg. Considering how seriously wounded she was, something I completely underestimated, not getting the good treatment he provided her with could have ended up crippling her, by preventing her leg from healing properly. Who knows what these other guys would have done if she would have tried to escape from them. If they wouldn't have outright raped and murdered her, it is at least unlikely they would have treated her wounds.
Indeed, choosing to ask Lorrhen for help certainly had benefits, and definitely helped Kira on a physical health side of things. Ending up in the hands of the Father's Sons could have been rather catastrophic for Kira, as you are indeed right, their medical capabilities are nowhere near Lorrhen's.
Then, I must say I don't really trust Lorrhen. His son obviously has an interest in capturing Kira, if only so that he has some genuine leverage in his deal with Darren. Then there is the fact that for all his seeming kindness, he is a super shady guy and I am half-expcting him to be actually really cold and cruel behind this affable and kind exterior. At the very least, he is using Kira. However, at the same time, I believe that he is genuine with his offer of protection as long as she proves to be useful for her. He seems like a smart and pragmatic man, so I doubt he'd screw her over for no reason and as long as she can be of use to him, she can profit from this, by being kept save from these Father's Sons gang. Speaking of, I wonder what they wanted to do to her, or more specifically, why they wanted her in particular. Is there something else going on that makes Kira super important somehow? Lorrhen might have just taken a chance when he saved her, but even then, his appearance there is quite the coincidence, given how far above he is to the people who usually live in Kira's area.
I can certainly see your rationale behind this, and I accept that. Jorrhen is a complete arse to say the very least, and we'll see more of Jorrhen's schemes soon enough, maybe in Darren's next part. When it comes to your thoughts, I'm afraid I cannot answer them just yet, as they're still to be revealed in the story. However all will be clear soon enough.
Still, trust or not, I believe that working with Lorrhen is the better option for now. Some protection is better than none at all. He helped her before. These thugs know where she lives and they found her before, so she wouldn't be save without his help. Of course, for this help she has to do something that could be even mor dangerous, but for now, she lacks the alternatives and is in no position to refuse his offer. I must also say, I am glad that Lorrhen is overall less of a bastard than I thought, at least he seems to be less of a bastard. Of course, he is clearly a stone cold manipulator, but he doesn't seem outright malicious or evil, more like a pragmatist who uses every chance he can get, but not like the kind of guy who does bad things without reason. There is even the possibility that he, unlike some of the other guys Kira could have encountered, is able of genuinely kind behaviour, maybe even without having that much of an advantage of it. Helping Kira and then giving her the choice of working for him is the best example of this. This fact that he gave her the choice makes me willing to accept his offer and I think, while I might regret this, I will probably regret it less than not accepting it.
Working with Lorrhen certainly has it's pro's and con's, and having her accept his terms definitely gives me a way to show of more of Noriphos and his family (as we've seen very little of him). However as you say, this is very dangerous work. Spying on the king is no easy feat, and it doesn't exactly help that Kira sticks out amongst most people (I may have dropped a hint to you a while back about her hair? ). There is a lot to Lorrhen that we do not know so far, and you'll find that he has quite a tragic past to him.
Oh man, when you told me there might be a Kira part coming up in the next parts, I didn't think you'd mean the very next part I like this, … moreI like this a lot.
[Accept Lorrhen’s offer]
So, first of all, I think we made the right choice with trusting Lorrhen over these other guys. The thing is, no matter what might come out of this for Kira in the future, Lorrhen not only helped her, he also treated her leg. Considering how seriously wounded she was, something I completely underestimated, not getting the good treatment he provided her with could have ended up crippling her, by preventing her leg from healing properly. Who knows what these other guys would have done if she would have tried to escape from them. If they wouldn't have outright raped and murdered her, it is at least unlikely they would have treated her wounds.
Then, I must say I don't really trust Lorrhen. His son obviously has an interest in capturing Kira, if only so that… [view original content]
[Accept Lorrhen’s offer] Well, this would give us a PoV at Noriphos' court, which certainly intrigues me. Also, Lorrhen is a very interesting character. He seems like a nice person, but at the same time there is a bit of shady vibe to him.
Kira
Her leg throbbed with a severity which surged up her body. Kira gritted her teeth, feeling herself becoming weaker as each moment pa… moressed by. She stared into the light blue eyes of the large man before her, clutching onto the muscled arms of one of his guards. She limped towards him, instantly losing her balance and crumbling into his open arms.
“Please.” She barely uttered. “Help me.” She begged, and received the confused and sympathetic gaze of a rich man, a look she had seen many times before. A look which shouted that there was nothing he could do for her, despite both of them knowing it was far from the truth. It was clear that there was a question at his lips, but he was interrupted before he could speak them.
The alley seemed to transform from the dark and quiet walkway to a lit and loud cage. Kira clutched onto the large man’s arm, placing herself behind his comforting large size. An ideological shield, but not one that w… [view original content]
Kira
Her leg throbbed with a severity which surged up her body. Kira gritted her teeth, feeling herself becoming weaker as each moment pa… moressed by. She stared into the light blue eyes of the large man before her, clutching onto the muscled arms of one of his guards. She limped towards him, instantly losing her balance and crumbling into his open arms.
“Please.” She barely uttered. “Help me.” She begged, and received the confused and sympathetic gaze of a rich man, a look she had seen many times before. A look which shouted that there was nothing he could do for her, despite both of them knowing it was far from the truth. It was clear that there was a question at his lips, but he was interrupted before he could speak them.
The alley seemed to transform from the dark and quiet walkway to a lit and loud cage. Kira clutched onto the large man’s arm, placing herself behind his comforting large size. An ideological shield, but not one that w… [view original content]
Well, it looks like this vote has come to a close. Kira will accept Lorrhen's offer. A wise decision, and probably the best decision of the two. This will certainly add onto Kira's story in a much more interesting way, as to if she had chosen to deny and leave Lorrhen. A bumpy road lies ahead of Kira now.
Now it was initially planned that I would write a Darren part after Kira's part, and I did some rearranging of some parts just to have a natural flow from one location to another after introducing Morgan. However I've found some inspiration to write the part for a new PoV, introducing Dorne into the story. The PoV's name is Jaremy Sand, and he is the bastard son of Franklyn Brownhill. So being of Jaremy's nature, for this example I'm going to say f*ck it. We'll be jumping to Dorne real quick, before going over to the Vale So, I hope you enjoy his first part
Kira
Her leg throbbed with a severity which surged up her body. Kira gritted her teeth, feeling herself becoming weaker as each moment pa… moressed by. She stared into the light blue eyes of the large man before her, clutching onto the muscled arms of one of his guards. She limped towards him, instantly losing her balance and crumbling into his open arms.
“Please.” She barely uttered. “Help me.” She begged, and received the confused and sympathetic gaze of a rich man, a look she had seen many times before. A look which shouted that there was nothing he could do for her, despite both of them knowing it was far from the truth. It was clear that there was a question at his lips, but he was interrupted before he could speak them.
The alley seemed to transform from the dark and quiet walkway to a lit and loud cage. Kira clutched onto the large man’s arm, placing herself behind his comforting large size. An ideological shield, but not one that w… [view original content]
The warm winds of the sandy coast flurried through his hair, warming his tanned skin. Jaremy stood at the bow of the Valyrian merchant vessel, Sea Dragon. His arms crossed, staring at the desert shores ahead of them. Dorne. The land of desert, a land that was once his home, and now he had returned.
The mouth of the Greenblood was southwest of them, they had to be heading for Old Wreck, the seat of House Hull. Old Wreck was one of the many houses on the Greenblood. The Hull’s owned all the land north of the Greenblood inlet, bordering with the Toland kingdom in the north, and the Brownhill’s in the west.
Jaremy sighed, scratching his arm, a numb tingle occurred. The Brownhill’s were his family, with a strong emphasis on were. He was an exile, and now he returned. What would they think of that? He didn’t care, his time banished was over. He came back only for one reason. Elise. The love of his life, a life that was snatched away from him. Jaremy tightened the grip he had around his arms.
The sound of someone clearing their throat caught Jaremy’s attention. He turned his gaze to the short man behind him, another passenger on the Sea Dragon. Jaremy recognised the Tyroshi tradesmen immediately, his slicked grey hair and orange dyed beard. Taznak Marone. The Tyroshi had boarded during their stop in Lys, pleading for passage back to Tyrosh. He had to come to Dorne first.
“We’re finally here.” He observed, his thick accent only just understandable. Jaremy shifted his gaze back to the coast in silence. “Not much of a talker, are you?” Taznak noted, joining him at the prow of the vessel. “Very well.” He mumbled, defeated. The two stared at the small township that was slowly growing into their view.
“This is home for you then?” The Tyroshi asked, and Jaremy sighed. “Almost.” He muttered, causing Taznak to grin. “I sense there is some unhealed wounds in this land for you.” The Tyroshi confidently presumed, and Jaremy gave him a side glance that could only be described as murderous. A natural look for Jaremy now. It caused the Tyroshi to gulp.
“Keep your ‘senses’ to yourself, old man.” Jaremy warned, and Taznak awkwardly nodded, lifting his hand and pulling at his collar. He was sweating in his clothing, he was certainly not dressed for Dornish climate. A grey tunic with black velvet decorations, trousers as black as charcoal. It was clear that this Tyroshi liked to express his wealth through his attire, something that Jaremy cared little for.
Jaremy stuck to simpler clothing. Sleeveless light leather armour, which revealed his tanned muscular arms, and simple leather pants. By his waist were two sheathed weapons, a Valyrian short sword and an ivory dagger, each having its own tale. Jaremy lowered his hands to his side, both resting on the hilts of his two weapons.
“So, how did a slave manage to obtain a Valyrian steel sword?” Taznak asked, sticking his nose into other’s business as he was known to do. He referred to the mark branded onto Jaremy’s neck: a cross with a circle above it. Jaremy unsheathed the blade from his belt, revealing it to the hot Dornish sun. He then pointed it towards the Tyroshi, forcing him to take a step back, his eyes widening.
“It was given to me, by a man called Manyx Taranyon. It was his, and now it’s mine.” Jaremy bluntly stated, admiring the beauty of the Valyrian forged steel, while Taznak’s brow was saturating in sweat. “And I’m no slave.” He informed, and the Tyroshi nodded quickly. Jaremy lowered the blade, sheathing it back to his belt. Taznak blew out a heavy breath of relief. Jaremy turned his gaze back to the coast, the town had grown since he last looked. “Now, fuck off.” The Tyroshi nodded, quickly descending the steps and returning back into the hull. Jaremy took hold of the balustrades, glaring at the town of Old Wreck.
-
Crates of merchandise were heaved off the Sea Dragon when Jaremy disembarked onto the wooden dock. The wharf was busy, but even still, Jaremy could feel gazes prickling at his skin. People watching him, people avoiding him. Jaremy walked along the wooden arm of the docks, staring at the flapping banner that hung from the town walls. An orange cone shell on a sandy field. House Shell.
Jaremy entered the small city gates, passing the guards with Shell banners. Something wasn’t right. Where are the Hull’s? Jaremy walked aimlessly through the cluttered trading bay. Stalls and merchant carts positioned everywhere, tradesmen and citizens bargaining and arguing over prices. Guards patrolling the streets, flags flying from buildings. None of them belonging to the Hull’s.
Jaremy turned his gaze to one of the merchant carts, an old man packing produce into the back of it. Jaremy approached the man as he was turning to grab another box of goods. “Hey.” He called, trying to grab the man’s attention. He was ignored. Jaremy’s expression turned ire. “Hey!” He tried again, and got nothing once again.
Jaremy shook his head, clenching his fists. He walked up to the merchant, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and pinning him against his cart. Fear haunted the man’s pale brown eyes, an expression which trembled before Jaremy. “Do I have your attention?” Jaremy interrogated, and the man quickly shook his head, pointing to his lips and then his ears. Jaremy found himself losing his patience.
“Hey!” Another voice called out, and Jaremy turned to meet it. He found himself staring into the eyes of a woman, smaller than him, as many women were. Her sea green eyes stared out from behind her sandy blonde hair, which was long and curly but loosely tight back in a ponytail. Her skin tone was light, and the sun had nipped at her vulnerable skin where it was exposed. “He’s deaf.” She explained, pushing Jaremy away from the old man. Jaremy wasn’t finished.
“I want answers.” He seethed bitterly, and the woman shrugged off his resentment. “Don’t we all? You’ll have bugger all luck getting it from him.” She asserted, and Jaremy scowled. “Maybe you can help me.” Jaremy relunctantly suggested, and she took one glance back at the red marks on the old man’s shoulders before scoffing. “Not likely.” She turned and left them. Jaremy sighed, walking after her.
“Wait!” He called, hesitating a moment. “Please.” She stopped a moment, turning her gaze back to him. “What?” She asked, a strong sense of animosity in her tone. Jaremy sighed. “I’m trying to get to Brownhill, and it’s been a while.” She frowned, resting against a cart.
“What’s your name?” She asked, and Jaremy raised an eyebrow, before dubiously answering. “Jaremy Sand. I’m King Franklyn Brownhill’s bastard.” She nodded, crossing her arms. “And what makes you think I know where this… ‘Brownhill’ is?” Jaremy shrugged. “You knew that man was deaf.” He lamely suggested, and she rolled her eyes, climbing onto the driver’s seat of the cart.
“Forget it.” She muttered, taking hold of the reins and spurring her mule forward. The cart slowly moved forward with it, leaving Jaremy behind. The cart moved ten metres or so before coming to a stop, there was a brief moment of silence, despite the chatter all around them. “Get on.” She called impatiently, and Jaremy smirked, quickly chasing after the cart as it started to move again.
-
“So then your father exiled you?” She asked, briefly turning her gaze to him before returning it to the road. Jaremy nodded, running his hand through his beard. “Where did you go?” She asked, and Jaremy waited a moment before answering, taking another drink out of the mead bottle.
“The Reach, the Stormland’s, the Rock. I worked as a sellsword, until I was convinced to join the Valyrian army. It was then that everything went to shit, and we were wrecked on the beaches of Sothoryos, stranded. What few survivors remained ended up dying of illness, leaving me and a fat cook, Golaro.” Jaremy recalled, finishing the rest of the bottle. Looking forward of the road, Jaremy spotted Brownhill, a nervous feeling arose in his gut.
“What? What is it?” The merchant asked, continually turning her gaze back and forth from him and the road. Jaremy shook his head. “Nothing.” He muttered, remaining quiet. She frowned, letting out a long drawn sigh.
“Well if it isn’t clear enough from my skin tone, I’m not from around here either.” She admitted, more to herself than Jaremy. “I was born in the North, to a poor family. I worked hard with my brother to keep us alive, and now I’m here.” She awkwardly concluded, and Jaremy raised an eyebrow. “There’s more to it than that.” He knew, and she nodded. “As is there to your story.” She stated, a smirk on her lips. “Besides, we’re basically here.” She acknowledged, as they climbed the final small hill.
On the other side was Brownton, a small town which surrounded the castle of Brownhill. It was a simple castle, to what Jaremy could remember anyway. Four towers, four walls, a courtyard and a keep. All built at the base of a brown hill, which inspired their name.
“How do you think your father will react to your return?” The merchant asked, and Jaremy shrugged. He genuinely didn’t know, and partly didn’t care. Franklyn had chosen to exile him over hanging him, which Queen Eyla had strongly disapproved of her husband’s decision. Perhaps the old hag was dead, it would be about time that his father was free of that manipulative woman.
“I guess I’ll find out.” Jaremy stated bluntly, and the girl nodded. “Where will you go?” Jaremy asked, and she sighed, looking at her hands for a moment. “I’ll continue on to Greenlake before I try my luck at Yronwood. Then it’s the rest of the kingdoms I suppose, and if no luck then I’ll continue into the Reach.” Jaremy nodded, placing the empty bottle of mead into the back of the cart. They were well into Brownton now. The merchant brought the cart to a halt.
“I won’t forget this.” Jaremy thanked, referring to the lift she gave him. She smirked, rolling her eyes. “With the amount of mead I made you drink just to get you to talk, I’m sceptical.” Jaremy chuckled, pulling himself out of the seat and climbing down the cart. “You never told me your name.” Jaremy realised, and the girl smiled.
“It’s Klare. Klare Varne.” Jaremy gave her an awkward smile. “Thanks, Klare.” She nodded to him. “Best of luck with your family.” She wished, bidding him a farewell after. Jaremy wobbled as he watched the cart he rode on double. He rubbed his head, looking up into the sky. The sun was starting to fall.
Brownton was not a large town, but definitely a hub for traders needing a place to stay. Jaremy was drunk, for better or worse. He contemplated whether he should climb to the castle yet. Fuck what they think. He wanted to see Elise badly, and the thought of waiting another night was tearing him in two.
[Continue to Brownhill] [Find somewhere to rest in Brownton]
Jaremy
The warm winds of the sandy coast flurried through his hair, warming his tanned skin. Jaremy stood at the bow of the Valyrian merc… morehant vessel, Sea Dragon. His arms crossed, staring at the desert shores ahead of them. Dorne. The land of desert, a land that was once his home, and now he had returned.
The mouth of the Greenblood was southwest of them, they had to be heading for Old Wreck, the seat of House Hull. Old Wreck was one of the many houses on the Greenblood. The Hull’s owned all the land north of the Greenblood inlet, bordering with the Toland kingdom in the north, and the Brownhill’s in the west.
Jaremy sighed, scratching his arm, a numb tingle occurred. The Brownhill’s were his family, with a strong emphasis on were. He was an exile, and now he returned. What would they think of that? He didn’t care, his time banished was over. He came back only for one reason. Elise. The love of his life, a life that was snatched away… [view original content]
Awesome! I'm so happy to see Jaremy already, and I feel like there is a great storyline ahead of him. I think you nailed Jaremy's personality and behavior in this part, good work!
[Continue to Brownhill] I'm fine with the other choice as well, but I feel like this would perhaps be more in-character for him
Jaremy
The warm winds of the sandy coast flurried through his hair, warming his tanned skin. Jaremy stood at the bow of the Valyrian merc… morehant vessel, Sea Dragon. His arms crossed, staring at the desert shores ahead of them. Dorne. The land of desert, a land that was once his home, and now he had returned.
The mouth of the Greenblood was southwest of them, they had to be heading for Old Wreck, the seat of House Hull. Old Wreck was one of the many houses on the Greenblood. The Hull’s owned all the land north of the Greenblood inlet, bordering with the Toland kingdom in the north, and the Brownhill’s in the west.
Jaremy sighed, scratching his arm, a numb tingle occurred. The Brownhill’s were his family, with a strong emphasis on were. He was an exile, and now he returned. What would they think of that? He didn’t care, his time banished was over. He came back only for one reason. Elise. The love of his life, a life that was snatched away… [view original content]
While I would probably prefer to pick the other choice, it seems like Jaremy wants to go ahead to Brownhill and his mind is basically made up. No need to deprive him I suppose
Jaremy
The warm winds of the sandy coast flurried through his hair, warming his tanned skin. Jaremy stood at the bow of the Valyrian merc… morehant vessel, Sea Dragon. His arms crossed, staring at the desert shores ahead of them. Dorne. The land of desert, a land that was once his home, and now he had returned.
The mouth of the Greenblood was southwest of them, they had to be heading for Old Wreck, the seat of House Hull. Old Wreck was one of the many houses on the Greenblood. The Hull’s owned all the land north of the Greenblood inlet, bordering with the Toland kingdom in the north, and the Brownhill’s in the west.
Jaremy sighed, scratching his arm, a numb tingle occurred. The Brownhill’s were his family, with a strong emphasis on were. He was an exile, and now he returned. What would they think of that? He didn’t care, his time banished was over. He came back only for one reason. Elise. The love of his life, a life that was snatched away… [view original content]
[Continue to Brownhill]
While I would probably prefer to pick the other choice, it seems like Jaremy wants to go ahead to Brownhill and his mind is basically made up. No need to deprive him I suppose
I think this will be the smart thing to do. Who knows how is family and Elise will react to a wild drunken Jaremy appearing (Pokemon reference). He needs to rest, so he can sober up and figure out the best way to approach them.
Jaremy
The warm winds of the sandy coast flurried through his hair, warming his tanned skin. Jaremy stood at the bow of the Valyrian merc… morehant vessel, Sea Dragon. His arms crossed, staring at the desert shores ahead of them. Dorne. The land of desert, a land that was once his home, and now he had returned.
The mouth of the Greenblood was southwest of them, they had to be heading for Old Wreck, the seat of House Hull. Old Wreck was one of the many houses on the Greenblood. The Hull’s owned all the land north of the Greenblood inlet, bordering with the Toland kingdom in the north, and the Brownhill’s in the west.
Jaremy sighed, scratching his arm, a numb tingle occurred. The Brownhill’s were his family, with a strong emphasis on were. He was an exile, and now he returned. What would they think of that? He didn’t care, his time banished was over. He came back only for one reason. Elise. The love of his life, a life that was snatched away… [view original content]
Another new and interesting PoV. Hell, Dorne came as a surprise to me, but it is growing on me so quickly that I am already sufficiently hyped for what's in store for them. And man, I haven't even submitted my contribution to that storyline, I should get to do that soon, after writing a couple of PM's first. Also gotta send one to you about some of the details of my plans. And I can't wait for future parts of this Dorne storyline, with such strong characters, it appears we're going to be in for a treat
[Find somewhere to rest in Brownton]
Ah, I was unsure what to choose here. I already really like Jaremy (to be absolutely honest, I liked his introduction even more than Morgan's, who already had a great scene) and want him to suceed at his next steps, so I am choosing this, as I think it will be better for him, even if I was tempted to pick the former option first, mostly because that would mostly make things pretty hilarious and I always approve of that. But ah, this one will be smarter and, most importantly, it prevents a vote tie. I am fine with both options though, so I have no problem with continuing to Brownhill immediately.
Jaremy
The warm winds of the sandy coast flurried through his hair, warming his tanned skin. Jaremy stood at the bow of the Valyrian merc… morehant vessel, Sea Dragon. His arms crossed, staring at the desert shores ahead of them. Dorne. The land of desert, a land that was once his home, and now he had returned.
The mouth of the Greenblood was southwest of them, they had to be heading for Old Wreck, the seat of House Hull. Old Wreck was one of the many houses on the Greenblood. The Hull’s owned all the land north of the Greenblood inlet, bordering with the Toland kingdom in the north, and the Brownhill’s in the west.
Jaremy sighed, scratching his arm, a numb tingle occurred. The Brownhill’s were his family, with a strong emphasis on were. He was an exile, and now he returned. What would they think of that? He didn’t care, his time banished was over. He came back only for one reason. Elise. The love of his life, a life that was snatched away… [view original content]
Vote closed! Jaremy will find somewhere to rest in Brownton. This isn't necessarily an important choice, but it will determine the behaviour that Jaremy will have when reuniting with his family and Elise. Anyway, we'll be seeing more of Jaremy soon, but for now, I have a Darren part for you!
Last time we saw Darren, he had struck some strife, where his household had been burnt down and he was left a note that told him to meet his perpetrators at a local tavern unarmed and without company, or risk the life of his sister. You guys chose to comply, and so Darren continued onto the tavern, where he was directed to a room and met by the infamous whoreson: Jorrhen (and his body guard Jegg). The two beat him unconscious with little reason as to why, other than the fact that Darren had humiliated them a few days prior. Anyway, this part takes place a few days later, when Darren awakes.
Jaremy
The warm winds of the sandy coast flurried through his hair, warming his tanned skin. Jaremy stood at the bow of the Valyrian merc… morehant vessel, Sea Dragon. His arms crossed, staring at the desert shores ahead of them. Dorne. The land of desert, a land that was once his home, and now he had returned.
The mouth of the Greenblood was southwest of them, they had to be heading for Old Wreck, the seat of House Hull. Old Wreck was one of the many houses on the Greenblood. The Hull’s owned all the land north of the Greenblood inlet, bordering with the Toland kingdom in the north, and the Brownhill’s in the west.
Jaremy sighed, scratching his arm, a numb tingle occurred. The Brownhill’s were his family, with a strong emphasis on were. He was an exile, and now he returned. What would they think of that? He didn’t care, his time banished was over. He came back only for one reason. Elise. The love of his life, a life that was snatched away… [view original content]
He awoke with a tender reoccurring thud in his head. Darren gripped the soft woollen blankets that covered him, stripping them off lazily. He opened his eyes cautiously, squinting as the light flooded into his vision, momentarily blinding him. He lifted his hand to shield the glare until his eyes adjusted.
He was in Heart’s Home, that much was clear. The natural light reflected off the glistening marble walls, darting around the room and revealing its contents. Darren was in one of the King’s guestrooms, a large suite consisting of everything a household required, only packed in to one room. Arguably, this room was large than half of the houses that the commoners lived in.
Darren pulled himself up, feeling weak and dizzy as he sat upright. His eyes travelled across the room, landing on a beautiful sight. Darren spotted his iron sword resting by his heavy shield, leaning against the marble wall. Beside that, a wooden armour stand clad with plated iron armour. His armour. Darren grinned, getting out of the large bed.
He instantly felt giddy as he stood, a darkness clouding his vision as his heart started to beat faster, blood rushing through his body. His legs grew weak, he grabbed onto the bedside table, stabilising himself before he would faint. He bent over, remaining that way until his head began to clear, however a nasty thumping continued to persist.
Darren made his way over to the armour, stumbling more than walking. His hand landed on the chest piece as he lost his balance, catching him from the fall. Darren let out a relieved breath, eying his gear that had been melting away in the fire of his home. The fire, the thought was so vague in his mind, and it was the only thing he seemed to recall before he suddenly awoke in Heart’s Home.He frowned, removing the helm from the armour stand. It was a battle helm, visored and forged in the design of a sugarloaf.
The door to the room swung open with little warning, and in walked two men. Marvion Corbray was one of them, his short, near-shaved, blonde hair made him easily recognisable. The other was a man that Darren had met only briefly, Warne Spyre, the Captain of the City Guard. The two looked somewhere between shocked and surprised when they saw Darren standing by his armour, his new helm in his hands.
“Ser Darren.” Marvion then announced, rather nonchalant in his tone. Warne nodded, and Dorne returned to gesture. “Marvion.” Darren greeted informally, causing the crowned prince to smirk. Warne’s eyes widened with such shock of Darren’s colloquialism to the heir of Heart’s Home. Marvion clasped his hands, stopping by the window at the far end of the room.
“We were worried about you, Tyrner. You had been AWOL for nearly a week. We found you unconscious outside some local tavern only a few days ago. Well, we didn’t.” Marvion informed him, staring intently out the window at nothing in particular. Captain Warne stood awkwardly by the door, hands by his side. Darren furrowed his eyebrows.
“I’ve been out for a few days?” He asked, scratching his head with confusion. Marvion turned his gaze back to him, and nodded. “Indeed.” He replied, his tone oddly investigative. “A woman brought you to the castle. You’ve been in that bed for the past two days.” Darren raised an eyebrow, a smirk touching his lips.
“A woman?” He further questioned, and Marvion rolled his eyes. “Father will introduce you to her later.” He assured him, leaving the window. “However, I have a few questions to ask.” Marvion added, and received a disapproving glare from Captain Warne.
“My Prince, perhaps now would not be the best time.” He tried to persuade, but Marvion simply shook his head. “I need to know.” He claimed with solemnity in his voice. He turned his gaze to Darren, beckoning him to a chair. “Would you take a seat, Darren?” Marvion offered, and Darren eyed him cautiously. He was the son of a friend, but he had to wonder why there was such animosity in his eyes. Darren reluctantly took a seat.
“What’s this all about, Marvion?” Darren inquired, and Marvion shook his head, letting out a sigh. “If it’s all the same to you, it would be easier if I be the one asking the questions.” He stated with a formality that was very uncharacteristic to him, making Darren raise an eyebrow. Hesitantly, he nodded.
“Darren, where were you on the night of your household’s destruction?” Marvion questioned, and Darren furrowed his eyebrows in thought. He was with Jaime in a tavern for a while, before he decided to return home. He told him. “And do you have any idea who burnt down your home?” Marvion asked, and Darren thought for a moment.
“There was a note, tucked away in my sword’s sheath.” Darren admitted, and Marvion’s curious eyes turned to Darren’s sword. He slowly walked to the weapon, picking it up and unsheathing it. He stared at himself in the blade’s reflection. “What were the contents of the letter?” He asked, a touch of spite with his words. Warne took a step forward, chagrin his eyes.
“That’s enough, Prince Marvion.” He commanded, before realising what little authority he had. Marvion took grip of the blade in his hand, turning his gaze to Warne. “Captain Spyre, if he is the traitor then I will be the one to find out.” Marvion pressed, and received a menacing glare from Warne. Darren shook his head, confused.
“A traitor?” Darren questioned, and Marvion sceptically eyed Darren over. Warne nodded. “Aye, a traitor amongst our ranks. The First Man prisoner was released from his captivity. Someone freed him.” Warne informed him, and Marvion gave the captain an ireful glare. Darren shook his head again, though this time in denial.
“I had nothing to do with it.” Darren honestly admitted, and Marvion narrowed his eyebrows. “Forgive me, Darren, but I am not yet convinced.” Marvion said, running his offhand over the dull edge of Darren’s blade. “Where were you after the burning after your household? What was in the note?” Marvion interrogated, and Darren shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows. He couldn’t remember. “Where were you?!” Marvion yelled, pointing the blade at Darren. Warne took another step forward in Darren’s defence, a hand now securing on the hilt of his sheathed longsword.
“Marvion!” Warne growled, joining Darren’s side. “This is affair is now under the jurisdiction of the City Guard. Darren will have his testimony before the King, not you.” Warne strictly apprised, receiving a deathly glare from Marvion, before he lowered his gaze entirely.
“If I’m right…” Marvion stared, and Warne shook his head. “Darren will stand his trial before the Seven, and the gods will deem his fate.” Warne declared, and Marvion was defeated. The captain turned his gaze to Darren.
“Would you follow me to the throne room, Ser Darren?” Darren shifted his glare from Warne to Marvion, before he frowned and nodded. He stood from his chair, accompanying the captain out of the room, leaving Marvion with his thoughts.
-
The Heart’s Home throne room was aloud with chatter and activity. The noblemen and handmaiden’s had all gathered to witness Darren’s testimony, his trial, his judgement. All seemed to be aware of his crime, all but Darren himself. Many had even claimed to see him be with Wyllam in the last few days, but alas, Darren had no recollection of it.
Darren stood in the middle of the throne room, his wrists shackled in iron chains. Around him were a crowd of guards, commoners and nobles, and before him were King’s council. King Qyle sat at the mid of the table of judgement, three men either side of him. On his left sat the lords Ruthermont, Donniger and Egen. On his right were the lords Lynderly, Lipps and Templeton.
“Let us begin.” Qyle announced, standing from his seat, a grim expression haunting his face. His eyes apologetic as he looked at Darren. He took a seat, and Lord Rogan Ruthermont rose, his solemn gaze staring beyond Darren.
“Ser Darren Tyrner, you have been called to trial for your mysterious absence, for the betrayal of the kingdom, and the murder of Lord Cyrus Egen’s son.” The lord calmly announced, and there was an uproar to follow in the crowd. Captain Warne, standing beside Darren dutifully, called for quiet. Slowly it arrived, and Rogan continued.
“How do you plead?” He asked, and Darren stood from his seat, looking among the many faces around him. His iron chains clinked and rattled as he stood. “Not guilty.” He stated, hearing the immediate defiance to his words. Silence was called for, and soon the voices quietened.
“Bring in the witnesses.” Lord Rogan ordered, taking a seat. There was a moment of silence before the doors swung open, and three men entered, accompanied by guards. One looked to be an off duty guard, another was tall and skinny, a gaunt face with large ears. His long black hair flowed freely, and there was something familiar about him, but Darren could not pick the name. Finally, he noticed his eyes had deceived him, as the armoured woman brought up the rear. Her blonde ponytail swaying side to side as she walked impatiently, yet her brown eyes showed a generosity. They all took their place before the council, Warne went up to join them.
“Gentlemen, my Lady. Do you all swear by the Seven that evidence you present will speak the truth and only the truth?” Warne publicized aloud. The three nodded. “I do.” They spoke in unison, and Warne presented a Seven-pointed star to each of them, and each kissed the star.
“May the first witness rise to the court.” Lord Roth Donniger called, and the off duty guard was the first to step forward. “State your name.” Roth ordered, and the nervous guard obeyed. “Kristin, m’lord.” He mumbled, barely audible to the crowd. Roth nodded.
“What do you wish to share, Kristin?” He asked, and the guard rubbed his hands awkwardly. “I’d like to give proof to the Ser’s guilt, m’lord.” He muttered, waiting a moment in silence before he spoke up. “I was standin’ guard duty on the night, m’lords and ladies.” He claimed, turning to the crowd. “As my shift came to an end, durin’ handover I saw his Ser’ship approach the cell as I was just leaving.” He stated, and Darren couldn’t help but scoff. “Bullshit.” Darren muttered, and received an ignorant glare from one of the guards closest to him. “Shut your mouth.”
“I passed over, and not long after, that savage filth from the cells was on top of me! He tried to kill me!” He cried, and received a gasp from the crowd. “I fought that filth with me own bare hands I did, but I couldn’t stop ‘im from escapin’ m’lords.” He persuaded them, before Lord Roth gave the next man a nod.
The skinny man stood before the court with clasped hands, a scheming look in his light blue eyes. Lord Roth repeated the question to him, and he let out a small smile. “I am Jorrhen.” He revealed to them, not that it meant anything to them. Darren squinted at the name, but he could not pick its origins.
“I saw Ser Darren after he set the First Man free. He came to me begging for help, likely because he knows how rich my father is.” He boasted, before continuing. “He revealed everything to me, and begged me to smuggle him out of the city. That’s when I had my guard knock him unconscious, and brought him to you, my Lord’s.” He announced with pride, a scheming grin spread across his lips.
“Lies.” The last witnessed hissed, stepping forward. “I’m not done yet!” Jorrhen screamed impatiently, but Roth lifted a hand to his whines. “Woman, step forward. Who are you?” He asked, and the armoured woman did as she was commanded.
“Tamarra of the Vale, my Lord. I was the one that brought Ser Darren back to Heart’s Home.” She revealed, and Darren’s attention focused onto her. She was beautiful, young, yet had the stern look of a warrior imprinted on her face. Darren chuckled quietly to himself, receiving a menacing glare from the guard beside him. “Proceed.” Roth ordered, and Tamarra nodded.
“I don’t know all that much. I’m a sellsword, and I was only stopped at a tavern here when I first saw Ser Darren. He disappeared upstairs under advisement by the bartender. I waited another half hour to see him brought back by a bulk of a man, who threw him in the ditch outside. I would have followed after him, had I not seen the state of the knight. I brought him to the castle. This can be confirmed by his majesty.” She claimed, putting emphasis on her words. Qyle awkwardly rearranged his seating, he had been awfully quiet this entire process.
“Thank you, Tamarra.” Lord Rogan smiled, and Tamarra nodded before joining the other witnesses. There was some discussion amongst the lords, discussion which built into restricted argument. The crowd did the same. Qyle shook his head.
“Enough!” He shouted, and instantly all eyes turned on him, and silence arrived quicker than usual. He sighed, rising from his chair. “If there is anything I’ve learnt from this testimony, it’s that we all know little.” Qyle claimed, and a soft murmur uttered amongst the crowd, words of disagreement and acknowledgement.
“So I suggest we hand Ser Darren over to those that do know the truth.” He stated, pointing his finger above him. “The gods.” He elaborated, and the murmurs grew louder. “Ser Darren, I am giving you the choice to choose your form of judgement. Would you prefer the septon’s judgement, or trial by combat?” He simply asked, and Darren took a moment to register the choices presented to him.
The judgement of seven septon’s would be an unbiased trial, and a trial before the gods, without the sights of men. Yet it came down to the septon’s, the men, to decide fate. However, perhaps that was better than risking it all in a trial by combat. Darren bit his lip, his chains rattling as he moved uneasily.
[Choose Trial by Combat] [Choose Septon’s Judgement]
Alright, it is save to say that I have not expected this. Jorrhen has previously stated that he wants Darren to work for him from now on, so I have not expected him to merely use him as a scapegoat now. This would make his previous action, where he met Darren, completely unnecessary, so I believe there still is more to this and that this is not all he wants Darren to do. It's likely just one move in his plan and I guess he sooner or later will offer Darren some way out, knowing that he can't refuse this offer. That way, he would get his scapegoat and a knight to do his wet work. However, the choice, while a brutal one, has come relatively easily for me this time.
[Choose Trial by Combat]
The thing is, choosing the Septon's Judgement would be putting Darren's fate into the hands of someone else. And as he said, it would be up to a man to decide his fate, a septon, who might not be unbiased. A septon can be bought, a septon can be intimidated and if there's anything I trust Jorrhen with, it's that he would do his utmost to make the Septon willing to decide in his favour. He probably wants Darren to do this, thinking that he won't risk the trial by combat, which I guess will go against his brutish bodyguard. However, I believe that Darren, a skilled knight, will be able to take on any man that bastard could send against him. I trust Darren's skills more than I trust the Septon's judgement.
The thing is, an unbiased septon would choose in favour of Darren, this is absolutely clear. Jorrhen just told a confirmed lie to the king and I am honestly a bit baffled that Qyle still even considers that this complete stranger tells the truth about a man he owes his life to. He claimed that he had brought Darren to the castle, whereas Tamarra has the king as her witness that she was the one to do it, so I have to wonder why anyone would still believe that lying rat. I mean, Qyle is not the most competent king, we know that already, but trusting a stranger without any hard evidence, who has told a confirmed lie to his face over his old friend, that's stark. That makes me even more convinced that there is no fair judgement for Darren if he chooses the Septon, because it is likely that Jorrhen has something on Qyle that makes him act in such a shockingly incompetent and stupid way. Most likely, he himself would make sure that the Septon is not unbiased and would decide in favour of Jorrhen's lie. One thing is for sure, Qyle just lost any right to have Darren's service and, frankly, I hope he is not going to survive this story. I say, let's choose the trial by combat, so that Darren can kill whomever is sent against him. Afterwards, he can kill Jorrhen, hopefully in the most horribly brutal way possible and then he can leave that pathetic excuse for a king and his moronic court to find a better ruler to serve, someone who doesn't actually throw old friends under the bus without any evidence.
Darren
He awoke with a tender reoccurring thud in his head. Darren gripped the soft woollen blankets that covered him, stripping them off… more lazily. He opened his eyes cautiously, squinting as the light flooded into his vision, momentarily blinding him. He lifted his hand to shield the glare until his eyes adjusted.
He was in Heart’s Home, that much was clear. The natural light reflected off the glistening marble walls, darting around the room and revealing its contents. Darren was in one of the King’s guestrooms, a large suite consisting of everything a household required, only packed in to one room. Arguably, this room was large than half of the houses that the commoners lived in.
Darren pulled himself up, feeling weak and dizzy as he sat upright. His eyes travelled across the room, landing on a beautiful sight. Darren spotted his iron sword resting by his heavy shield, leaning against the marble wall. Beside that, a wooden armour sta… [view original content]
Well, this was interesting for sure. Anyway, I feel like Darren is better off trusting in his combat skills than putting his fate in the Septon's hands. I'm definitely interested to see how will this storyline continue.
Darren
He awoke with a tender reoccurring thud in his head. Darren gripped the soft woollen blankets that covered him, stripping them off… more lazily. He opened his eyes cautiously, squinting as the light flooded into his vision, momentarily blinding him. He lifted his hand to shield the glare until his eyes adjusted.
He was in Heart’s Home, that much was clear. The natural light reflected off the glistening marble walls, darting around the room and revealing its contents. Darren was in one of the King’s guestrooms, a large suite consisting of everything a household required, only packed in to one room. Arguably, this room was large than half of the houses that the commoners lived in.
Darren pulled himself up, feeling weak and dizzy as he sat upright. His eyes travelled across the room, landing on a beautiful sight. Darren spotted his iron sword resting by his heavy shield, leaning against the marble wall. Beside that, a wooden armour sta… [view original content]
Comments
[Ask for their aid]
Ask for the aid
Right, well it would appear this vote has closed with an easy decision. Wylla will ask for their aid.
I have the next part ready, and I apologise for the wait. I am back at school, so there's likely going to be more waits of this time due to workloads picking up, but I'll try and get a couple out weekly. Anyway, the next part goes to the last of the Manderly PoV's, and the first to be introduced: Wyatt Manderly.
The last we saw Wyatt was in his first part, and he was talking with those who requested his audience. One of those was Syvvek of Skagos, who stood as a representative for the 'Lord of Pebbles,' and demanded that the Manderly's submit to Skagos' soon-to-be rule. Another was Lord Karlack of Merman's Cove, a small township on Obsidian Isle. He informed Wyatt of the devastating loss of his son due to the hands of Togarion Bar Emmon, and the sinking of some Eastern Trade vessels which were on route for Duskendale, their allies. Karlack also made mention that the Darklyn's were running their trade route dry, demanding too much and offering too little. Wyatt was left with a few decisions to make, and you guys ultimately chose for Wyatt to have half of the Eastern Military Fleet patrol the waters of Blackwater Bay to prevent further attacks of merchant vessels. Also, you decided to arrange a meeting with Togarion Bar Emmon, rather than the Darklyn's. This part picks up where it left off.
Wyatt
All eyes stared at Wyatt with a longing anticipation, awaiting his decision. He stood before Lord Karlack, a pleading look in his old wet blue eyes. Wyatt had come to his decision. “Lord Karlack, I will lend you half of the Eastern Military Fleet. Captain Samson Sisters will watch over the Blackwater, and will escort our merchant vessels safely to Duskendale.” Wyatt announced, and a saddened but thankful smile building on his old lips. Wyatt nodded to him, turning his gaze back to the guards. The young steward, Colt Hightower, stood with them.
“Colt.” Wyatt called to the boy, to which he hurryingly walked to him. “Yes, my Lord?” He replied, awkwardly rubbing his hands. “Go to Captain Longthorpe’s quarters and inform her that we will set sail for Massey’s Hook.” He ordered, and the boy nodded quickly, before turning and hastily leaving the room. Wyatt turned his eyes to the captain of the guard. “Clear the hall.” He muttered, and the captain passed the order on to the rest of his men.
The room emptied in a matter of minutes, and soon the hall was silent, with only the sound of shallow breathing from the guards. Wyatt took a seat at the steps that ascended to his chair, while the captain of the guard approached him with a dutiful look in his eyes.
“The hall is cleared, my Lord.” He reported, were it not already so blatantly obvious. Wyatt nodded in confirmation. “What would you have done with the guard?” He asked, and Wyatt sighed, shaking his head. “Go attend other duties. Send one to seek out my wife, I wish to speak with her.” The captain nodded, before passing the orders.
Soon the hall was completely empty, and Wyatt bathed in silence for a while. Thoughts roamed around his head, and he admittedly was still affected from his hangover. Thinking was difficult when the aching thumps in his head were beating faster than the rate of his heart, but he still managed to endure.
It was short lived, however, as time seemingly flew at a phenomenal rate, and before he knew it his wife was entering the hall. Wyatt raised his gaze to her beautiful figure, not a day went passed where Wyatt deemed himself a fortunate man to be married to such a beautiful woman. He had met her in his travels through the distant Freehold, and fell in love with the beautiful Vera Velaryon at neat first sight. Securing a marriage was no easy feat, and it consisted of a lot of persistence and assurance, but in the end Wyatt prevailed.
Vera’s beauty was renowned in all of Westeros, and many claimed she was the most beautiful woman in the east. She had long white-silver curly hair, which fell past her tanned shoulders. He alluring violet eyes peered passed these silver and white veils, looking directly at her husband with a passionate gaze.
Wyatt admired her short silken dress, a glimmering silver. Around her waist she wore dark green sash with golden embroidery of a seahorse and trident. Wyatt had to smirk at her attire, Vera was hardly known for her modesty, as her dresses were somewhat revealing. She had a large cleavage, and revealed a lot of leg with her skirt, but her rationale to it was that she liked to feel the breeze on her skin.
Wyatt stood from the steps, looking up at his wife with elated eyes. “Sweet wife.” He greeted, and she smirked back at him. “Husband.” She responded with a nonchalant tone. Wyatt raised an eyebrow to her disinterest, before he was met with perfect embracement. His head rested by her breasts, and he could not help but chuckle.
“You awoke early.” He noted in a poor attempt to distract himself. Vera shook her head, a beautiful smile on her lips. “You slept in.” She corrected him, and Wyatt narrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head. “Me? Never.” Vera gently laughed and rolled her eyes.
“You wanted me?” She finally asked, gazing at him with lustful eyes. Her tone was amorous and seducing, and Wyatt nodded in sobriety. “I am setting sail for Sharp Point by midday.” He revealed, and Vera raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised and curious.
“You only inform me now? She responded with a mildly spiteful tone, but Wyatt shook his head. “I only learnt now. Apparently Togarion Bar Emmon is sinking our ships, and Lord Karlack lost his son on one the sunken vessels.” He informed, and Vera’s expression saddened in empathy. “I shall go pack my things then.” She concluded, turning back to the door. Wyatt caught her hand before she could go, catching her attention with it.
“You’re not coming.” Wyatt regretfully added, and Vera furrowed her eyebrows. “Why not?” It was clear she was not approving of Wyatt’s decision. Wyatt frowned, releasing her hand from his grip. “I do not trust this Andal, I think it would be best if you remain here. Take care of the children, and yourself.” Wyatt pleaded, placing a hand on the minor swell on her belly. Vera frowned, placing her warm hands on his.
“Since when did we ever negotiate with those we trust?” She persisted, but Wyatt’s pleading eyes ended the attempt, and she finally lowered her gaze in defeat. Wyatt took her hands, begging for her attention, to which she sorely gave to him. “I need you here. Especially if your cousin arrives in my absence, Merling Stone cannot be empty of our presence.” Vera nodded, freeing her hands from his.
“I will go tell the children, and we will meet you at the harbour.” She concluded, turning and making her way for the doors, before she stopped herself. “Though you will not leave until I have my needs met.” She added, winking at him in a side glance. Wyatt smirked, hurrying after her.
-
The sun sat at its highest in the sky, which was near cloudless on this day. Wyatt stood on the stone slab pier, a number of trading vessels tied alongside the arms that branched off each side. However the most recognisable ship belonged to Captain Laura Longthorpe. The Mermaid’s Rage was a formidable vessel, with mounted ballista turrets and small catapults. Iron tipped pikes were not too far away, as were used by the crew in naval warfare.
Captain Laura stood at the end of the pier, overseeing the crew of the Mermaid’s Rage, who quickly heaved crates of ammunition on-board. She stood with a parchment list and bronze stylus, slowly ticking off the list as weaponry and projectiles entered and exited the ship. Wyatt made his way to her, and it was not long until her sea green eyes spotted him.
She nodded to him, folding the list and placing it in a breast pocket. She approached him with a stern posture. “My Lord.” She greeted, and Wyatt nodded in return. “Are the ships nearly prepped?” Wyatt questioned, and Laura nodded, her long brown hair falling in front of her eyes. “Just my baby left to go, then we’ll be ready to sail.” She informed him, pulling back her hair and tying it into a ponytail.
Wyatt moved his gaze to the six vessels anchored in the bay, all flew the Manderly flag from their masts. Wyatt nodded, turning his gaze back to the starting of the pier. He saw his wife and two sons slowly approaching, though his sons broke into a sprint when they saw their father.
Wyatt chuckled, outstretching his arms in warm welcome, and his sons nearly bowling him over. Wyatt tightly embraced the both of them, until his wife was closing in. Wyatt released the two boys, who looked at him with keen eyes. In normal circumstances, a father would likely kneel down before his boys, but for Wyatt his sons were nearing his height at their young and pristine age. So Wyatt stood.
“Take care of your mother, and be good representatives of House Manderly when Lord Varys arrives.” He ordered them, putting his hands through their silver hair which they inherited from their mother. Vera arrived with a new dress, being ocean blue this time, but of similar design to the previous one. She smiled at him, placing her hands around the shoulders of the boys.
“Come home safe.” She commanded him, and Wyatt nodded cockily. “Of course.” He smirked, before she took him by the scruff of his shirt and kissed him. “Come back to me.” She whispered, and Wyatt nodded seriously now. “I will.” He promised, and she left his side mildly satisfied. Laura Longthorpe cleared her throat awkwardly, grabbing Wyatt’s attention.
“The rest of the work can be done off harbour. We are ready to disembark when you are.” She informed, and Wyatt nodded. Vera’s violet eyes glared at Laura, looking her up and down. “Could you look any more like a man?” Vera provoked, and Laura smirked, turning her gaze to the Valyrian. A witty remark was at the tip of her tongue, but she held herself back when she acknowledged Wyatt’s children in proximity.
“Last chance for a rescue.” Laura muttered under her breath, loud enough for Wyatt to hear, which made him chuckle. Vera scowled at her. “Thank you, Laura. Let us make haste.” Wyatt decided, giving his final farewells to his sons and wife. Laura turned and boarded the Mermaid’s Rage.
Wyatt followed shortly after, climbing the wooden ramp with caution. “Short Merman!” The raspy voice from Syvvek of Skagos caught Wyatt off guard, and nearly tripped him into the water between the pier and ship. Recovering from his stumble, Wyatt turned to meet the black eyes of the Skagosi, and his wild companions.
“Syvvek.” Wyatt greeted, though not in the warmest of tones. The Skagg grinned, turning his attention to his companions dressed in furs. “These are my blood brothers: Isyger, Rauval, Varadol and Steirne.” He announced, and Wyatt nodded to the four men, before turning his gaze back to Syvvek.
“A pleasure.” Wyatt faked a smile, before turning back and climbing onto the vessel. Syvvek followed after him, before being stopped by two of Laura’s crewmembers. It was clear that the Skagossan did not approve of this interruption. Laura joined Wyatt’s side, glaring at the brutes on the pier.
“Have you considered our offer?” Syvvek persisted, and Wyatt let out a heavy sigh. “Still in the process, it’s a difficult decision.” Wyatt lied, turning to seek his quarters. Syvvek continued to persist however.
“We’d like to join you in your… Negotiations.” Syvvek informed him, a bloodthirsty grin building up on his face. Wyatt turned his gaze back to the Skagossan’s ‘blood brothers,’ who had unsheathed their weapons of bronze. They were heavily outnumbered by the harbour guard, along with Laura’s crew. Yet Wyatt knew that these men weren’t likely going to back down easily. However he feared that bringing the Skagosi along could interrupt his negotiations with the Bar Emmon’s, and be a danger for the crew.
[Accept Syvvek] [Deny Syvvek]
[Accept Syvvek]
This was a choice that got me thinking. My first impulse was to take them, because they might be useful. Then I thought it might be better to deny them, since they might fuck up the chance of a peaceful negotiation. Then I wanted to take them, if only because these Skagosi give me Vikings vibes and they all seem like super interesting characters. After that, I changed my mind again, because their bloodlust could be a danger to the crew. However, I ultimately took them exactly because of that, the danger they might pose to those around them. Just think about it, if Wyatt leaves them, they are pissed off and not satisfied in their violence. Who knows, if they are crafty enough they could find a way to punish his family for that. I think it is better to keep them close, to make sure they won't stay anywhere near those who can't protect themselves. And, of course, they are interesting characters, which is no small argument in its own. Argh, this is one of the few times I had such an argument with myself about the choice without one of my characters even remotely being involved in it and I love it!
Well, I don't even know if I can break apart your comment and answer it in sections. I can only say this comment really amused me, and I'm thoroughly enjoying seeing you struggle to make up your mind here
It delights me to see that you're enjoying your self-argument however, I must be doing something right with the choices in this part 
[Accept Syvvek]
[Accept Syvvek] Fuck it, the Skagosi are badass, let's take them
Accept them The skagosi are always welcome
[Accept Syvvek] It is defintely for the best to keep the Skagosi close.
[Accept Syvvek]
Eh, It is going to win anyways.
Right, well I won't just yet close the part as not everyone has voted, but I have got the new part ready. I was originally planning to make it a York part, but I couldn't hold my excitement back any longer, so I've written out the part to a new PoV. He is an Andal, and will be one of the PoV's to introduce Dorne in the not too distant future. So without saying much more, I'll let you guys read the part
Morgan
The sky was a blood red with the descent of the sun in the west, reflecting on the water of the Narrow Sea which lapped across the private shoreline of the Golden Spear’s estate. Their land stretched for miles to the south and east. North of them was the Bay of Pearls, belonging to the craven Gemmed King of the Pearled City. To the west was the Narrow Sea, and beyond that, Westeros.
Morgan stared at the lapping waves, surrounded my men and women who had come to mourn the loss of his father. The Golden Spear. A legendary figure of Andalos, with a story that was considered a myth by many, but spoken highly of by the smallfolk. Those who personally knew the Golden Spear knew that his reputation highly outweighed him, alas, they came to his funeral.
The seared flesh of the burned man lay high amongst the unlit pyre, aimlessly staring into the red sky. Morgan stood amongst the crowd, staring at the septon with impatience. He stood amongst men who held respect for a lie, and he held too much respect for the old man to say otherwise. The septon began his eulogy.
“We’re gathered here to honour the life of a legendary man.” He began, and a soft murmur spread amongst the crowd. “The Golden Spear.” The septon announced with a proud tone. “The man who challenged the dragon, and slew the rider. The man that proved that the Valyrian’s are not immortals, that we need not fear these men on beasts. The Golden Spear inspired the Great Army we follow today, led by King Qarlon. The King of all Andal’s!” He claimed, and received a cheer from the crowd. Morgan remained silent. Far from the truth, he flippantly thought, shifting his gaze to the septon.
“May the Seven guide him, and bring his soul salvation. Seven blessings.” He mumbled, and the crowd murmured in repeat. On signal, the flame was passed to the septon, and place under the pyre. The wooden structure came alight within seconds, flames dancing to the night. Morgan could not help but think of the fire worshipers he had met in the east. The crowd slowly began to disband, going their own ways. Morgan took his chance now to pay his respects.
Reaching into his coat, Morgan’s hand secured around the leather straps. He pulled from his coat and into the light. A thin leather banding, and a golden seven-pointed star as a pendant. A necklace his father had given him before Morgan left on a pilgrimage with many other young folk years ago. How that became a change of events, he thought, memories flooding back to him. He sighed, taking a final glance at the pendant, before he tossed it into the fire. A rush of emotions instantly hit him. Remorse, relief, perplexity. He frowned.
“Master Martell?” The familiar voice of Septon Militar called. Morgan turned his gaze back to the old man who had given the eulogy, a warm look in his old brown eyes. “It is you!” He realised almost immediately, and instantly pulled Morgan into embracement. Morgan unwillingly accepted it, awkwardly. Militar quickly separated from him.
“It’s been so long, Morgan. I feared the worst.” Militar admitted, and Morgan sighed, awkwardly rubbing his hands. “It took me a while until I found my true calling.” Morgan reluctantly said, and the septon nodded. “What of the others?” Morgan had to bite his tongue.
“Still searching.” He lied, but the septon was gullible enough to accept it. The pilgrimage through the Valryian colonies all those years ago had transpired well, until they reached the city of Volantis. There they came across a certain slaver which one of Morgan’s conglomerates had drunkenly pissed off. It got him killed, which was perhaps the best outcome out of the rest, as the others were put into slavery.
“I see. Well, shall we return to the homestead?” He suggested, and Morgan nodded sternly. “So tell me, how did your pilgrimage unfold?” The septon asked with a genuine curiosity. Morgan frowned, there was no way to avoid it.
“Well, after travelling through the Valyrian colonies, we moved on to the Freehold itself” Morgan spoke half the truth, they were forced to the Freehold. “The Valyrian Freehold? Did you see the dragon that burned your father? Did you see the Ash Wraith?” The old man asked in astonishment, and Morgan nodded.
“Caranthir.” He corrected, and the septon raised an eyebrow. “I spoke to the dragon’s rider, and we found some common ground.” Morgan revealed, and this part was true, yet it was a lot more complicated than it seemed. It consisted of a lot of apologies, and slowly earned trust.
“I continued on after that to the Kingdom of Sarnor, and the Empire of Ghis. I’d have gone further, but news travelled far that the Golden Spear had fallen into his death bed.” The septon nodded. “Very honourable of you, Morgan.” He complimented, and Morgan shrugged it off. “It’s duty.” Morgan simply put it, to which Militar scowled in response. The estate had reached their view now.
“Your father was a hero to our people.” The septon protested in defence, but Morgan cared little for his father’s fanatics. “I hear you follow Qarlon now. How long until you ‘conquer’ Andalos?” Morgan mocked, and received a castigating glare from the old man.
“You should honour your father, take up arms with us. King Noriphos is an unfit ruler for Andalos.” Militar deplored, but Morgan shook his head. “Septon, I engaged on a pilgrimage to find my calling. I did. There are distant lands which we Andal’s have yet to see, and I will explore them.” Morgan vowed, receiving a reprimanding look from the old man. He sighed. “You’re sure?” He asked in an attempt to change his mind, but Morgan nodded sternly. “Very well.” He muttered in disappointed.
They reached the doors of the estate just before the sun had completely set in the west. Morgan eyed the oaken doors with pensive eyes. The golden spear was on the centre of the doors. Septon Militar sighed, clasping his hands together. “I’m afraid this is where we go our separate ways. It was a pleasure to see you again.” He farewelled, turning from Morgan, “Wait!” Morgan called, and the septon momentarily halted. “You will be returning back to Qarlon?” Morgan presumed, and the septon nodded.
“I will.” He confirmed, and Morgan smirked. “So you will be stopping by the Pearled City.” Morgan realised, and the septon nodded once again. “Unfortunately.” Morgan grinned. “Would you deliver a message for me?” The septon raised an eyebrow.
“To whom?” He asked, and Morgan shrugged. “To anyone that will listen. Tell them that the son of the Golden Spear is looking for ships to sail to Westeros. Tell them that any warlord interested will be guaranteed land where no other Andal has settled.” The septon furrowed his eyebrows, but did not bother to question it.
“Anything else?” He grumbled, and Morgan smirked. “Yes. Give King Qarlon my regards.” He asked, and the septon smiled before nodding. “Safe travels, Morgan.” He bidded, and Morgan nodded to him. “Seven guide you.”
No decision.
Ah, a Martell PoV. It should be great to get a taste of Dorne in the story. That has always been one of my favourite locations in the world of Ice and Fire, so I look forward for your interpretation of it very, very much. And this was a nice introduction for Morgan, setting up a lot of things I look forward for. I liked the general feel of this PoV a lot and I could see him potentially becoming one of my favourites. To be fair though, there are so many I like that it should be hard to pin down exact favourites in most cases.
I also see a certain dragon mentioned, which I have not expected, but greatly appreciated. I wonder whom it was Morgan's father slew though. Got an idea there, just like how I got an idea whom Morgan himself has spoken to. Ah, this makes me so excited for future things to come
I truly can't exaggerate how excited I am to get this new story arc started. With the characters received for this location, and the plans I've got set there, it's arguably going to be one of my favourite story locations. Closely tied with the North
I struggled a little with how I wanted to introduce him, and ended up scrapping a lot of ideas. As seen, I ended up working with the inspiration for the Martell's coat of arms
He is going to be a great PoV, and I'm biased but I'd say he's going to be in my top five 
Indeed, it had been an idea for a while which I wanted to check up with you on, but after further consideration I deemed that it would fit, and went for it. Builds up hype for the sequel somewhere in the future
I'd love to read your speculations 
Cool, looking forward for Dorne storyline... you know why :-p
Ah, when you said we'd get a Martell PoV, I didn't even consider that we'll actually get to see the birth of the House! It's awesome though, and I'm already hyped for Morgan's storyline. Of course, there are other things in Dorne that I'm also hyped for
Anyway, if for some reason I'll ever write about the history of House Martell in NW, I'll definitely go with the Invasion canon 
Well the others have said plenty about it already but I will say this is indeed an epic intro! It seems we will get to see the birth of House Martell in Dorne which is no doubt going to be awesome and I am very excited to see Morgan's role in the story unfold. I am also very much excited to see the role Dorne in general plays in the Invasion and now I know I need to make the time to add my Dornish contributions to the story!
Well, only knowing some tiny scraps and hints of your plans, I of course don't know if it will be one of my favourite locations. That said, I am not even sure which one could qualify as my favourite location. The North is definitely a strong contender, so if Dorne is anything as great as that storyline, I know we're in for something amazing
Top 5? Well, yeah, I think that could be in the realms of possible. Of course, there is some pretty heavy bias for me to overcome, but Morgan has the potential to become a part of my five favourites for sure, I wouldn't put it past him. He definitely has the presence for it. Let's see where he stands at the end of the chapter.
Alrighty, speculation then. I'd say the one he has spoken to has been Maegor most likely. I am not sure if he has slain the rider of Caranthir, or simply one particular dragonrider, the narration hasn't been too precise there, but if it was Caranthir's rider, then it would make sense for him to be a relative of Maegor, which would also explain just why this talk between them has been so hard.
Right, well I'll bring this vote to a close. Wyatt will accept Syvvek aboard the Mermaid's Rage. This will certainly have its pro's and con's, which we'll see once they arrive at Sharp Point.
I have the next part ready, and it goes to Kira Tyrner, the Andal commoner and seamstress
The last time we saw Kira, a noise was heard in her apartment, and she went to investigate with a weapon in hand. It was then that she was attacked by a man who would nearly rape her, yet she would put an end to that with a dagger to his chest. Far from over however, Kira had to make a nifty escape out the window of the two story building, and injured her leg on the way down. Making a run for it, Kira weaved through the alleys and corridors until bumping into a rich man and his guards. You lot chose to ask for his help, and the new part picks up where it last left off 
Kira
Her leg throbbed with a severity which surged up her body. Kira gritted her teeth, feeling herself becoming weaker as each moment passed by. She stared into the light blue eyes of the large man before her, clutching onto the muscled arms of one of his guards. She limped towards him, instantly losing her balance and crumbling into his open arms.
“Please.” She barely uttered. “Help me.” She begged, and received the confused and sympathetic gaze of a rich man, a look she had seen many times before. A look which shouted that there was nothing he could do for her, despite both of them knowing it was far from the truth. It was clear that there was a question at his lips, but he was interrupted before he could speak them.
The alley seemed to transform from the dark and quiet walkway to a lit and loud cage. Kira clutched onto the large man’s arm, placing herself behind his comforting large size. An ideological shield, but not one that would protect her. What rich Andal would protect someone like her? With fearful eyes, Kira stared at the brutes that now crowded the alleyway. There were at least a half a dozen of them, with more approaching.
“Gentlemen.” The fat Andal greeted, Kira cowering behind him. He received ire glares and distaste. “Out of the way, pig.” One ordered, a large man wielding a carving knife. The large Andal smiled, clasping his hands together.
“Now, there’s no need for that. We’re only on a calm stroll.” He assured, but received the saliva of another by their feet. “That whore belongs to the Father’s Sons! Last chance.” He warned, and the man’s smile died down. His guards readjusting the grips on their blades.
“Whoever she is, it appears she has no desire to be with you men anymore. Go bother someone else, before someone gets hurt.” The rich man pleaded, and received dominating glares with menacing looks for Kira. She gripped the fat man’s shirt tighter.
“Fuck you.” The one with the carving knife muttered, confidently stepping forward first, and unknowingly to a quick and merciful death. The guard slit is throat with ease, and was back in form for his next rival, a scrawny man wielded with an axe.
His companion took on two of the brutes with his shortsword, parrying the blows of a machete, and dodging the slow but powerful blows of a mace. He was quick to open the belly of the machete wielder, before disarming the other brute of his mace with a well-placed punch in the gut.
The first guard had now lodged his blade throat the scrawny man’s neck. All he could do was gurgle the blood which flow out the fresh wound and his mouth. Kira felt herself losing grip of the plum round man, tumbling back with a painful thud.
No energy to scream, no strength to fight the pain. Blood rushed to her head, and darkness quickly faded her vision. Everything blackened with a constant surging thud, beginning from her injured leg and concluding in her skull. Then it went numb, and cold.
-
The pain put her to a restless sleep, and retrieved her from it. Her aching leg was secreting sweat into the slowly saturating mattress. Kira tried to lift her head, but each attempt just left her feeling perplexed and dizzy. Where am I? She wondered, with the best of her abilities, staring at the tiled roof above her. Her eyes fixed on a crack in the painted works which made a vessel sailing across the ocean, but there was a separation in the sail which revealed a grey unnatural mix.
Kira focused on the crack, trying to feel her way through her body. Her body was coated in sweat, despite a thin silken blanket only covering her lower half. She could feel her wet fingers, and wiggled her left set of toes with ease. Yet when it came to her right leg, a source of pain jolted through her body with such pain it made her cringe. Any movement made her groan in agony, which called only for attention.
A woman was suddenly hovering over her, but Kira could not make out her face, she was a blur. Yet there was something calming about her presence, something relieving. Kira clenched the silk sheets as another wave of pain jolted up her leg. She gritted her teeth, trying to conceal a scream.
“Drink this.” The calm woman’s voice begged, a small cup appearing before her lips. Kira could not see the contents, and was reluctant. “Milk of the poppy.” She assured, pressing the cup to Kira’s lips. “Drink.” She ordered, and hesitant, Kira obeyed. Numbness returned, spreading over her body like an infestation. She was tired, her head filled with clouds. Kira unwillingly shut her eyes, falling back into a haunted sleep.
Images of the past appeared in her whitened vision, flashing past her as if she was moving at incredibly unrealistic speeds. When she was brought to a sudden halt, a land settled out in front of her, flat with crop and soil.
Kira looked around, as if recognising where she was. The farm? Her father worked hard in the fields, ploughing the land with his four sons. Darren was among them. Kira shook her head, confused. She turned her attention back to the house, where her mother and three sisters sewed and cooked. “Mother?” She whispered, her tone near inaudible, and in certain disbelief.
All of a sudden, her mother’s eyes turned to her, accompanied by her three sisters. Kira felt the prickling of someone behind her, and her instincts found her brothers and father to be watching her as well. She shook her head, confused and torn. She flickered between them all, and slowly they began to decay. They became decrepit and weak, sinking into the ground. Kira screamed, trying to run to them, but her feet would not budge.
They were all gone. All but one. Darren stood in the field, a shovel in his hands. He leaned against it, staring into a hole he had dug. Kira found herself moving closer, until the contents were revealed. Her family stacked on top of each other, flies and dirt desecrating their remains. Kira swatted at them, tears flowing down her cheeks with an ire passion.
The wind caught them adrift, and soon she found herself by the water’s edge, a ship floating out to sea. Darren watched her from the aft of the vessel, donned in light armour and a longsword. Kira stood waist deep in the sea, waves lapping at her chest. In her hands were a note and quill.
The waves soon grew stronger, until they bowled her down. She stared up into the sky, a body of water between her and air. She watched the birds and fish, the ships which fought and sunk down to her depth. The blood, the bodies. Bronze, steel, fire. Kira lay among them, lifeless and cold, pain in her leg.
-
She opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling portrait, the cracked sail. Is it real? She asked herself, lifting her hands to her face, waiting for them to turn into a nightmare. They didn’t. Her leg reassured her she was awake.
Kira pulled herself up, instantly feeling a lot cooler. She sat in a silk bed, in a room she did not recognise. It was large, larger than her home. She looked around, taking in her surroundings. A lantern lit the otherwise dark room, and her shadow was cast onto the wall like a giant. Those walls were decorated in golden paints, but otherwise white in appearance. A few glass windows showed the darkness of the night sky. She wanted to see it.
Straightening herself, she pulled back the sheets. It revealed a sweaty mess of her wet leg, tightly bandaged. Kira tried to move apply movement, but had difficulty with the bandaging. She lifted her leg off the bed, preparing herself to stand. Guided by her strong leg, she stood herself up. So far so good.
Her legs felt stiff, unused and old. How long have I been here? She wondered, taking her first step. The weight of her body shifted from her strong leg to her weak, and she instantly regretted it. Kira tumbled to the floor, a loud thud against the shined floorboards. She groaned, bashing her fist against the floor.
Determined to reach the window, she pulled herself forward an inch. She would crawl there if she couldn’t walk, and so she did. Pulling herself up with the aid of the window sill, Kira got a view of outside the room. The night sky was dark and covered in cloud, and Kira found it difficult to see. Though one thing was certain, the complex she was in was big. Very big.
As she tried to identify the shapes, a sound of footsteps emerged from outside the wooden doors of the room. Kira shifted her gaze in panic, looking around for a safe spot to hide. Her options were minimal, and by the time she had come to a decision the doors swung open. Kira steading herself against the wall, preparing for what was to come.
In the doorway stood a plump man, wearing gown of silk, as dark and blue as the night sky. He clasped his hands, looking at Kira with his light blue eyes. “You’re awake.” He observed, and Kira stared at him hesitantly. His expression instantly changed to something more embarrassed.
“Forgive me, where are my manners? I am Lorrhen, and you?” He asked with an amiable tone. Kira sceptically eyed him over, before reluctantly answering. “Kira.” She muttered, and Lorrhen gave her a warm smile.
“It is a pleasure, Kira.” He said with kind and honeyed words, and Kira nodded, turning her gaze back out the window. “Where am I?” She asked, fingering the wooden windowsill. Lorrhen took a step inside, and receive Kira’s glare, to which he came to a halt.
“My mansion. We’re in the capital, the Pearled City.” He informed her, and she furrowed her eyebrows. The Pearled City? The capital was for nobility, knights of the crown and the king’s honoured guests. “I shouldn’t be here.” Kira acknowledged, turning away from the window. Lorrhen frowned.
“You can’t return to your home. The Father’s Sons know where you live, you wouldn’t be safe there.” He protested, and Kira raised an eyebrow. “What do you care for my safety?” She spited, and he sighed. “No one should be victim to those foul men.” Lorrhen simply mumbled, but Kira was unconvinced.
“You know them then?” She questioned, and he nodded. “Unfortunately.” He sighed, crossing his arms. “They’ve been interrupting with my business, scaring off trade and stealing my profit. I came to Southpoint to investigate a business that came to a close because of them. That’s how I ran into you.” He explained, and Kira nodded curiously.
“You’re a merchant then?” She asked, and a warm smile reached his lips. “I am.” He admitted proudly. Kira shook her head, confused. “So why bring me here, how long have I been here?” She spoke her thoughts, and Lorrhen took it surprisingly well.
“You’ve been out of it for a few days. You had sprained your leg pretty bad, and I knew none of the healers in Southpoint would be of much help to you. I own a small hospital myself, and have reach to some of the best medicine in Essos.” Kira furrowed her eyebrows, crossing her arms.
“Why help me?” She asked again, and Lorrhen took another step closer to her. “It was the right thing to do.” He wisely said, but unconvincingly. “Perhaps there will be profit in it.” He added, a touch of greed in his tone. Kira raised her eyebrows. “I have no coin to pay you.” She fretted, and Lorrhen immediately shook his head. “There will be no need for that, my lady. Though I could use your help.” He suggested, and Kira furrowed her eyebrows.
“What use could a seamstress be to a merchant that lives in the Pearled City?” She asked ignorantly, and worried for what the answer might be. I will not sell him my body. She vowed. She would never. “Not a seamstress, but a handmaiden.” Kira raised an eyebrow. “Handmaiden? To who?” Lorrhen gave her a warm and reassuring smile.
“Princess Celia.” He revealed with nonchalant tone. Princess? Kira thought, perplexed by the idea of it. Lorrhen nodded, as if to answer her thoughts. “I want you to serve her, and become close with her. To learn of Noriphos’ ambitions.” He instructed. “You want me to spy on the king?” She questioned, intimidated by the thought of it. Lorrhen nodded, clasping his hands together.
“Of course, you could also deny my offer. However I cannot assure your safety from those mongrels that stormed your home, and are no doubt looking for you now. If you accept, all you would have to do is serve the Princess diligently, and report what you have learned to me.” Kira found herself awkwardly rubbing her hands, moving her attention out the window.
The streets were silent, but if Lorrhen was right, the Father’s Sons would be out there. What do they want with me? There were so many questions, and so few answers. Maybe she would be safer with Lorrhen, but even then there were unanswered questions.
[Accept Lorrhen’s offer] [Deny Lorrhen’s offer]
[Accept Lorrhen's offer]
Yes, Yes, a thousand times Yes!
First of all, Lorrhen has proven himself to be a trustworthy person. He didn't have to save her the way he did. Doing this favor for him would be a wise decision. Serving Princess Celia practically guarantees her safety from the thugs that tried to kill her. Not serving her will just put her back in the dangerous situation she was in before. Plus, I just like the idea of her becoming the handmaiden to Princess Celia. This will be a chance to show off the Royal Family of Andalos.
Oh man, when you told me there might be a Kira part coming up in the next parts, I didn't think you'd mean the very next part
I like this, I like this a lot.
[Accept Lorrhen’s offer]
So, first of all, I think we made the right choice with trusting Lorrhen over these other guys. The thing is, no matter what might come out of this for Kira in the future, Lorrhen not only helped her, he also treated her leg. Considering how seriously wounded she was, something I completely underestimated, not getting the good treatment he provided her with could have ended up crippling her, by preventing her leg from healing properly. Who knows what these other guys would have done if she would have tried to escape from them. If they wouldn't have outright raped and murdered her, it is at least unlikely they would have treated her wounds.
Then, I must say I don't really trust Lorrhen. His son obviously has an interest in capturing Kira, if only so that he has some genuine leverage in his deal with Darren. Then there is the fact that for all his seeming kindness, he is a super shady guy and I am half-expcting him to be actually really cold and cruel behind this affable and kind exterior. At the very least, he is using Kira. However, at the same time, I believe that he is genuine with his offer of protection as long as she proves to be useful for her. He seems like a smart and pragmatic man, so I doubt he'd screw her over for no reason and as long as she can be of use to him, she can profit from this, by being kept save from these Father's Sons gang. Speaking of, I wonder what they wanted to do to her, or more specifically, why they wanted her in particular. Is there something else going on that makes Kira super important somehow? Lorrhen might have just taken a chance when he saved her, but even then, his appearance there is quite the coincidence, given how far above he is to the people who usually live in Kira's area.
Still, trust or not, I believe that working with Lorrhen is the better option for now. Some protection is better than none at all. He helped her before. These thugs know where she lives and they found her before, so she wouldn't be save without his help. Of course, for this help she has to do something that could be even mor dangerous, but for now, she lacks the alternatives and is in no position to refuse his offer. I must also say, I am glad that Lorrhen is overall less of a bastard than I thought, at least he seems to be less of a bastard. Of course, he is clearly a stone cold manipulator, but he doesn't seem outright malicious or evil, more like a pragmatist who uses every chance he can get, but not like the kind of guy who does bad things without reason. There is even the possibility that he, unlike some of the other guys Kira could have encountered, is able of genuinely kind behaviour, maybe even without having that much of an advantage of it. Helping Kira and then giving her the choice of working for him is the best example of this. This fact that he gave her the choice makes me willing to accept his offer and I think, while I might regret this, I will probably regret it less than not accepting it.
Accept Lorrhen's offer
Well, perhaps a change of plans. I couldn't help myself
Indeed, choosing to ask Lorrhen for help certainly had benefits, and definitely helped Kira on a physical health side of things. Ending up in the hands of the Father's Sons could have been rather catastrophic for Kira, as you are indeed right, their medical capabilities are nowhere near Lorrhen's.
I can certainly see your rationale behind this, and I accept that. Jorrhen is a complete arse to say the very least, and we'll see more of Jorrhen's schemes soon enough, maybe in Darren's next part. When it comes to your thoughts, I'm afraid I cannot answer them just yet, as they're still to be revealed in the story. However all will be clear soon enough.
Working with Lorrhen certainly has it's pro's and con's, and having her accept his terms definitely gives me a way to show of more of Noriphos and his family (as we've seen very little of him). However as you say, this is very dangerous work. Spying on the king is no easy feat, and it doesn't exactly help that Kira sticks out amongst most people (I may have dropped a hint to you a while back about her hair?
). There is a lot to Lorrhen that we do not know so far, and you'll find that he has quite a tragic past to him.
[Accept Lorrhen’s offer] Well, this would give us a PoV at Noriphos' court, which certainly intrigues me. Also, Lorrhen is a very interesting character. He seems like a nice person, but at the same time there is a bit of shady vibe to him.
[Accept Lorrhen’s offer]
Well, it looks like this vote has come to a close. Kira will accept Lorrhen's offer. A wise decision, and probably the best decision of the two. This will certainly add onto Kira's story in a much more interesting way, as to if she had chosen to deny and leave Lorrhen. A bumpy road lies ahead of Kira now.
Now it was initially planned that I would write a Darren part after Kira's part, and I did some rearranging of some parts just to have a natural flow from one location to another after introducing Morgan. However I've found some inspiration to write the part for a new PoV, introducing Dorne into the story. The PoV's name is Jaremy Sand, and he is the bastard son of Franklyn Brownhill. So being of Jaremy's nature, for this example I'm going to say f*ck it. We'll be jumping to Dorne real quick, before going over to the Vale
So, I hope you enjoy his first part 
Jaremy
The warm winds of the sandy coast flurried through his hair, warming his tanned skin. Jaremy stood at the bow of the Valyrian merchant vessel, Sea Dragon. His arms crossed, staring at the desert shores ahead of them. Dorne. The land of desert, a land that was once his home, and now he had returned.
The mouth of the Greenblood was southwest of them, they had to be heading for Old Wreck, the seat of House Hull. Old Wreck was one of the many houses on the Greenblood. The Hull’s owned all the land north of the Greenblood inlet, bordering with the Toland kingdom in the north, and the Brownhill’s in the west.
Jaremy sighed, scratching his arm, a numb tingle occurred. The Brownhill’s were his family, with a strong emphasis on were. He was an exile, and now he returned. What would they think of that? He didn’t care, his time banished was over. He came back only for one reason. Elise. The love of his life, a life that was snatched away from him. Jaremy tightened the grip he had around his arms.
The sound of someone clearing their throat caught Jaremy’s attention. He turned his gaze to the short man behind him, another passenger on the Sea Dragon. Jaremy recognised the Tyroshi tradesmen immediately, his slicked grey hair and orange dyed beard. Taznak Marone. The Tyroshi had boarded during their stop in Lys, pleading for passage back to Tyrosh. He had to come to Dorne first.
“We’re finally here.” He observed, his thick accent only just understandable. Jaremy shifted his gaze back to the coast in silence. “Not much of a talker, are you?” Taznak noted, joining him at the prow of the vessel. “Very well.” He mumbled, defeated. The two stared at the small township that was slowly growing into their view.
“This is home for you then?” The Tyroshi asked, and Jaremy sighed. “Almost.” He muttered, causing Taznak to grin. “I sense there is some unhealed wounds in this land for you.” The Tyroshi confidently presumed, and Jaremy gave him a side glance that could only be described as murderous. A natural look for Jaremy now. It caused the Tyroshi to gulp.
“Keep your ‘senses’ to yourself, old man.” Jaremy warned, and Taznak awkwardly nodded, lifting his hand and pulling at his collar. He was sweating in his clothing, he was certainly not dressed for Dornish climate. A grey tunic with black velvet decorations, trousers as black as charcoal. It was clear that this Tyroshi liked to express his wealth through his attire, something that Jaremy cared little for.
Jaremy stuck to simpler clothing. Sleeveless light leather armour, which revealed his tanned muscular arms, and simple leather pants. By his waist were two sheathed weapons, a Valyrian short sword and an ivory dagger, each having its own tale. Jaremy lowered his hands to his side, both resting on the hilts of his two weapons.
“So, how did a slave manage to obtain a Valyrian steel sword?” Taznak asked, sticking his nose into other’s business as he was known to do. He referred to the mark branded onto Jaremy’s neck: a cross with a circle above it. Jaremy unsheathed the blade from his belt, revealing it to the hot Dornish sun. He then pointed it towards the Tyroshi, forcing him to take a step back, his eyes widening.
“It was given to me, by a man called Manyx Taranyon. It was his, and now it’s mine.” Jaremy bluntly stated, admiring the beauty of the Valyrian forged steel, while Taznak’s brow was saturating in sweat. “And I’m no slave.” He informed, and the Tyroshi nodded quickly. Jaremy lowered the blade, sheathing it back to his belt. Taznak blew out a heavy breath of relief. Jaremy turned his gaze back to the coast, the town had grown since he last looked. “Now, fuck off.” The Tyroshi nodded, quickly descending the steps and returning back into the hull. Jaremy took hold of the balustrades, glaring at the town of Old Wreck.
-
Crates of merchandise were heaved off the Sea Dragon when Jaremy disembarked onto the wooden dock. The wharf was busy, but even still, Jaremy could feel gazes prickling at his skin. People watching him, people avoiding him. Jaremy walked along the wooden arm of the docks, staring at the flapping banner that hung from the town walls. An orange cone shell on a sandy field. House Shell.
Jaremy entered the small city gates, passing the guards with Shell banners. Something wasn’t right. Where are the Hull’s? Jaremy walked aimlessly through the cluttered trading bay. Stalls and merchant carts positioned everywhere, tradesmen and citizens bargaining and arguing over prices. Guards patrolling the streets, flags flying from buildings. None of them belonging to the Hull’s.
Jaremy turned his gaze to one of the merchant carts, an old man packing produce into the back of it. Jaremy approached the man as he was turning to grab another box of goods. “Hey.” He called, trying to grab the man’s attention. He was ignored. Jaremy’s expression turned ire. “Hey!” He tried again, and got nothing once again.
Jaremy shook his head, clenching his fists. He walked up to the merchant, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and pinning him against his cart. Fear haunted the man’s pale brown eyes, an expression which trembled before Jaremy. “Do I have your attention?” Jaremy interrogated, and the man quickly shook his head, pointing to his lips and then his ears. Jaremy found himself losing his patience.
“Hey!” Another voice called out, and Jaremy turned to meet it. He found himself staring into the eyes of a woman, smaller than him, as many women were. Her sea green eyes stared out from behind her sandy blonde hair, which was long and curly but loosely tight back in a ponytail. Her skin tone was light, and the sun had nipped at her vulnerable skin where it was exposed. “He’s deaf.” She explained, pushing Jaremy away from the old man. Jaremy wasn’t finished.
“I want answers.” He seethed bitterly, and the woman shrugged off his resentment. “Don’t we all? You’ll have bugger all luck getting it from him.” She asserted, and Jaremy scowled. “Maybe you can help me.” Jaremy relunctantly suggested, and she took one glance back at the red marks on the old man’s shoulders before scoffing. “Not likely.” She turned and left them. Jaremy sighed, walking after her.
“Wait!” He called, hesitating a moment. “Please.” She stopped a moment, turning her gaze back to him. “What?” She asked, a strong sense of animosity in her tone. Jaremy sighed. “I’m trying to get to Brownhill, and it’s been a while.” She frowned, resting against a cart.
“What’s your name?” She asked, and Jaremy raised an eyebrow, before dubiously answering. “Jaremy Sand. I’m King Franklyn Brownhill’s bastard.” She nodded, crossing her arms. “And what makes you think I know where this… ‘Brownhill’ is?” Jaremy shrugged. “You knew that man was deaf.” He lamely suggested, and she rolled her eyes, climbing onto the driver’s seat of the cart.
“Forget it.” She muttered, taking hold of the reins and spurring her mule forward. The cart slowly moved forward with it, leaving Jaremy behind. The cart moved ten metres or so before coming to a stop, there was a brief moment of silence, despite the chatter all around them. “Get on.” She called impatiently, and Jaremy smirked, quickly chasing after the cart as it started to move again.
-
“So then your father exiled you?” She asked, briefly turning her gaze to him before returning it to the road. Jaremy nodded, running his hand through his beard. “Where did you go?” She asked, and Jaremy waited a moment before answering, taking another drink out of the mead bottle.
“The Reach, the Stormland’s, the Rock. I worked as a sellsword, until I was convinced to join the Valyrian army. It was then that everything went to shit, and we were wrecked on the beaches of Sothoryos, stranded. What few survivors remained ended up dying of illness, leaving me and a fat cook, Golaro.” Jaremy recalled, finishing the rest of the bottle. Looking forward of the road, Jaremy spotted Brownhill, a nervous feeling arose in his gut.
“What? What is it?” The merchant asked, continually turning her gaze back and forth from him and the road. Jaremy shook his head. “Nothing.” He muttered, remaining quiet. She frowned, letting out a long drawn sigh.
“Well if it isn’t clear enough from my skin tone, I’m not from around here either.” She admitted, more to herself than Jaremy. “I was born in the North, to a poor family. I worked hard with my brother to keep us alive, and now I’m here.” She awkwardly concluded, and Jaremy raised an eyebrow. “There’s more to it than that.” He knew, and she nodded. “As is there to your story.” She stated, a smirk on her lips. “Besides, we’re basically here.” She acknowledged, as they climbed the final small hill.
On the other side was Brownton, a small town which surrounded the castle of Brownhill. It was a simple castle, to what Jaremy could remember anyway. Four towers, four walls, a courtyard and a keep. All built at the base of a brown hill, which inspired their name.
“How do you think your father will react to your return?” The merchant asked, and Jaremy shrugged. He genuinely didn’t know, and partly didn’t care. Franklyn had chosen to exile him over hanging him, which Queen Eyla had strongly disapproved of her husband’s decision. Perhaps the old hag was dead, it would be about time that his father was free of that manipulative woman.
“I guess I’ll find out.” Jaremy stated bluntly, and the girl nodded. “Where will you go?” Jaremy asked, and she sighed, looking at her hands for a moment. “I’ll continue on to Greenlake before I try my luck at Yronwood. Then it’s the rest of the kingdoms I suppose, and if no luck then I’ll continue into the Reach.” Jaremy nodded, placing the empty bottle of mead into the back of the cart. They were well into Brownton now. The merchant brought the cart to a halt.
“I won’t forget this.” Jaremy thanked, referring to the lift she gave him. She smirked, rolling her eyes. “With the amount of mead I made you drink just to get you to talk, I’m sceptical.” Jaremy chuckled, pulling himself out of the seat and climbing down the cart. “You never told me your name.” Jaremy realised, and the girl smiled.
“It’s Klare. Klare Varne.” Jaremy gave her an awkward smile. “Thanks, Klare.” She nodded to him. “Best of luck with your family.” She wished, bidding him a farewell after. Jaremy wobbled as he watched the cart he rode on double. He rubbed his head, looking up into the sky. The sun was starting to fall.
Brownton was not a large town, but definitely a hub for traders needing a place to stay. Jaremy was drunk, for better or worse. He contemplated whether he should climb to the castle yet. Fuck what they think. He wanted to see Elise badly, and the thought of waiting another night was tearing him in two.
[Continue to Brownhill] [Find somewhere to rest in Brownton]
[Find somewhere to rest in Brownton]
If he is drunk, better to sober before going to see Elsie, since who knows how she will react seeing him like that.
It's good to see Dorne already here again. Wonder when one particular house will have its first appearance. ;-)
Awesome!
I'm so happy to see Jaremy already, and I feel like there is a great storyline ahead of him. I think you nailed Jaremy's personality and behavior in this part, good work! 
[Continue to Brownhill] I'm fine with the other choice as well, but I feel like this would perhaps be more in-character for him
[Continue to Brownhill]
While I would probably prefer to pick the other choice, it seems like Jaremy wants to go ahead to Brownhill and his mind is basically made up. No need to deprive him I suppose
Find somewhere to rest in Browntown
[Find somewhere to rest in Browntown]
I think this will be the smart thing to do. Who knows how is family and Elise will react to a wild drunken Jaremy appearing (Pokemon reference). He needs to rest, so he can sober up and figure out the best way to approach them.
PS: I sent you a pm about something.
Another new and interesting PoV. Hell, Dorne came as a surprise to me, but it is growing on me so quickly that I am already sufficiently hyped for what's in store for them. And man, I haven't even submitted my contribution to that storyline, I should get to do that soon, after writing a couple of PM's first. Also gotta send one to you about some of the details of my plans. And I can't wait for future parts of this Dorne storyline, with such strong characters, it appears we're going to be in for a treat
[Find somewhere to rest in Brownton]
Ah, I was unsure what to choose here. I already really like Jaremy (to be absolutely honest, I liked his introduction even more than Morgan's, who already had a great scene) and want him to suceed at his next steps, so I am choosing this, as I think it will be better for him, even if I was tempted to pick the former option first, mostly because that would mostly make things pretty hilarious and I always approve of that. But ah, this one will be smarter and, most importantly, it prevents a vote tie. I am fine with both options though, so I have no problem with continuing to Brownhill immediately.
[Find somewhere to rest in Brownton]
in the state he is , it would be better for all if he would rest
Vote closed! Jaremy will find somewhere to rest in Brownton. This isn't necessarily an important choice, but it will determine the behaviour that Jaremy will have when reuniting with his family and Elise. Anyway, we'll be seeing more of Jaremy soon, but for now, I have a Darren part for you!
Last time we saw Darren, he had struck some strife, where his household had been burnt down and he was left a note that told him to meet his perpetrators at a local tavern unarmed and without company, or risk the life of his sister. You guys chose to comply, and so Darren continued onto the tavern, where he was directed to a room and met by the infamous whoreson: Jorrhen (and his body guard Jegg). The two beat him unconscious with little reason as to why, other than the fact that Darren had humiliated them a few days prior. Anyway, this part takes place a few days later, when Darren awakes.
Darren
He awoke with a tender reoccurring thud in his head. Darren gripped the soft woollen blankets that covered him, stripping them off lazily. He opened his eyes cautiously, squinting as the light flooded into his vision, momentarily blinding him. He lifted his hand to shield the glare until his eyes adjusted.
He was in Heart’s Home, that much was clear. The natural light reflected off the glistening marble walls, darting around the room and revealing its contents. Darren was in one of the King’s guestrooms, a large suite consisting of everything a household required, only packed in to one room. Arguably, this room was large than half of the houses that the commoners lived in.
Darren pulled himself up, feeling weak and dizzy as he sat upright. His eyes travelled across the room, landing on a beautiful sight. Darren spotted his iron sword resting by his heavy shield, leaning against the marble wall. Beside that, a wooden armour stand clad with plated iron armour. His armour. Darren grinned, getting out of the large bed.
He instantly felt giddy as he stood, a darkness clouding his vision as his heart started to beat faster, blood rushing through his body. His legs grew weak, he grabbed onto the bedside table, stabilising himself before he would faint. He bent over, remaining that way until his head began to clear, however a nasty thumping continued to persist.
Darren made his way over to the armour, stumbling more than walking. His hand landed on the chest piece as he lost his balance, catching him from the fall. Darren let out a relieved breath, eying his gear that had been melting away in the fire of his home. The fire, the thought was so vague in his mind, and it was the only thing he seemed to recall before he suddenly awoke in Heart’s Home.He frowned, removing the helm from the armour stand. It was a battle helm, visored and forged in the design of a sugarloaf.
The door to the room swung open with little warning, and in walked two men. Marvion Corbray was one of them, his short, near-shaved, blonde hair made him easily recognisable. The other was a man that Darren had met only briefly, Warne Spyre, the Captain of the City Guard. The two looked somewhere between shocked and surprised when they saw Darren standing by his armour, his new helm in his hands.
“Ser Darren.” Marvion then announced, rather nonchalant in his tone. Warne nodded, and Dorne returned to gesture. “Marvion.” Darren greeted informally, causing the crowned prince to smirk. Warne’s eyes widened with such shock of Darren’s colloquialism to the heir of Heart’s Home. Marvion clasped his hands, stopping by the window at the far end of the room.
“We were worried about you, Tyrner. You had been AWOL for nearly a week. We found you unconscious outside some local tavern only a few days ago. Well, we didn’t.” Marvion informed him, staring intently out the window at nothing in particular. Captain Warne stood awkwardly by the door, hands by his side. Darren furrowed his eyebrows.
“I’ve been out for a few days?” He asked, scratching his head with confusion. Marvion turned his gaze back to him, and nodded. “Indeed.” He replied, his tone oddly investigative. “A woman brought you to the castle. You’ve been in that bed for the past two days.” Darren raised an eyebrow, a smirk touching his lips.
“A woman?” He further questioned, and Marvion rolled his eyes. “Father will introduce you to her later.” He assured him, leaving the window. “However, I have a few questions to ask.” Marvion added, and received a disapproving glare from Captain Warne.
“My Prince, perhaps now would not be the best time.” He tried to persuade, but Marvion simply shook his head. “I need to know.” He claimed with solemnity in his voice. He turned his gaze to Darren, beckoning him to a chair. “Would you take a seat, Darren?” Marvion offered, and Darren eyed him cautiously. He was the son of a friend, but he had to wonder why there was such animosity in his eyes. Darren reluctantly took a seat.
“What’s this all about, Marvion?” Darren inquired, and Marvion shook his head, letting out a sigh. “If it’s all the same to you, it would be easier if I be the one asking the questions.” He stated with a formality that was very uncharacteristic to him, making Darren raise an eyebrow. Hesitantly, he nodded.
“Darren, where were you on the night of your household’s destruction?” Marvion questioned, and Darren furrowed his eyebrows in thought. He was with Jaime in a tavern for a while, before he decided to return home. He told him. “And do you have any idea who burnt down your home?” Marvion asked, and Darren thought for a moment.
“There was a note, tucked away in my sword’s sheath.” Darren admitted, and Marvion’s curious eyes turned to Darren’s sword. He slowly walked to the weapon, picking it up and unsheathing it. He stared at himself in the blade’s reflection. “What were the contents of the letter?” He asked, a touch of spite with his words. Warne took a step forward, chagrin his eyes.
“That’s enough, Prince Marvion.” He commanded, before realising what little authority he had. Marvion took grip of the blade in his hand, turning his gaze to Warne. “Captain Spyre, if he is the traitor then I will be the one to find out.” Marvion pressed, and received a menacing glare from Warne. Darren shook his head, confused.
“A traitor?” Darren questioned, and Marvion sceptically eyed Darren over. Warne nodded. “Aye, a traitor amongst our ranks. The First Man prisoner was released from his captivity. Someone freed him.” Warne informed him, and Marvion gave the captain an ireful glare. Darren shook his head again, though this time in denial.
“I had nothing to do with it.” Darren honestly admitted, and Marvion narrowed his eyebrows. “Forgive me, Darren, but I am not yet convinced.” Marvion said, running his offhand over the dull edge of Darren’s blade. “Where were you after the burning after your household? What was in the note?” Marvion interrogated, and Darren shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows. He couldn’t remember. “Where were you?!” Marvion yelled, pointing the blade at Darren. Warne took another step forward in Darren’s defence, a hand now securing on the hilt of his sheathed longsword.
“Marvion!” Warne growled, joining Darren’s side. “This is affair is now under the jurisdiction of the City Guard. Darren will have his testimony before the King, not you.” Warne strictly apprised, receiving a deathly glare from Marvion, before he lowered his gaze entirely.
“If I’m right…” Marvion stared, and Warne shook his head. “Darren will stand his trial before the Seven, and the gods will deem his fate.” Warne declared, and Marvion was defeated. The captain turned his gaze to Darren.
“Would you follow me to the throne room, Ser Darren?” Darren shifted his glare from Warne to Marvion, before he frowned and nodded. He stood from his chair, accompanying the captain out of the room, leaving Marvion with his thoughts.
-
The Heart’s Home throne room was aloud with chatter and activity. The noblemen and handmaiden’s had all gathered to witness Darren’s testimony, his trial, his judgement. All seemed to be aware of his crime, all but Darren himself. Many had even claimed to see him be with Wyllam in the last few days, but alas, Darren had no recollection of it.
Darren stood in the middle of the throne room, his wrists shackled in iron chains. Around him were a crowd of guards, commoners and nobles, and before him were King’s council. King Qyle sat at the mid of the table of judgement, three men either side of him. On his left sat the lords Ruthermont, Donniger and Egen. On his right were the lords Lynderly, Lipps and Templeton.
“Let us begin.” Qyle announced, standing from his seat, a grim expression haunting his face. His eyes apologetic as he looked at Darren. He took a seat, and Lord Rogan Ruthermont rose, his solemn gaze staring beyond Darren.
“Ser Darren Tyrner, you have been called to trial for your mysterious absence, for the betrayal of the kingdom, and the murder of Lord Cyrus Egen’s son.” The lord calmly announced, and there was an uproar to follow in the crowd. Captain Warne, standing beside Darren dutifully, called for quiet. Slowly it arrived, and Rogan continued.
“How do you plead?” He asked, and Darren stood from his seat, looking among the many faces around him. His iron chains clinked and rattled as he stood. “Not guilty.” He stated, hearing the immediate defiance to his words. Silence was called for, and soon the voices quietened.
“Bring in the witnesses.” Lord Rogan ordered, taking a seat. There was a moment of silence before the doors swung open, and three men entered, accompanied by guards. One looked to be an off duty guard, another was tall and skinny, a gaunt face with large ears. His long black hair flowed freely, and there was something familiar about him, but Darren could not pick the name. Finally, he noticed his eyes had deceived him, as the armoured woman brought up the rear. Her blonde ponytail swaying side to side as she walked impatiently, yet her brown eyes showed a generosity. They all took their place before the council, Warne went up to join them.
“Gentlemen, my Lady. Do you all swear by the Seven that evidence you present will speak the truth and only the truth?” Warne publicized aloud. The three nodded. “I do.” They spoke in unison, and Warne presented a Seven-pointed star to each of them, and each kissed the star.
“May the first witness rise to the court.” Lord Roth Donniger called, and the off duty guard was the first to step forward. “State your name.” Roth ordered, and the nervous guard obeyed. “Kristin, m’lord.” He mumbled, barely audible to the crowd. Roth nodded.
“What do you wish to share, Kristin?” He asked, and the guard rubbed his hands awkwardly. “I’d like to give proof to the Ser’s guilt, m’lord.” He muttered, waiting a moment in silence before he spoke up. “I was standin’ guard duty on the night, m’lords and ladies.” He claimed, turning to the crowd. “As my shift came to an end, durin’ handover I saw his Ser’ship approach the cell as I was just leaving.” He stated, and Darren couldn’t help but scoff. “Bullshit.” Darren muttered, and received an ignorant glare from one of the guards closest to him. “Shut your mouth.”
“I passed over, and not long after, that savage filth from the cells was on top of me! He tried to kill me!” He cried, and received a gasp from the crowd. “I fought that filth with me own bare hands I did, but I couldn’t stop ‘im from escapin’ m’lords.” He persuaded them, before Lord Roth gave the next man a nod.
The skinny man stood before the court with clasped hands, a scheming look in his light blue eyes. Lord Roth repeated the question to him, and he let out a small smile. “I am Jorrhen.” He revealed to them, not that it meant anything to them. Darren squinted at the name, but he could not pick its origins.
“I saw Ser Darren after he set the First Man free. He came to me begging for help, likely because he knows how rich my father is.” He boasted, before continuing. “He revealed everything to me, and begged me to smuggle him out of the city. That’s when I had my guard knock him unconscious, and brought him to you, my Lord’s.” He announced with pride, a scheming grin spread across his lips.
“Lies.” The last witnessed hissed, stepping forward. “I’m not done yet!” Jorrhen screamed impatiently, but Roth lifted a hand to his whines. “Woman, step forward. Who are you?” He asked, and the armoured woman did as she was commanded.
“Tamarra of the Vale, my Lord. I was the one that brought Ser Darren back to Heart’s Home.” She revealed, and Darren’s attention focused onto her. She was beautiful, young, yet had the stern look of a warrior imprinted on her face. Darren chuckled quietly to himself, receiving a menacing glare from the guard beside him. “Proceed.” Roth ordered, and Tamarra nodded.
“I don’t know all that much. I’m a sellsword, and I was only stopped at a tavern here when I first saw Ser Darren. He disappeared upstairs under advisement by the bartender. I waited another half hour to see him brought back by a bulk of a man, who threw him in the ditch outside. I would have followed after him, had I not seen the state of the knight. I brought him to the castle. This can be confirmed by his majesty.” She claimed, putting emphasis on her words. Qyle awkwardly rearranged his seating, he had been awfully quiet this entire process.
“Thank you, Tamarra.” Lord Rogan smiled, and Tamarra nodded before joining the other witnesses. There was some discussion amongst the lords, discussion which built into restricted argument. The crowd did the same. Qyle shook his head.
“Enough!” He shouted, and instantly all eyes turned on him, and silence arrived quicker than usual. He sighed, rising from his chair. “If there is anything I’ve learnt from this testimony, it’s that we all know little.” Qyle claimed, and a soft murmur uttered amongst the crowd, words of disagreement and acknowledgement.
“So I suggest we hand Ser Darren over to those that do know the truth.” He stated, pointing his finger above him. “The gods.” He elaborated, and the murmurs grew louder. “Ser Darren, I am giving you the choice to choose your form of judgement. Would you prefer the septon’s judgement, or trial by combat?” He simply asked, and Darren took a moment to register the choices presented to him.
The judgement of seven septon’s would be an unbiased trial, and a trial before the gods, without the sights of men. Yet it came down to the septon’s, the men, to decide fate. However, perhaps that was better than risking it all in a trial by combat. Darren bit his lip, his chains rattling as he moved uneasily.
[Choose Trial by Combat] [Choose Septon’s Judgement]
Alright, it is save to say that I have not expected this. Jorrhen has previously stated that he wants Darren to work for him from now on, so I have not expected him to merely use him as a scapegoat now. This would make his previous action, where he met Darren, completely unnecessary, so I believe there still is more to this and that this is not all he wants Darren to do. It's likely just one move in his plan and I guess he sooner or later will offer Darren some way out, knowing that he can't refuse this offer. That way, he would get his scapegoat and a knight to do his wet work. However, the choice, while a brutal one, has come relatively easily for me this time.
[Choose Trial by Combat]
The thing is, choosing the Septon's Judgement would be putting Darren's fate into the hands of someone else. And as he said, it would be up to a man to decide his fate, a septon, who might not be unbiased. A septon can be bought, a septon can be intimidated and if there's anything I trust Jorrhen with, it's that he would do his utmost to make the Septon willing to decide in his favour. He probably wants Darren to do this, thinking that he won't risk the trial by combat, which I guess will go against his brutish bodyguard. However, I believe that Darren, a skilled knight, will be able to take on any man that bastard could send against him. I trust Darren's skills more than I trust the Septon's judgement.
The thing is, an unbiased septon would choose in favour of Darren, this is absolutely clear. Jorrhen just told a confirmed lie to the king and I am honestly a bit baffled that Qyle still even considers that this complete stranger tells the truth about a man he owes his life to. He claimed that he had brought Darren to the castle, whereas Tamarra has the king as her witness that she was the one to do it, so I have to wonder why anyone would still believe that lying rat. I mean, Qyle is not the most competent king, we know that already, but trusting a stranger without any hard evidence, who has told a confirmed lie to his face over his old friend, that's stark. That makes me even more convinced that there is no fair judgement for Darren if he chooses the Septon, because it is likely that Jorrhen has something on Qyle that makes him act in such a shockingly incompetent and stupid way. Most likely, he himself would make sure that the Septon is not unbiased and would decide in favour of Jorrhen's lie. One thing is for sure, Qyle just lost any right to have Darren's service and, frankly, I hope he is not going to survive this story. I say, let's choose the trial by combat, so that Darren can kill whomever is sent against him. Afterwards, he can kill Jorrhen, hopefully in the most horribly brutal way possible and then he can leave that pathetic excuse for a king and his moronic court to find a better ruler to serve, someone who doesn't actually throw old friends under the bus without any evidence.
[Choose Trial by Combat]
Well, this was interesting for sure. Anyway, I feel like Darren is better off trusting in his combat skills than putting his fate in the Septon's hands. I'm definitely interested to see how will this storyline continue.