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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Sept 2, 2023 20:00:50 GMT
The Voting is closed
Garthon is trying to sway Kyra
Maya is going to send Gregar with Taenora Those were reasonable options, all things considered. Irving wants to help, I don't think anybody doubts his intentions, but yeah, he doesn't exactly have the best track record, so I understand some reservations against him Meanwhile, Garthon's choice is an interesting one and the consequences coming from this will be even more interesting. We know that Kyra's loyalty to House Hoare is this really big thing standing between them, she is willing to bend her principles for her brother's sake, but so far not for Garthon's, whom she believes to be dead as most of her fellow Ironborn do. This very same loyalty does not extend to Harndon, however, whom she hates with a passion after he assaulted her in their youth, resulting in her fear of heights and his mental damage after the savage beating he received from Damon Greyjoy in return. As such, maybe Garthon has a chance here... maybe. Their potential reunion will be very intriguing to write about and I am looking forward for it! The next part will be out... right about now. I wrote a lot in the last few weeks, even as I began the second practical phase of my apprenticeship. This time, by the way, I am working at a ward specialized in vascular surgery and it is honestly super fascinating. The entire ward is amazing, the team is tremendous and has accepted me with open arms, the patients are diverse and, for the most part, very likeable and all things considered, I am extremely happy with how things are going. Unfortunately, I have worked without a single free day in the last three weeks, because I need to work a lot more hours in a lot less time for this part of my apprenticeship. Well, it is what it is. In two weeks, I will have three weeks of paid leave and as much as I am excited and happy to work at this ward, I must admit that I am looking forward for not having to get up at 4:30 in the morning for almost an entire month XD In any way, as I said above, I wrote as fast as I could in my spare time and I am excited to release the next part, because it is one of those I have really been looking forward for a long while now. It is an Edrick part. I said it before, I consider his storyline a highlight in this chapter and perhaps his next part will show you why. Last time we saw him was in a very difficult situation. He and his companions had made their way back to Faronhall alongside Sylvi Codd, with the goal to save their highborn companions and Sylvi's cousin Viveka. At the same time, Harmund Hoare arrived at the keep, a visit that had been a long time in the making. Harmund quickly revealed that he intends to punish Viveka for her failure of capturing the Riverborn, this mysterious rebel who had staged a humiliating, bloodless rebellion in this part of the Riverlands. Of course, you know that secretly the Riverborn is none other than Sylvi Codd herself, representing a new generation of Ironborn who were born and raised in the Riverlands and considered them a home more than the barren and distant Iron Islands. She had been using her resources and skills to inspire civil unrest among the smallfolk, seriously crippling the Ironborn presence in this part of the northern Riverlands and serving as an example for how even non-combatants among the Riverlanders could aid in the growing rebellion against the Ironborn. Is it naive what she's doing? Almost certainly, but she means well and up until now she had an impressive track record. Given how hard it has become for House Hoare to maintain control over their Riverlander subjects and unwilling to tolerate failure when dealing with the rebels, the king has given Harmund full authority to make an example of Viveka and her garrison. Paired with some personal hatred towards her, Harmund made full use of this, first using his authority to successfully demand entry into the keep, then openly threatening and insulting Viveka beneath her own roof, slowly trying to provoke her into making the first move, which would give him all the excuses he needs to kill her and every Codd soldier, servant and thrall within the walls of Faronhall, including Edrick's highborn companions, who had remained behind as hostages. While Darreth Kailen and Jorid Wolfborne, his lowborn companions, left to free the hostages from their rooms, Edrick accompanied Sylvi to the Great Hall, where the girl hopes to find an opening to save her sister. Unfortunately for her, she and Edrick both underestimated just how unhinged Harmund Hoare can be. In coming to the Great Hall, she gave him just another way of provoking Viveka and it culminated in him physically attacking her to get a reaction out of the Lady of Faronhall. This time, it would have worked for certain, but Edrick, in a desperate attempt at preventing the bloodshed, decided to intervene and hold her back even as Harmund had his hands around Sylvi's throat. We'll continue right there and the part will be posted within the next few minutes. I hope you enjoy it!
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Sept 2, 2023 20:11:41 GMT
Edrick “Don’t!”, Edrick growled into Viveka’s ear, as he held her back with all his might. She was strong, but he towered over most men and though it was not without effort, he managed to keep her from charging at Harmund. “That’s what he wants”, he added in a lower tone and he could tell from her frustrated grunt that deep down, she knew this. A smirk flashed across Harmund’s face, mild amusement bafflingly intermingled with obvious disappointment. He had been hoping for a more violent outcome to this, a chance to escalate things. It was all Edrick needed to know about his intentions. They had to get out of here, away from this monster who had come to Faronhall not to negotiate, but to punish. The crown prince was out for blood and as little as Edrick knew about him, his reputation preceded him by far. “Your thrall is a smart one”, Harmund chuckled. “Ah, shame. I have been hoping for a lovelier evening” With these words, he let go of Sylvi and the girl sank to the floor, coughing and grasping her throat. He stepped over her and past his guards and Edrick knew that the moment to take him hostage had passed, as he was now surrounded by his own men again. “But who knows? We only just arrived” By now, Viveka had calmed down again and Edrick could let go of her. She shot the prince a cold glare. “One wrong word and you will not be welcome at my halls any longer”, she hissed. “Your father will hear of this” Harmund’s smile grew colder and more genuine at the same time. “My father already knows”, he spoke. “Why do you think he sent me here? Father knows that sometimes my way of doing things is necessary, that sometimes this will achieve the best results. Well… not for you, of course, but for future generations of worthless Codd offspring, remembering always how Auntie Viveka failed them” “What are your demands?”, Viveka asked and Harmund shrugged. “First, I want your men disarmed”, he spoke at once. “Half of them will remain at Faronhall, the rest can go back to the barren rock your house calls home. My own men will replace them, led by a man of my choosing” He glanced around, before his gaze fell upon a tall, well-built man, an Ironborn if his facial features were any indicator, albeit his slightly bronze skin hinted at a mixed heritage. The man, clearly a higher-ranking officer, straightened his back and Edrick could see the anticipation in his gaze. “Rell, where is the Orkwood boy?”, Harmund asked and Edrick could see the man’s expression falling. “Outside, I wager”, he sighed. “He and his men chose not to enter the Great Hall, last I heard” Harmund narrowed his eyes. “Well, what are you standing around here for? Fetch him at once!” He shooed him away as one would do with a pesky dog, before turning back to Viveka. Edrick had met his fair share of monsters in his time. Harmund Hoare was as feral as a Skagosi cannibal chief, a bloodthirsty beast in human form. However, he managed to hide this deranged nature behind a handsome face and a touch of nobility, just enough to fool naive men, to inspire adoration with his superficial charms. But Edrick recognized how much the prince actually struggled with himself, struggling to hide the beast within. He had been hoping for an excuse, any excuse at all, but so far Viveka had given him none. For now, he was able to hold back, but he had clearly come for blood. “Alvarus Orkwood will become the steward of Faronhall”, he stated and his voice oozed reluctance at his own words. “Your family will continue to hold the land, but the keep and all wealth associated with it will fall to House Orkwood until the Riverborn hangs from the gibbet. Half of your men, as well as you yourself, will remain here, but not as lords of the keep, but as aides, utterly subservient to the Orkwood garrison. Do your duty well and perhaps the keep will be returned to you once that river-rat has been dealt with” Those words were reasonable, which clued Edrick in on the fact that they were not the prince’s own. Viveka clearly took note of the same and a cruel smirk flashed across her face. “Were those Prince Harrick’s orders? I recognize his words coming out of your mouth”, she chuckled. “Why, he always was the negotiator. Those are generous terms, more reasonable than I expected when I heard your father would send you to my halls” Her mocking tone was deeply unwise, but Edrick understood her frustration and anger. “Harrick does not command me!”, Harmund growled. “And if you want to accept those terms my father so graciously provided, then take them before I decide otherwise” His tone lowered into a growl now and Edrick could feel the hatred he had for this woman and her entire house. “What about my uncle?”, Viveka asked and Harmund shrugged. “He accepted those terms. An unfortunate illness of the stomach prevented him from joining us, but he’d have been a fool for not accepting them”, he explained. “If you defy these terms, you defy not only your king, but your lord and kin as well” Viveka still notably hesitated to lower her guard, a reasonable move considering whom she was up against. If she were to order her men to lay down their arms, they would be at Harmund’s mercy, a terrifying prospect. “I have to check in on him first”, Viveka offered. “I need to send a raven to Harrenhal and await a reply with his seal. Then, I will consider your terms” As expected, Harmund shook his head at once. “Who said you have any time to decide?”, he asked sharply. “Your future king gave you an order. Now follow it, or pay the price of your defiance” His tone was vicious and spiteful and Edrick knew that he would not hesitate to slaughter every man, woman and child in these walls as his father had done to its previous inhabitants. One way or the other, Edrick realized that Viveka had already made a grave mistake. She let this man into her halls and now she was left with the choice of either fighting him without the advantage of her keep or surrendering her arms and hoping for his mercy. And slowly, she came to the same conclusion. “Fuck…”, she mumbled and a brief, monstrous smile flashed across Harmund’s face. It was this one expression that showed Edrick what the prince truly wanted to do, what he would do the moment they would surrender. “Do you defy your king, Lady Viveka?”, he asked, as Viveka turned to Edrick. “Listen carefully”, she hissed, her tone barely more than a whisper. “You and your men need to get Sylvi out of here. I’ll stall him as long as I can, but swear to me that you will keep her safe” Edrick gave her a nod without hesitation. “By my honour”, he growled. It was not something he often swore on, but he was still a knight. His word meant something. And he knew, more than anything, that they would have to leave hastily. Sylvi’s plan to get her cousin out of Faronhall had failed, the girl had put herself into terrible danger and him alongside her. He could only hope that Jorid and Darreth had better luck getting to the rest of their companions, because he could not wait for them, not if he wanted to honour his promise and assure Sylvi’s safety. Satisfied by his words, Viveka turned back to Harmund, a sharp smile on her face. “Never would I dare”, she spoke. “If my king commands me, I will follow without question. Why don't we talk about the specifics of this deal over dinner?” Her words immediately eased the tension in the hall, but Edrick knew better than to calm down. He used this opportunity to slip back behind her guards, who had shielded Sylvi from Harmund’s men. The girl had recovered, though she was still breathing heavily and clutching her throat from where the prince had strangled her. As she looked at him with tired, tear-stained eyes, she knew at once what was going to happen. “No…”, she muttered weakly. “We have to get Viv. We need to get out of here, together” Edrick shut her up as he knelt down next to her. “We need to leave right fucking now”, he growled. “Unless you have a death wish” She hesitated for another second, before shaking her head. “Can we make it past them?”, she asked, her eyes darting around the hall. By now, Harmund’s men had surrounded Viveka’s almost completely. Almost being key here, for they both spotted one door, one that led deeper into the keep, which was still guarded by Viveka’s men. It was not ideal, but then again, none of it was. They hurried past the soldiers and towards the door. Harmund was momentarily distracted by Viveka, as the woman began to talk almost casually with him, her fake friendliness completely catching him off guard. Edrick placed one arm around the girl’s shoulders, keeping her close and shielding her from anyone who might get in their way. He could feel her trembling in his grip and he himself felt a nervous lump in his throat that got only worse with each step. Hundreds of eyes were watching them, Viveka’s men mostly, but some of Harmunds for certain. Only one of them had to open their mouths, had to shout out for the prince to take not of them. In that case, he feared, none of them would leave the keep alive. Step by step, they neared the door and one of Viveka’s men nearby was actually attentive enough to open it slightly for them. Once through, Edrick would hurry, carrying the girl with him if he had to. He could not wait for Darreth and Jorid and the others, he had to hurry or else Harmund would kill them all. As such, he fastened his pace as much as he could without alerting the prince or his men, placing one hand on Sylvi’s back to push her with him. She followed obediently, but with a grim expression on her face. He knew this was not what she had wanted, he could see the fear in her eyes and the concern for her cousin. And yet, the few moments she had spent in Harmund’s company had been enough for her. He could see that right now, fear for her own life outweighed fear for Viveka’s and he could not blame her. Even he, battle-hardened and tempered as he was, felt a sting of fear now that he had to deal with a truly unpredictable monster. Finally, they had reached the door. Edrick pushed Sylvi through first, before he followed, the man next to it moving in to close it behind them. He saw the silent plea in the guard’s eyes, knowing that he had to get the girl out of there. As such, the moment they had left Harmund’s field of view, he allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief. The air here was cooler, not stuffed with the stench of three hundred men and the palpable aura of dread that seemed to surround the crown prince. The voices in the hall had grown more quiet, finally being no more than mere murmuring somewhere behind them, as Edrick and Sylvi hurried through the hallway. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now. “Viveka…”, she mumbled, her voice still stressed from her earlier encounter with Harmund. “We need to do something, we can't just leave her…” But her earlier conviction had faltered. She was, after all, no warrior. Edrick could sympathize with her, but she had been naive. Her little acts of rebellion had been somewhat doable back when she only had her cousin to worry about, a woman who, by all accounts, had done too little to flush out this insurrection. Now, the king had sent his personal attack dog and the message was clear. Rebellion in these lands would no longer be tolerated. Now, the people of these lands had no need for peaceful, well-intentioned unrest, but for swords and axes. It seemed that she had come to the same realization. “Your cousin is strong. She’ll manage”, he growled, even though he knew that once Harmund would stop toying with them, Viveka would almost certainly die. Perhaps he could spare Sylvi that truth, if only for another few hours. He needed her calm now, functional. He needed her to run, because at the very end of it, that was perhaps her only chance of getting out of this keep and out of these lands alive. Somewhere in front of them, Edrick heard something. A muffled scream, followed by a loud thud. Then, something fell down the flight of stairs in front of them. It was the body of a soldier, one of Harmund’s men judging by the colours. His throat had been cut and he was still gargling on his own blood, his eyes staring up at Edrick, pleadingly. As the knight glared up the stairs, he saw Darreth Kailen limping down, a blood-stained knife in one hand. Behind him was the rest of them, Dante Karstark, Reymond Mormont, Alphyn Frostborn and then, at last, Jorid, each armed with swords and shields, though none of them were wearing any armour. “Ser Edrick!”, Dante exclaimed, as he rushed past his squire. “Thank the Seven you are here. We need to get out of here, right now!” Edrick gave him a grim nod, though he accepted the younger knight’s firm handshake. “Tell me something I don’t know already”, he sighed. “Trying to get Lady Viveka out of there has been a disaster. The prince has come here to spill blood. Viveka’s stalling him to give us a chance, but the moment he notices Sylvi is gone, he will know what is up” This brought a frown to Reymond’s face and the young woman glanced past Edrick, to the far end of the hallway, where Viveka’s men had closed and hopefully blocked the door. “She doesn’t deserve this…”, she sighed and Edrick shook his head. “Sure doesn’t”, he growled. “But we need to be pragmatic now. We’re barely armed, injured and exhausted. We need to get out of here while we still can” “Hate to say it, but he’s right”, Alphyn interjected. “It’s been a mess up there. The prince’s men are everywhere. One of them grew suspicious, so Darreth had to kill him. We hid him well, but it’ll be only a matter of time until all hell breaks loose” Edrick glanced at the squire’s blood-stained dagger and he knew at once that he should have been there. Darreth lacked experience, especially when it came to such danger and squiring for a knight as unusually mellow as Dante certainly did not help with preparing him. He was not ready. “Let’s just get the hells out of here…”, Edrick growled, pushing his companions to the end of the hallway. Though he was not all too familiar with the layout of Faronhall, this would lead them farther away from Harmund and right now, that was all he wanted. Besides, if his sense of direction did not fail him, this would lead them alongside the keep’s northern wall, the one they had used to escape once before, however brief their flight had been. “I’m sorry, Ser”, Darreth sighed. “I should have kept my cool. I compromised our cover” Edrick shook his head, concern for all their lives outweighing any anger he could have felt. “You got them all out”, he growled. “That’s what matters, for now” He looked at the others. “You alright, lads?”, he asked, before glancing at Reymond. “Lass?” The woman shook her head. “Hardly, Ser”, she spoke plainly. “I am not happy with this course of action. Sneaking away like thieves in the night… The Lady Viveka treated us fairly according to the laws of these lands. We shouldn’t just leave her to the wolves” This brought a thin sneer to Alphyn’s face. “Treated you fairly, mylady”, he hissed. “Edrick got a taste of her hound’s leash instead. Besides, she brought this onto herself. If my father’s lands were plagued by a rebel, I would have already hunted them down. Prince Harmund might be out of control, but his father was right with undertaking harsher measures” Though Edrick knew Alphyn as a direct and harsh man, his careless choice of words in front of Sylvi clued him in on the fact that Darreth and Jorid had both kept the girl’s secret. For now, he would do the same, but in due time she had a lot to explain, this well-meaning but naive child who had dared to challenge her king. “Must I remind you that we’re caught in the middle of his harsher measures?”, Edrick sighed, as he picked up the pace. “Hurry along now. I want to be out of here before the prince takes note of our absence” The others followed obediently, even Sylvi, though the girl barely hid her tears. “We’ll… we’ll get out of here if we just follow the wall…”, she stuttered. “We’ll get to the courtyard that way. The guards at the gates, they are still loyal to my cousin. They gotta be. We can get out the way we came in” “If I were Harmund, I’d take the gates first…”, Dante brought up, his voice surprisingly calm for the danger they found themselves in. “Is there any other way out of the keep?” He gave Sylvi an inquisitive glare and though Edrick was certain no one had told him about Sylvi’s secret, his gaze made it clear that he suspected something. He was, at the least, not easily fooled. “Let me think...” Sylvi began. “There might be, but I don’t know if we can get there in time” As if to answer to her unspoken words, Edrick heard something far behind them, in the Great Hall they had just so thankfully left behind. Swords were drawn somewhere behind the thick door, lots of them. Then, shouting and clashing of steel and the screams of dying men. No words were needed, as Edrick’s group immediately began to run. It seemed that negotiations had failed at last. Soon, similar sounds erupted all around them, as the entire keep seemed to fall to bloodshed. It wasn’t long until they reached the courtyard through a small side door, only to realize the full horror of their situation. On one order, Harmund’s men had descended upon Viveka’s soldiers like rabid dogs. Ironborn fought against Ironborn as the entire courtyard had erupted into chaos in mere moments. The doors to the Great Hall had been pushed open and the fighting was spilling out of it. With how charged the entire place had been after Harmund’s arrival, it was no surprise to Edrick how swiftly everything had erupted into violence. At first, it was pure chaos. Edrick, who had taken the lead, stopped at the doorframe, trying to get an overview of the sheer violence around him. The Codd men were barely distinguishable from the Hoare soldiers, only some of them wearing a tabard with the black and white of their house, while Harmund’s men might have been sellswords as well, clad only in leather and mail armour, even fewer of them displaying the intricate sigil of their house. The prince had a handful of knights in his retinue, but they were rare among the Ironborn already and House Codd had, to Edrick’s knowledge, none among their ranks. As such, they were not only outnumbered, but outmatched as well, taken by surprise in their own keep. And yet, they were fighting like lions, near the Great Hall, at the stables and especially at the gate, which was held by a brave retinue of Codd men. They kept it open while the servants and other smallfolk made a run for it. Quite a number of them seemed to have managed to escape, but the Hoare soldiers were butchering all who did not. Just a few feet away from Edrick, an older man was run through by a spear, while on the other end of the courtyard, two girls were cornered by a few Ironborn. The older one of them was armed with a knife and even took a swing at a sneering man in front of her. She received a brutal strike in return that nearly took her entire head off. She was left to bleed out in the dirt, while the younger girl was dragged away, screaming and kicking. “Seven have mercy…”, Sylvi gasped behind him, but Edrick shook his head. “Clearly they have none”, he growled. “Not today. Come now. We need to get to the gate” This was easier said than done, because from their position they had to cross nearly half of the courtyard, past a large number of fighters from both sides. It was in this moment that one of Harmund’s men, the one who had killed the old servant just moments earlier, took note of them. He raised his spear and in an instant he charged at Edrick, who had just left the building, his companions in tow. More Ironborn followed a few feet behind him, each armed and clad in light armour, a severe advantage over the entirely unarmed Edrick. “Watch out!”, Jorid roared behind him, as he pushed himself past the knight, his shield blocking the incoming spear. He made short work of the enemy soldier, felling him with one strike of his blade, but another took his place almost immediately. This time, it was Reymond who stepped in, her sword finding an opening and digging into a weak spot beneath the man’s arm. Edrick himself wasted no time as he grabbed the spear from the lifeless hands of the man who had attacked Jorid. Shielded by his companions, he thrusted the weapon forth, the tip piercing an enemy soldier’s throat. This was not his favoured weapon, but it’d be good enough for now, as more and more of Harmund’s men took note of their group. Though they were each without armour and, in Sylvi’s case, entirely unarmed, Edrick knew that a common Ironborn footsoldier would be no match for any of them, for they were Northerners, castle-trained and ready for combat. Alphyn and Darreth rushed past Edrick, taking the lead now, while Jorid and Reymond guarded their rear. Edrick himself, as well as Dante, took Sylvi in their midst, shielding the girl as they hurried towards the gate in a loose formation. By now, they were engulfed by the chaos around them. Harmund’s men attacked indiscriminately, for them it did not matter if the target was one of Viveka’s soldiers, a servant or even Edrick’s group. “Press on!”, Edrick roared. In front of him, Alphyn rammed his blade into an Ironborn’s throat. Darreth was locked in combat with another man, whose fierce attacks forced him into the defensive. Immediately, Dante intervened and with surprising precision he drove his short blade into the attacker’s flank. This gave Darreth an opening to push forward and he was the first of their companions to reach the gate, briefly aiding the massively outnumbered Codd soldiers who were still fighting there. A pained grunt sounded behind him and as Edrick glanced over his shoulder, he saw Jorid staggering backwards, one hand pressed against his side. His opponent, a large soldier armed with a mace, had gotten a good hit in, having first shattered the Northman’s shield, followed by a second one that had likely broken his ribs. Before he could finish him off, Edrick was there. He parried the mace with his sword and the blow was heavy enough to make even him tremble. Next to him, Jorid staggered to his knees, his eyes wide with pain. Edrick let out a roar of fury, as he pushed towards his opponent. The Ironborn was strong, but he lacked finesse and his attempt to parry Edrick’s next strike with his mace, the weapon notably lacking a crossguard, cost him three fingers, as the knight deliberately targeted the man’s hand. As the Ironborn howled in pain, Edrick wasted no time cleaving his head in two. “You alright?”, he growled at Jorid, who gave him a pained, notably dazed nod. Under different circumstances, Edrick would have helped him up right now, but he had to focus on his opponents, as two Ironborn charged him at once, both armed with crude short swords. Usually, he’d just take one hit, trusting in his sturdy armour, but right now he painfully felt its absence, as he parried the first strike while frantically turning to evade the second. Fighting two enemies at once was a pain at the best of times and right now he was hard pressed for time. The second opponent slashed at him, but before Edrick could even try to block the strike, Jorid lifted himself up from the ground, despite the clear agony he had to be in. With a groan of pain, he parried the attack, but in doing so, he left himself open from the side. A third Ironborn was charging at him from there, far out of Edrick’s reach, armed with a halberd. Jorid had to know what was coming, he knew it was too late to evade the strike and so was Edrick. Instead, the Northerner used his last strength to impale the man whose attack he had just parried, before jumping between Edrick and the lowered halberd. The sharp end of the weapon found its way into his upper chest with a sickening wet sound and Jorid staggered backwards, the tip of the halberd leaving his body through the back. “NO!”, Edrick roared, but he did not hesitate even for a moment to block the next strike by the man with the sword, cleaving his head in half with his own counterattack. The Ironborn with the halberd pulled the weapon out of Jorid’s chest and the Northerner staggered against Edrick, his own sword still raised, before he dropped to his knees, allowing Edrick to parry the second thrust of the halberd with his sword. He rushed past the dying Jorid before the Ironborn could recover, crossing the distance between them in just a second. His opponent’s eyes widened a moment before Edrick’s sword opened his throat and he fell backwards, the bloodied halberd slipping from his grasp. With a heavy breath, Edrick glanced at Jorid, knowing exactly what he’d see. And sure enough, his brief companion was lying there on the ground, his dead eyes staring skywards, a thin line of blood running from his mouth. Though Edrick had not known him for long, he had considered Jorid a good man, if a stubborn one as well. It was a fine quality back home, but here it only brought his undoing. Hells, they were all stubborn as him and if he was not careful, most of them would follow him to an early grave. With Jorid gone, he and Reymond now formed the last line of defence against Harmund’s forces, who were gaining more and more ground on the courtyard. “Edrick!”, Alphyn shouted over the deafening noise of the battle. Edrick glanced over his shoulder and to his relief, he saw that most of his companions had made it through the gate. Dante had dragged Sylvi with him, defended by Darreth, while Alphyn had carved a path for them. Only Edrick himself and Reymond remained within the walls of Faronhall, but their chances of escaping grew thinner by the minute. Another man charged at him, only to find a swift end, as Edrick impaled him through the stomach. “Fuck…”, Reymond exclaimed, her eyes wide as she watched the carnage in front of her. “You need to go… go!” A new wave of Ironborn was charging towards them, their path partially blocked by a few Codd soldiers who just now stormed out of the nearby barracks. There were too few of them, far too few. And behind Edrick and Reymond, another group of Hoare soldiers was just about to overrun the few soldiers left at the gates. Alphyn and the rest of their companions had vanished out of sight and he did not blame them. And then he saw him. Harmund Hoare marched across the courtyard with gleeful purpose in each step. His sword was bloodied, as was his leather chestpiece and the fur cloak he wore, but his eyes were the reddest of them all, gleaming with crimson madness. He had dropped every pretense of being a civil man, of being a man at all indeed, as he revealed his true, monstrous nature with every new strike of his blade, felling foe after foe. And yet, Edrick immediately took note of one thing as he briefly observed Harmund Hoare in the brief moments of respite whenever he had killed an enemy soldier. The prince’s opponents were mostly injured, tired and scared. They were common soldiers or even smallfolk who had picked up weapons, while Harmund himself was the son of a king, trained by Harrenhal’s master-at-arms from an early age. His sword was fine steel, his armour the sturdiest leather one could buy and his upbringing had secured him a tall, well-fed build with plenty of muscle. He was taller, stronger, better trained and more well-equipped and yet, Edrick knew that he was picking his opponents carefully. His swings were not the precise swings of a skilled warrior, but those of a butcher who relished in terrifying his weaker opponents, in hurting and maiming them instead of eliminating them as swiftly as possible. No training in the world could hide his lack of innate talent. It was in this moment that a horn signal sounded from somewhere behind the prince, from the Great Hall. A second later, Codd soldiers stormed forth from the gaping darkness and to Edrick’s surprise, they were lead by Viveka. She was covered in blood, some of it clearly hers, but she remained unbroken. Armed with a spear in one hand and a net in the other, she was a force of nature and a sight that inspired hope in her soldiers. The contrast to the solitary crown prince, whose own men seemed to avoid him in this combat as much as possible, could not be clearer. With one skilled thrust, Viveka impaled the first man who charged at her, before throwing the net at the next. As the man stumbled to the ground, entirely tangled within the mass of ropes, she finished him off with a quick thrust into his throat. Her charge caught the Hoare men by surprise and though still outnumbered, the sheer ferocity of her soldiers got them to gain some decent ground, taking the steps of the Great Hall and forcing the enemy to hastily regroup in the central courtyard, now forced into smaller skirmishes with the surviving defenders on all sides. The Lady of Faronhall led the charge personally and her target was clear. Harmund Hoare had just finished off another soldier when he noticed her charging at his men, but several sturdy soldiers intervened in time, cutting her off from him. Nonetheless, the prince’s bravado faltered as he saw her there, the smirk momentarily wiped from his face and replaced by a deep, livid anger. He staggered behind his first line of defence, then the second, until only a handful of men separated him from the other end of the courtyard, where Edrick and a few remaining Codd soldiers were fighting a loosing battle, trying to retreat to the courtyard. “Go!”, Reymond yelled again, as she charged at half a dozen Ironborn men who were about to swarm them, driving them back for just a moment with her sheer ferocity. “You must escape!” She was right, of course and Edrick knew that his window of getting through the gate was getting smaller with each passing second. Perhaps it was already gone, for the Codd men who still held it were just about to get overwhelmed. Already, some of Harmund’s men stormed the gatehouse with clear intentions of lowering the portcullis, trapping the entire rest of Viveka’s men within their own keep, which had become a death trap now that it was swarming with Hoare soldiers. Not even the surprisingly efficient counter-attack led by Viveka could hide the fact that few of them would make it out of here alive. “Here We Stand!”, Reymond yelled at the top of her lungs, as she felled another foe with a single strike of her sword. “Here, we shall die! Come and take us if you dare!” With her free arm, she caught a man’s wrist and stopping his strike dead in its tracks, finishing him off by driving the sharp edge of her sword into his face. With one wide arch she drove two men back, but a third got through her defences. She barely managed to avoid what would have been a lethal thrust by shifting her body to the side, but the jagged blade still grazed her side. A gasp of pain left her throat, as her sword came down, severing the attacker’s arm at the elbow. By the Old Gods and the New, she was good. Likely the best of them, Edrick had to admit it, even now as he was fighting for his life. But she was still outnumbered greatly and her injury slowed her down. By now, Edrick himself was fighting for his dear life. Another Ironborn charged at him and he knew, if he would not finish this man quickly, a second would come and then a third. Though Harmund had rallied his men to push against Viveka’s counter-attack, those of his men who guarded his rear were left without effective leadership and they were charging headlessly at the outnumbered Codd soldiers, alongside whom Edrick and Reymond now fought. The gate was nearly taken and still Edrick had not broken through, with Ironborn attacking him from all sides now. The rest of his companions had made it through, however, and that was a relief. He had lost count how many men he had killed today. A dozen? More perhaps… to him, they were faceless, featureless beings, mere shadows who swung their swords at him. All that was missing was bloody paint dripping from their faces and teeth filed sharp, snarling and hissing as the cannibals of Skagos had done. He had survived them and he would survive these lesser foes. Another man charged him, this time immediately followed by a second and a third. Edrick parried the first strike with his blade and dodged the second, while delivering a brutal blow with his fist into the man’s stomach, hard enough to send him tumbling backwards. The third, however used this opportunity to attack. With wide eyes, Edrick raised his sword to meet the strike, only to notice that halfway through with it, his opponent’s eyes widened madly and his attack, at first delivered with full force, seemed to loose all of its strength. Then, before Edrick could do anything, the man staggered forwards, the sword falling from his grip. An arrow struck from his throat, fired from the walls far behind him, from a vantage point above the stables. Edrick could see a figure there, one readying another arrow and even in this carnage around him he recognized Leo York. This actually stunned him for a second. Leo was there, aiming his arrows but not at him, but at his enemies. The young man nocked another arrow, this time shifting his focus to the side, firing another arrow at a man Edrick hadn’t even noticed, one of the few that still stood between him and the gate. The portcullis was still up, but how it would stay this way he could not tell. He noticed that Leo had opened him a path, given him a chance to escape. Only a handful of men remained and their attention was split between the few Codd soldiers who still fought at the gate and the archer who fired arrows at them. One charge was all it took, one charge and he was free. Behind the gate, the nearby forest beckoned, promising safety from the slaughter that took place in this keep. Behind him, Reymond was surrounded. She fought like the bear on the banners of her house, a large, terrifying force of nature, but she was hunted down like a bear as well, not killed by a single strike, but slowly worn down and tired out. She was panting already, bleeding from several smaller cuts and her movement became faster, less precise and more panicked. She was fighting for her life. She would die here unless Edrick would come to her aid, squandering what little chance Leo had just opened for him. Perhaps they’d both die then. And then, he saw a third opportunity, one almost too tempting to pass up on. Viveka Codd was still charging at Harmund, her spear coldly decimating his men with precise thrusts and slices. Under any other circumstance it would have been a reckless thing to do, but he knew that Viveka was anything but. This was her only chance, however slim. Her men were dying left and right, dying to protect her, dying to cut a path to the prince, who was frantically backing away from her, more and more of his men throwing themselves into her path. And by doing so, she drove the prince closer and closer towards Edrick. Instead of saving his companion or saving his own life, he could end it all. All things considered, the crown prince was not a particularly skilled fighter. He would not last long against Edrick. It was a small chance, miniscule even, but so was getting out of here alive. And so, Edrick was left with a terrible decision. His own life, a chance to save Reymond or, perhaps, a chance at killing the monster responsible for all of this. His fingers tightened around his sword, as he made his choice… [Help Reymond] [Attack Harmund] [Rush towards the gate]
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Post by drdestroyer18 on Sept 3, 2023 10:39:20 GMT
[Help Reymond]
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Post by ResidentLychee on Sept 4, 2023 9:31:39 GMT
[Rush towards the gate]
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Post by GMS Freeman on Sept 9, 2023 12:03:08 GMT
[Attack Harmund]
(EDITED)
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Post by diversegnu on Sept 16, 2023 23:36:49 GMT
[Attack Harmund]
We cannot pass up a chance to kill Harmund Hoare, no matter how unfavorable the odds are.
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Post by InGenNateKenny on Sept 26, 2023 3:55:04 GMT
[Attack Harmund] Drums up let's do this. LEEROY JENKINS!!! Shades of shooting at the good king Harren. Is this a bad idea? Yes! Will we fail? Probably. Will we make for an entertaining part? Yes! And if we can help Liquid kill more characters we can make his life maybe easier.
That's nasty. RIP Jorid.
I did not expect it to get so violent so quickly. I was just thinking 'okay, tense meeting, crisis defused' and then the fighting started. Brutal. It's been a while since we lost a character. I can see why you were looking forward to this part.
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Talia
New Member
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Post by Talia on Nov 23, 2023 16:46:56 GMT
I am reading book 2, chapter 2, and I feel these lyrics are appropriate:
Mark my words, one day, you will pay, you will pay Karma's gonna come and collect your debt
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Dec 23, 2023 22:00:28 GMT
[Attack Harmund] We cannot pass up a chance to kill Harmund Hoare, no matter how unfavorable the odds are. The odds might not be as bad as you'd think. As per Edrick's opinion, he is the better fighter, Harmund is not paying any attention to him and there is Leo to back him up if things don't work out quite as well. Of course, this option won't exactly help with keeping Edrick alive, but there might be a reasonable chance to take Harmund out of the equation.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Dec 23, 2023 22:18:25 GMT
[Attack Harmund] Drums up let's do this. LEEROY JENKINS!!! Shades of shooting at the good king Harren. Is this a bad idea? Yes! Will we fail? Probably. Will we make for an entertaining part? Yes! And if we can help Liquid kill more characters we can make his life maybe easier. That's nasty. RIP Jorid. I did not expect it to get so violent so quickly. I was just thinking 'okay, tense meeting, crisis defused' and then the fighting started. Brutal. It's been a while since we lost a character. I can see why you were looking forward to this part. That much is for certain. While I am sad for any character that is killed off before they reach their potential, truth be told every dead character will make things easier, especially dead PoV characters. A good thing that Book 2 in general will be quite brutal in these regards. In Book 1 I didn't kill off any PoV character before the very end, but Book 2 will see them die far more often and more evenly spread out, including a couple who will definitely be missed. And that, in turn, means that the surviving PoV characters get more spotlight, of course, which is never a bad thing. And Jorid won't be the last either. I think I've said it before, this chapter will be brutal, with a body count not seen since the Raid on Raylansfair all the way back in Book 1. After so long without killing off a character (though the work and life related breaks I currently have to take between each parts certainly did not help), it felt odd at first and I found myself wanting to give Jorid a grander send-off than what would make sense narratively (where I was aiming for a quick, brutal death), but I think I found a good balance. But let me just say, I am quite looking forward for the later parts of this chapter, especially the chapter finale, because it is quite likely going to be my personal favourite since the Book 1 Chapter 7 finale.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Dec 23, 2023 22:40:30 GMT
I am reading book 2, chapter 2, and I feel these lyrics are appropriate: Mark my words, one day, you will pay, you will pay Karma's gonna come and collect your debt Very appropriate indeed. In contrast to what I said to InGen above, there are certain characters whom I actively yearn to kill off. Unfortunately, most of them still have a role to fulfil in the story and more stuff to do (and at least one character has a pretty good chance of surviving the entire story even though I am certain everyone actively wants them dead), but there should be some VERY satisfying deaths coming up in time
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Talia
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Post by Talia on Dec 23, 2023 23:07:48 GMT
I am reading book 2, chapter 2, and I feel these lyrics are appropriate: Mark my words, one day, you will pay, you will pay Karma's gonna come and collect your debt Very appropriate indeed. In contrast to what I said to InGen above, there are certain characters whom I actively yearn to kill off. Unfortunately, most of them still have a role to fulfil in the story and more stuff to do (and at least one character has a pretty good chance of surviving the entire story even though I am certain everyone actively wants them dead), but there should be some VERY satisfying deaths coming up in time Is it the person I talked about in the PMs? Cause if he survives the whole thing, I am gonna be so mad...and so will everyone else, as you said.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Dec 23, 2023 23:26:17 GMT
The Voting is closed
Edrick is going to attack Harmund Hoare That part took me forever to write. I had to take a work-related break for my sanity, because I was sent to work on a palliative care ward for the last two months. And let me just say, that was not my favourite ward by any means. Being surrounded by dozens of actively dying people, especially given how I approach my work (which is very focussed on the patients needs) was physically and mentally exhausting and I spent most of my days working, then immediately falling asleep once I got home. Between those shifts, I got some writing done, but not as quickly as I wanted to. Regardless, I have finally finished the part, which is a notably calmer one than the last one. This next part will be a Drent part, continuing right after we last saw him. Back then, Drent had a private audience with the Storm King, who greeted him in a surprisingly informal manner. Just before that, Drent overheard an argument between Argilac and Argella, which left the princess very agitated. As it turns out, Argilac has received word from Bernard Buckler, the new Lord of Bronzegate about his deeds at Bronzegate, but also from Warrick Fell, whom Drent targeted and defeated on Argella's orders during the king's tourney, the one that was originally meant for Warrick and his companions to prove their worth as suitors for the Storm Princess. As you might remember, Warrick previously figured out that Drent targeted him on purpose and his letter was appropriately scathing. That being said, Argilac mostly cared for Bernard's letter, which came with a glowing review for Drent's deeds in Bronzegate. As such, Argilac wasted no time and knighted Drent on the spot. This promotion came not only with honours, however, but also with new duties, including Drent having to take over his own unit, which has previously been led by Jax Montclair. His first order was to gather his men come morning and lead them to the Dornish Marches. There, Drent is supposed to aid Argilac's border garrison, led by a certain Symond Brownwell. As the king explained, he wishes to achieve quick military successed against the Dornishmen, which he wants to use to broker a brief peace, which would allow him to focus his entire attention towards the Targaryen incursion that threatens his lands from the north. For this, he has chosen Drent's unit, which has proven itself in Raylansfair and Bronzegate. However, for this night he has given Drent a bit of respite, with the advice that he might do well seeking advice on the topic of knighthood from one of his seniors, namely Emphryus Dresfel. Drent decided to follow this advice, so the next part will begin as he arrives at the Great Hall, where a feast for the victors of Bronzegate is currently taking place.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Dec 23, 2023 23:38:49 GMT
Very appropriate indeed. In contrast to what I said to InGen above, there are certain characters whom I actively yearn to kill off. Unfortunately, most of them still have a role to fulfil in the story and more stuff to do (and at least one character has a pretty good chance of surviving the entire story even though I am certain everyone actively wants them dead), but there should be some VERY satisfying deaths coming up in time Is it the person I talked about in the PMs? Cause if he survives the whole thing, I am gonna be so mad...and so will everyone else, as you said. Oh, I cannot say anything on that, of course, but let it be said that I believe that every character who survives the story will receive an ending that should feel satisfying for the readers. I already got a few epilogue parts planned out and while I could be mistaken, I don't think that after reading them anyone will be disappointed in the surviving characters' fates or wish that they'd have died instead With that said, there are certainly a few characters whose ultimate fate might come as a surprise to you.
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Talia
New Member
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Post by Talia on Dec 24, 2023 0:13:33 GMT
He'll survive, I take it? Well, here's what all those he's hurt have to say about that
Then again, life in general is not fair.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Dec 24, 2023 0:18:00 GMT
Drent Drent was still trembling when he entered the Great Hall again. In his absence, the festivities had continued, with soldiers all around him being merry, enjoying the feast, laughing and drinking and dining. His first gaze fell upon Torrence and Edonia, who were sitting with a few of the others. The latter spotted him and waved him over, but he only gave her a nod, no smile reaching his face, as his gaze continued to wander. He would join them in time, but not yet. No, he was not their comrade anymore and as such, he had a different duty now. At the high table, Ser Baron Schodek, who had command over the hall itself in the king’s absence, was chatting with an unusually cheery Maester Qoherys, who was deep into what was clearly not his first tankard. The Valyrian was grinning from ear to ear as he presented the impressive muscles of his bare upper arm, much to the knight’s amusement. Behind them, Landry Swann was one of the few men still alert, clad in full armour and presenting his greatsword. Neither Argilac nor Argella were present, but the captain of the king’s guard took his duties ever seriously. After a few moments, Drent spotted the man he wanted to talk to. Ser Emphryus Dresfel was sitting near one of the fireplaces, a bowl of mutton on his lap. Beric Storm, the Bastard of Blackhaven, was sitting next to him, but they barely talked to each other. Emphryus’ sword, the one the Storm King had used to sever the Targaryen ambassador’s hands in this very hall all those months ago, was leaning next to its owner, the plain scabbard a sharp contrast to the fine blade it held. Drent had nearly reached the two when Emphryus glanced up from his seat. “Ser Drent”, he greeted him, to Drent’s surprise. Beric Storm raised one eyebrow, but remained silent, as Drent glanced down at his trembling hands. A smirk appeared on the older knight’s face, as he moved to the side, allowing Drent to sit next to him on the bench. “You… knew?”, Drent finally asked and Emphryus gave him a calm nod. “Who do you think the Storm King asked first when he contemplated his decision?”, he asked. “Argella petitioned your knighthood quite vehemently, you should know, after your little show at the tourney” He narrowed his eyes and Drent felt heat rising in his cheeks. “She did…”, he mumbled. “She didn’t tell you, huh?”, Emphryus replied. “I ain’t surprised. Her father shut her down of course and rightfully so. You were a commoner who got lucky. Not knightly material. Not yet. Not until Bronzegate” He stared into the fire again and his gaze darkened. “Lord Buckler was a damn fine man. Harsh, yes, but all the good men are. I am proud to have called him friend”, he spoke. “You saved his son’s life that day. Had the king not decided to knight you, I would have done it myself” “And yet…”, Drent began, before he took a deep breath. “I can’t help but wonder… what if I still just got lucky? Had Jax not chosen me to accompany you to Raylansfair all those months ago, I would still be no more than the rest of them” To this, Emphryus shook his head almost immediately. “You served the princess well in Raylansfair. That was duty. You fought well in the tourney. That was skill. You saved Bernard Buckler’s life against that silver brute. That was bravery. If that doesn’t qualify you, then what does? You got a chance to prove yourself and you rose to the occasion. So, never doubt yourself again, for I certainly won’t” This was the highest praise Drent had ever heard from the knight and his heart beat faster at hearing it. “I… thank you, Ser”, he mumbled. “So, what happens next? We’re equals now, aren’t we?” Emphryus’ smile grew only marginally thinner. “In rank, yes”, he admitted. “But every single knight in this room has been trained by a skilled master-at-arms from an early age. Even the weakest of them would humiliate you in a fight and when it comes to a fight, I have no equal” “What about Ser Landry?”, Beric Storm interjected from the other side, earning himself a stern glare from the other knight. “He’d sing you a different song, but we both know I am better”, he claimed. “I could have proved as much at the tourney, if not for my injuries. Alas, he won’t be as lucky next time” He shook his head, before looking back at Drent. “You will have to overcome some issues. Most of the knights at court are highborn, all of them are Stormlanders. You are neither and they will judge you for it. The fact that any knight in this room could take you with ease doesn’t make things any better” “So, what are you suggesting then?”, Drent asked, to which Emphryus gave him a long look. “Screw them”, he spoke. “Do your duty and do it well. In time, they will be silenced. You served the princess well in Raylansfair and me in Bronzegate. I hope that this time, you can prove yourself to the king as well. I believe he gave you your first duty already?” To this, Drent gave him a nod. “He sends me to the Marches”, he sighed. “I understand his reasoning, but still… I was hoping I could remain at court for a little while longer. I know I wasn’t born here, but in the past few years, I have come to consider this place home” Emphryus smirked, but the expression remained cold and did not reach his eyes. “As I said… do your duty, Ser Drent”, he growled. “No hesitation, no complaint. The king needs men like you in the Marches, to end a war that has dragged on for too long” This came as a small surprise to Drent and he raised his eyebrows. “I thought you of all people would approve of the Dornish War”, he spoke. Emphryus was quiet for a moment, before he shook his head. “I used to”, he admitted. “But there is no honour to be found in Dorne. They know they cannot win against the Durrandon army, so they ambush us, they attack with poison and disease. Many good men died without glory to these cowards. Now that there’s a greater war on the horizon, I find myself less eager to fight the Dornish. Besides, that new maester made a surprisingly good plea for peace” “Qoherys put the king up to this?”, Drent asked, which received a nod from the other knight. “Aye. Wasn’t too sure about the Valyrian at first, but he’s a decent man. I find myself agreeing with him more often than not. Besides, he is a warrior at heart, not one of those bookish weaklings from the Citadel”, Emphryus explained. “When he argued for peace, the king was furious at first and threw him out of the room. But that’s just who he is, our king. After calming down, he realized that Qoherys was right. We cannot fight a war on two fronts” Reluctantly, Drent had to agree. He would have supported this wholeheartedly if not for the fact that he was the one who had to travel to the Marches. It was a selfish notion, but Drent had no intention of hiding it. “It is for the better”, he admitted. “And I will not disappoint our king” To this, Emphryus replied with a surprisingly cordial grin. “I know you won’t”, he confirmed. Almost immediately after these friendly words, his expression grew serious again. “Though a word of advice, Ser Drent”, her growled and his tone was once more as Drent was used to from him, a gruff and stern snarl. “You should keep a certain decorum when around the princess. Nobody expects manners from a soldier, but even then word of you spending an unseemly amount of time around her has raised more than a few eyebrows. Now you are a knight” Drent felt a lump in his throat as Emphryus spoke this thought out aloud. “Isn’t that a higher standing?”, he asked and Emphryus narrowed his eyes. “It is one that comes with certain expectations”, he explained to him. “One being that you defend the princess’ honour at all cost. Do not sully it by feeding into wilder speculations. I know you are fond of her” Those words nearly made Drent flinch. “So are you”, he replied, a bold choice of words that would have earned him at least a stern warning before his promotion. This time, after a moment of hesitation, Emphryus merely nodded. “I love her as I loved her brother”, he clarified. “She is like a mildly tiresome, but very precious younger sibling to me and I cannot be prouder of the woman she became in Raylansfair. But I have known her since the day she was born. Your connection to her is of a different kind and do not insult me by denying it” “Neither will I confirm what is merely a vile rumour”, Drent hissed and this time, Emphryus seemed more pleased with his words. “Shows you got some brains at least”, the knight complimented him. “But do watch your steps around her from now on. A soldier acting out of line is a common occurrence. It happens every day, everywhere and usually beneath notice. But you championing for our future queen attracted such attention that it even reached the Storm King’s ears. That is cause of concern for me and others who seek to protect Argella as she prepares for the inevitable day of her coronation” Drent frowned, but could not help but give a small nod to those words. “And now I am a knight…”, he sighed. “Means even more eyes on me. Brilliant” Emphryus’ expression mirrored his own. “One misstep around the princess and her enemies even in this fine court will use it against her. She has to fight an uphill battle as queen, one she is not even fully aware of yet. It is your duty and mine to make sure that things won’t get any harder for her” His tone was stern, but Drent had seen him in Raylansfair, beaming with pride for the Storm Princess. He meant well and much as it troubled Drent, he saw the wisdom in the loyal knight’s words. “I… will remember this”, he promised. Emphryus gave him a gruff nod. “I know you will not disappoint me. You were a soldier before your knighthood. You know more a thing about duty than half the knighted curs in this room” As soon as he spoke these words, he glanced over his shoulder, past Drent and a sigh left his throat. “Alas, you may take your leave now. This is a big night for you and you don’t want to waste all of it on me. I have a feeling we’ll be working together soon enough” As Drent followed his gaze, he spotted Torrence Bernile lurking nearby, clearly eavesdropping. The soldier’s eyes were wide with surprise and his gaze met Drent’s, shocked by what he had just heard. Drent gave Emphryus a nod, only barely stopping himself at bowing to a man who used to be his superior by far in standing just a little over an hour ago. “We’ll talk later”, he spoke, before he turned to Torrence, approaching him with a nervousness even he himself realized to be unfounded. He was a knight now and this man, though a dear friend, was his subordinate. There was no need for hesitation. “Hello, Torrence”, he greeted him. His fellow soldier… no, not his fellow anymore, just stared at him, his mouth open for a moment, before he composed himself. “So… it is true what they say, huh?”, he stuttered. “Garen picked it up already, probably from the Lady Tariel. Told everyone the Storm King’s going to knight you for what you did at Bronzegate” Drent sighed slightly, but he saw no reason not to come clean now, so he confirmed this with a nod. “Surprisingly, he’s been correct”, he spoke. “Why do I get the feeling I am the only one who did not know?” “Because it is”, Torrence confirmed. “Edonia forbade me from telling you. Said if it’s not true, you’d only be crushed” Drent grimaced. “Mighty considerate of her”, he chuckled. “For what it’s worth, I was half certain the king would kill me when he called for me. A little head’s up would have been nice” The two men began to walk past the rows of feasting soldiers, passing the high table, where Drent’s gaze briefly met that of Maester Qoherys. The Valyrian, who had just entertained Baron Schodek with a hearty story, sobered up immediately as he spotted Drent. With a firm smirk beneath his thick, braided beard, he gave him a nod. “This means I have to call you Ser now?”, Torrence asked, a brief uncertainty in his voice. “Uh… Ser?” Drent chuckled thinly, before he shook his head. “I’m still me, Torrence”, he disagreed. “We bled together, you and I. In private, it’s always going to be Drent for you. For Edonia as well. We’re friends” He meant it from the bottom of his heart, but he could see Torrence hesitating. “Sure… Drent”, the man replied. “But about that other thing Ser Emphryus just said… is it true you’re taking over Montclair’s command?” This time, Drent did not hesitate. “It is”, he clarified. “I was going to address this come tomorrow, but yes, I am your commanding officer now. We have received our first order already, which I will share tomorrow morning. I just want everyone to celebrate for now. We bloody earned it after Bronzegate” This brought a smile to Torrence’s face, but a hint of concern remained. Drent narrowed his eyes. “Until then, no matter what you just heard, not a word to Edonia or the others. Consider that your first official order” Reluctantly, the soldier saluted. “Yes, Ser”, he confirmed. By now, they were close enough to the table where the rest of his unit sat. Edonia was there, talking to Garen, of all people. Though the sellsword was not officially part of Montclair’s soldiers, he had been in Raylansfair with them and for all the animosity between him and Drent, he had earned the friendship of a number of other soldiers. Apparently and to Drent’s chagrin, Torrence and Edonia were among them, something he had not yet picked up on. Edonia fell quiet the moment she spotted Drent and following her example, so did the other soldiers, one by one. She seemed uncertain about his presence here, whereas Garen kept his cocky grin. “Rise and shine, Red”, he spoke, giving Edonia a pat on the shoulder. “Looks like your commanding officer is here at last” His tone was tense, the look he gave Drent chilly, as opposed to the uncertainty on Edonia’s face. “Good to see you’re still a cunt, Garen”, Drent replied. “I’m surprised you knew about my promotion before me” Garen shrugged. “Tariel had a hunch”, he admitted. “She keeps no secret from me. Though we agreed to keep it a secret. Ruining the king’s surprise would have been in poor taste” “And ill-advised”, Drent added. “Let me guess, you disapprove?” To his surprise, Garen shook his head. “You saved that Buckler boy at Bronzegate. The king had to give you something. A knighthood and a dubious promotion, that seems only fair to me. If anything, I regret not coming to Bronzegate with you.I could have contested you for that knighthood” “Dream on, Silver”, Edonia replied with a tense smirk, before she finally stood up. “Ser Drent”, she greeted him, followed by an impeccable salute. “Congratulations, my friend, from the bottom of my heart. You earned this” This caused the table to erupt in cheers, with every soldier, with the sole exception of Garen of course, clapping and cheering for Drent. Torrence, finally thawing up, patted him on the shoulder. “Ser Drent… that’ll take some time to get used to”, he admitted. “Same here”, Drent confirmed. “I’ll tell you the same I just told Torrence over here. In private, I will remain Drent to you. In public, I am your commanding officer, but we are friends” His gaze met Garen’s. “Most of us, at least. I have no intention of lording over you, but come tomorrow, you will follow my orders. I’m going to take over Ser Jax’s unit and tomorrow, I will reveal our first order. Tonight, I want you all to feast. Drink to the king’s health, or mine if you must, but drink all the way. I don’t need you in fighting shape tomorrow” This earned him even more cheers and Drent realized that, to his surprise, he was good at this. He was a knight now, yes, a commanding officer and he had no doubt that the finer details of this position were going to be difficult. However, he had been a soldier first and he knew how to talk to them, knew what they liked and what they needed. Perhaps he wouldn’t be all that bad at that whole knighthood thing after all. “I…”, he began, before immediately cutting himself off, when something from the far end of the hall got his attention. Someone, more like, and it was not difficult for her to draw attention. Even from afar, the Storm Princess was radiant. She stepped into the Great Hall wearing a different dress from before, a high-collared black dress with prominent yellow highlights, shaped like the antlers of a deer from her belly upwards to her collarbone. Tariel followed behind her, carrying the lower end of a silky, yellow cloak the princess had wrapped around her shoulders. “Excuse me for a moment, lads”, Drent stuttered. Edonia and Garen both turned their heads to follow his gaze. The former had a knowing smirk on her face, while the latter rolled his eyes. “Suppose I’ll come with you, Golton”, he sighed. “I’m gonna take Tariel away from the two of you. Thank me later” Drent was not above appreciating the gesture, honouring it with a nod and a grunt. “Let’s go then”, he growled. “The rest of you, have a drink on me” As expected this was met with cheers from his soldiers. Garen rose from his seat, briefly holding his side, where Drent had injured him by accident during their fight against Derek Ward, the traitor knight, during the raid. Though he had survived, the injury still slowed him down. And for all the bad blood between them, this was a grudge Drent understood only too well. “Garen, listen…”, he began, but he was met with a cold glare, as they made their way through the crowd. “We don’t have to talk, Golton”, the sellsword hissed. “I’m doing this for Tariel’s sake. She deserves a nice, joyous evening away from a princess who despises her” Drent shook his head. “Argella doesn’t despise her”, he claimed, though he was not entirely convinced of his own words. In reply, Garen shot him a joyless smirk. “You’re doing me a favour keeping her busy, Golton”, he replied. “You owe me that much and more” Drent knew better than to reply to this and for now, Garen seemed content, so they continued in silence. The Storm Princess had seated herself near one of the larger fires in the lower end of the hall, with Tariel draping the cloak around her. Even here in the hall a certain chill remained, the ancient stones of Storm’s End not enough to keep the cold out entirely. Argella noticed him long before he reached the fire, but a casual glance was all she’d throw in his direction. Instead, she was reading through a scroll which one of the servants had handed to her, a small scroll filled with small, careful handwriting. As he got closer, Drent could see how her fingers were cramped around the parchment and she did not react even as he reached the bench she had seated herself on. “Ser Drent Golton and… Garen”, Tariel announced them, briefly pausing as she locked eyes with the silver-haired sellsword. Argella glanced over her shoulder, acknowledging their presence with a nod. “I can see why my father’s newest knight seeks my company, but I can’t recall having any business with a sword for hire” “Good evening to you as well, princess”, Garen chuckled. “Rest assured, I am not here for you either. May I take the Lady Tariel for a moment?” He smiled, quite charmingly as Drent had to admit and Tariel blushed furiously. “My princess, I do not know why he would suggest…”, she began, but Argella cut her off with an almost bored handwave. “Aren’t you quite tired of secrecy after your little scheme at Raylansfair, Tariel?”, the princess hissed. “Take your leave and take your sellsword with you. I dismiss you for the night” Tariel’s eyes widened, as she gasped for a reply, whereas Garen seemed entirely calm. “See?”, he chuckled, as he offered an arm to her. “We got permission” Tariel, with red cheeks, accepted Garen’s arm, as he led her away and for once, as Drent realized, the sellsword seemed to be in a genuinely good mood. As for himself, he walked up to the bench, standing by the princess’ side, as she looked up from the scroll. “You knew about them”, he stated and she gave him a brief, exhausted smirk. “Tariel is not even nearly as good at keeping her secrets as her one brief success in Raylansfair may have led her to believe”, Argella replied. “I’ve known about her and Garen for a while” Drent glanced over his shoulder to see Tariel beaming with joy as Garen led her to the far end of the Great Hall, where they’d have some privacy. “She thought you’d disapprove”, Drent added and Argella’s initially pleased smile at seeing him cooled notably. “And why would I do that?”, she sighed. “I am not so petty as to deny her what is quite likely the best match she could have hoped for” She followed Drent’s gaze and her smirk returned as she saw his reaction of disbelief. “Garen, seriously?”, he growled. “Oh, don’t give me that look. He is of low birth, yes, but very easy on the eyes. Even you must see that, don’t you?”, the princess chuckled. “Tariel is a bastard of no renown and she has lost my father’s favour after her naivety cost us our triumph in Raylansfair. Even as my handmaiden, what better match could she have hoped for? Not even minor lords or second sons would bother with her. The best she can settle for is an ambitious man of looks to match her own and when it comes to that, I say Garen is a fine choice” Drent rolled his eyes, which only widened her smirk. She scooted over to the side of the bench, offering some space. “You may sit, Ser Drent”, she chirped. “As I understand it, my father has given you a much-deserved promotion” Just a few weeks ago, in Raylansfair, Drent would have accepted her proposition without hesitation. And yet, he was more keenly aware of the implications now. She was to be his queen. There was a reputation to uphold for her. As such, he remained standing. “Bernard Buckler wrote a letter”, he replied. "Left your father with no choice but to knight me. Quite unexpected of him, after your little scheme at the tourney”, Drent admitted and she gave him a reluctant nod, her lips tightening as she noticed his hesitation. “I may have misjudged him”, she sighed. “I won’t apologize for pitting him against Ser Emphryus in the joust. He proved himself a fine knight and the better man when he recommended you regardless” She shrugged and made it clear that this topic was over for her. Typical of her, Drent realized, with a faint smile on his face. “So, I am a knight now. Any advice?”, he asked, to which she shrugged, her smirk returning. “Do I look like someone with any advice on knighthood?”, she replied. “Many good men have served me well. You’d do better asking them. Though… you may have the basics figured out already. You are loyal to a fault. Decent in a fight. I’d call you chivalrous, but I see no need to stroke your ego. You are practically beaming with that already” Her words were cutting as ever, but her tone had changed, as he noted quite well. "You have spoken to Emphryus already?", she asked and he gave her a nod. "Good..." She glanced down at the scroll in her hands, the concern clearly visible for a second, before her regal calmness returned. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but fell silent. “What are you reading there?”, he finally asked, glancing at the scroll in her hands. Argella’s gaze darted towards it. “A long-expected letter”, she spoke. “From a friend I made in Raylansfair” She smirked briefly as she noticed his stare. “What? I can make friends, you know. Admittedly, perhaps the term ‘acquaintance’ would be more in order. We share a mutual enemy” “Maron Mullendore”, Drent deduced and Argella gave him a nod. “He is said enemy, yes”, she sighed. “Under other circumstances, my acquaintance would not even speak to me, but unlikely times make for unlikely bedfellows, as they say in Dorne” She raised the letter in her hand, not long enough for Drent to make out any words on it. “The new captain of Raylansfair’s city guard, one Daemion Stratford, reached out to me shortly before we left. He had his doubts about Mullendore almost from the get go and I was only too happy to confirm his suspicions. Now, he has sent me a letter, agreeing to keep me informed on the recent developments in the Reach” “A smart man”, Drent complimented him and Argella gave him a nod. “Smart and pleasantly vindictive. His former commander died during the raid and from what I could tell, he was fond of him. Thinks he has failed him”, she replied and her expression darkened. “I understand his pain all too well. Not a day goes by where I do not regret failing Ser Lucas” Drent shook his head. “You did not fail Ser Lucas”, he replied, though the Storm Princess obviously held a different opinion. “I swore an oath, Ser Drent”, she sighed. “And yet I stood by, powerless as this masked beast cut him down. For that, I will take their heads. Maron Mullendore, Petyr Vyrwel, Erik Mogfield and all who serve them until all they ever built will crumble. The day will come where I’ll see them hang. Then, I will have fulfilled my duty” Her expression was grim and Drent could not stand to see her like this right now. “Well, remind me never to get on your bad side, princess”, he spoke, his tone lighter than usual. She raised an eyebrow, giving him only the briefest of glances. “It can happen easier than you might think, Ser”, she replied, but the faintest of smirks flashed across her face. “It may come as a surprise to you, but I can be petty in my grudges” Once more, she patted onto the place next to her. “Will you not sit?”, she asked. Reluctantly, Drent stepped closer. “Briefly”, he agreed, as he sat down next to her. “I had a… certainly eye-opening talk with Ser Emphryus. He’s concerned for you and not without reason” Argella rolled her eyes. “He worries too much”, she hissed. “And his concern is not always welcome. He is a fine knight, one of the finest at my father’s court, but the thought of him being my chaperone is horrifying. You’d do good following your own path instead of blindly relying on the advice of others. It has served you well so far” “Yeah… it got me a knighthood and a very uncomfortable order. I take it you know what your father ordered me to do?”, he sighed. The Storm Princess was quiet for a moment, the flames reflecting in her deep eyes. “Of course”, she replied quietly. “I hate that he grants you not a moment of respite. Hundreds of knights are there to command tens of thousands of soldiers and yet for some reason he entrusts this mission to you and yours, who have already been through so much. I am quite furious with him about that, you know” “I can imagine”, Drent confirmed and an uncomfortable thought grew within him once more. “My princess, could it be that he gave me this honour, this knighthood and my first command because he seeks to placate your anger?” She laughed briefly at his comment, a mocking sound, but hollow all the same. “Oh please, do not overestimate your sway on my anger”, she disagreed. “A Durrandon’s fury is not so easily quenched and my father knows it all too well. No, you received that knighthood because you earned it thoroughly and you got your orders to march to Dorne because they are a grim necessity. None of that had anything to do with me” “Ser Emphryus mentioned you petitioned for my knighthood even before I left for Bronzegate”, Drent replied and this clearly caught her off guard. Colour rose up in her cheeks, embarrassment quickly giving way to indignant fury. “Emphryus babbles like a washing woman!”, Argella hissed, before she took a deep breath to calm herself. “But if you must know, then yes, were it up to me you’d have been honoured in that way weeks ago. You cannot possibly be surprised about that, can you?” Drent hesitated for a moment, before he shook his head. “I'm not", he admitted. "But perhaps it is a good thing your father did not follow your wishes" Argella gave him a nod. “I am inclined to agree”, she whispered. “This gave you a chance to truly earn this in the eyes of the whole kingdom. Not a man at court will deny your worthiness now. Albeit I fear that this made you only more qualified for my father’s task” As brief as it came, her smile faded again. “I’ll get it done”, Drent assured her, but this time, his words did nothing to cheer her up. “Bold words. You’re not the first to utter them”, the princess reminded him. “Do not underestimate the Dornish. They are fierce and stubborn and as unyielding as the words of House Martell” “Sounds as if you admire them”, Drent remarked and to his surprise, Argella openly nodded at his words. “What is there not to admire?”, she stated. “They are our enemies, yes, but unlike my father, I have no hatred for them. In Dorne, at least I wouldn’t have to watch my words just because I am my father’s chosen heiress” “Hm…”, Drent mumbled. “I see what you mean. Perhaps it pleases you that your father seeks to make peace with them” Argella shrugged. “It would have”, she admitted. “Were it not for the fact that you and your men might pay for this peace in blood. Getting the Dornish to negotiate will be no easy feat. Their border lords are almost as hard-headed as my lord father. Old Lord Yronwood, Widow-Lover Wyl, the One-Eyed Falcon of Fowler… convincing those will be as difficult as it will be dangerous” “I don’t fear them”, Drent stated boldly. For just a second, the princess’ fury was directed at him. “Perhaps you should, because your people depend on you not throwing their lives away alongside yours!”, she hissed, almost loud enough for the celebrants behind them to notice. “And I… well, I do not fear for you of course, but a bit of worry would not be indecent now, would it?” She took a deep breath, but the fury remained etched on her face, a fury born of concern. She looked at Drent, eyes wide as the ocean and when she spoke, her voice was but an agitated plea. “I don’t want you to die in Dorne, Drent” He was about to say something flippant, something in jest as he’d usually do. But he could see it in her eyes that this was no laughing matter for her. Argella Durrandon was genuinely worried. “I won’t, you have my word on that”, he assured her. “I have no intention of dying at all anytime soon” For a second, her gaze hardened. “And still you are in good spirits, you brave fool of a man”, she hissed. “Just know that I…” She paused and the harshness in her gaze was gone. “I order you to come back, Ser” He stood up and saluted firmly, which brought a smile back to her face. “Good soldier”, she complimented him. “Your instincts served you well in Raylansfair. May they keep you safe in the Marches” With these words, she glanced over her shoulders and as Drent followed her gaze, he saw her looking at the rest of his unit, those very same soldiers who had followed her bravely in Raylansfair. “Do they know already?” Drent shook his head. “They have earned a night of respite”, he spoke and immediately, Argella’s gaze fell back onto him. “And what about their leader?”, she asked. “This celebration is yours as much as theirs. Have you not earned the same right?” Drent thought about her words for a moment. “It’s been a long day, Argella…”, he sighed. “A lot of things that I need to think about” With these words, he rose from his seat by her side. “If this is all, perhaps I should be getting some early rest” For one moment, he could see a surprising amount of disappointment on her face, before she regained her regal composure. “Already?”, she asked. “Besides talking to your senior knight and your future queen, have you even had a chance to enjoy this evening at all?” Drent slowly shook his head, his mood grim despite her welcome company. “There will be other celebrations”, he spoke. The princess looked at him from the side for a few silent moments. Then, she stood up, the yellow cloak wrapped around her like a blanket. “Well, I for one have warmed up enough”, she spoke curtly, her gaze moving from the fire to the left, where it met his own. “I need to get this letter to Qoherys. After that, I will head for the high table, to represent my father until he sees fit to grace us with his presence. Perhaps I won’t mind your company up there. I could introduce you to Ser Landry” Drent managed a thin smile, even if part of him wanted nothing more than to join her at once. “He might be a tad bit too intimidating for my taste”, he chuckled, which earned him a mild glare from the princess. “Oh please, he’s a little puppy compared to me”, she spoke. “You’re not intimidated by me, are you?” Drent shook his head. “Not anymore”, he admitted. “Though to be fair, you never knocked me prone, much unlike Ser Landry at the tourney. And even with you, it took me a while” Her mouth formed a thin, straight line, but her eyes could not deny a hint of amusement. “Well, if the thought of spending this evening alongside me and a whole battalion of senior knights proves too much for you, might I suggest a different option?”, she spoke, her gaze wandering past him, to the far end of the hall where his men celebrated. “Sit with them”, she suggested. “You being in charge of them has to be as strange for them as it is for you. Might be better to break the ice now” She shrugged, followed by a brief, but genuine smile. “But I guess I leave that up to you”, she whispered. “You’re a knight now. You can choose your own company” [Join Argella at the high table] [Mingle with your soldiers] [Retreat for the night]
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Talia
New Member
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Post by Talia on Dec 24, 2023 0:55:07 GMT
[Join Argella at the high table] - I vote for this option because I want them to get to know one another better, and who knows, maybe some romance will develop. I know this is ASOIAF-verse and it is bound to end badly if they try, but I still think they could be a cute couple. Not to mention that it would fulfill her father's desire for her to be married to a man of lower rank than her own who would support her in her duties as Queen.
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Post by drdestroyer18 on Dec 24, 2023 14:05:12 GMT
[Mingle with your soldiers]
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Post by GMS Freeman on Dec 28, 2023 11:07:40 GMT
[Mingle with your soldiers]
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Post by InGenNateKenny on Jan 5, 2024 4:42:02 GMT
[Mingle with your soldiers] Drent drunk better when Drent mingle with friends. Yes, it's party time, time to get wasted and go nuts. Drent will be dancing on tables and doing the finger dance (yes, finger dance plz). Argella is so cool but these are our people, our bros. Dornishmen are well known for their treachery and wanton ways, and deservingly so. Damn Dornishmen.
This Stratford-Durrandon connection is of interest. It is good Argella's memory is long. I do wonder how Stratford sent this letter to Argella. Raven seemingly, but is he using Raylansfair rookery? Is that a good idea? We will see...
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 29, 2024 15:02:32 GMT
[Join Argella at the high table] - I vote for this option because I want them to get to know one another better, and who knows, maybe some romance will develop. I know this is ASOIAF-verse and it is bound to end badly if they try, but I still think they could be a cute couple. Not to mention that it would fulfill her father's desire for her to be married to a man of lower rank than her own who would support her in her duties as Queen. Drent would indeed be a theoretically possible suitor to Argella now, given that he has been knighted. We know from the example of Bronn that a knighthood is enough to be able to marry into nobility, but even then, he got probably the least desired highborn bachelorette in all of Westeros. That being said, Drent is still only an elevated commoner, so there is no possible way a marriage to the crown princess of the Stormlands would not be a scandal of unprecedented portions. I agree that they would make a match, but Drent is painfully aware of just how difficult that would make things for Argella's already troublesome ascenscion to the throne.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 29, 2024 15:02:46 GMT
[Mingle with your soldiers] Drent drunk better when Drent mingle with friends. Yes, it's party time, time to get wasted and go nuts. Drent will be dancing on tables and doing the finger dance (yes, finger dance plz). Argella is so cool but these are our people, our bros. Dornishmen are well known for their treachery and wanton ways, and deservingly so. Damn Dornishmen. This Stratford-Durrandon connection is of interest. It is good Argella's memory is long. I do wonder how Stratford sent this letter to Argella. Raven seemingly, but is he using Raylansfair rookery? Is that a good idea? We will see... Emphryus Dresfel approves of this sentiment! Seriously though, this might be a stereotype, but it is surprisingly accurate as well. There might be some exceptions, but some of the most ill-reputed lords in all Westeros come from Dorne and a few of the unintroduced Dornish characters perfectly fit that description. That is a thought you should keep in mind, because I intend to reveal more about it at a later point. Daemion Stratford has thought this through quite a bit and so far he's been very secretive (to the point where I never even hinted at it in his previous Book 2 appearances), so we'll see if he made such a comparably simple mistake or if there's more to this.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Mar 29, 2024 16:13:18 GMT
The Voting is closed!
Drent is going to mingle with his soldiers Probably a prudent decision to actually spend time with the people he's supposed to lead. So far, he was only around as a comrade, but things will be VERY different going forward and this changed dynamic between Drent and his friends will play a big part in his Book 2 storyline. He has one more part in this chapter as we are nearing the finale and it will be a big one. The next part will be out this weekend. I have finished a long Arthur part that features one of the more interesting meet-ups in this chapter and a scene I have greatly enjoyed writing. I am also currently writing a Jenna part which should be finished shortly. Last time we saw Arthur, he was in the middle of a very talk with Maron Mullendore, who questioned him about Sherryl. Arthur confirmed that he was there when she died, but seemingly succesfully lied to the knight about her last words (which, if you need a refreshment on those, basically laid out his entire plan for Arthur). Maron, who was quite sympathetic to Arthur in this conversation, expressed a desire to work more closely with him in the future. Their talk was interrupted by the arrival of Petyr Vyrwel, whose daughter Edith had disappeared earlier that day. He requested Maron's aid, which the knight all too readily offered and ordered the Alley Cats to look for his daughter in the city. Arthur and the Sphynx found themselves joined by the Tom in their search for Petyr's daughter, whom Arthur hopes to ally with against Wolfius Woodbark and Lupin Frostborn, even if he seriously does not trust the Alley Cats. The Tom offered to take the Moggy with them, which Arthur chose to decline in favour of taking another guardsman as his backup for his negotiation. Meanwhile, in Jenna's part we learn that Petyr only involved the Alley Cats to get them out of the way, as he fully believes his daughter has left the city. As such, he requested Jenna's aid, considering that she knows the land better than all of his knights, in joining a search party of the surrounding woods and farmland. She advised him to search her the lands formerly belonging to her father first, even if this would bring her closer to her uncle again, whom she hadn't seen after his betrayal at the end of Chapter 1. Also, I do have an announcement I am kinda excited for. One thing I always wanted to do (and was able to in the past thanks to the amazing work of WildlingKing) was to show you how I imagine the character to look. Unfortunately, I am about as artsy as a potato. As such, I have looked into various means to depict the characters and eventually got down a rabbit hole that led me to AI generated images. I understand this is a controversial topic to some, but the way I see it, there is no other way for me to depict the characters and as such, I don't think I am hurting actual artists by using those tools. However, I won't insult actual artists by calling those generated images, nice as they may look, art. With that said, I have spent the last few days generating a lot of FoT and Dark Eye related characters with surprisingly successful results. It is not perfect, but many of those characters come quite close to how I envisioned them and from my perspective the results are decent. So, from now on I will regularly post a few of these images here and in the Art thread, though in case you are absolutely against AI-generated images (or you have a bad connection and struggle to load lots of images at once) I will hide them beneath a spoiler tag in here, which I have never used before, but which I hope is going to work. Also, expect the images to be drawn in different styles, as this is still an AI doing the work and it is literally not smart enough for consistency. So, without further ado, here are the five original FoT PoV characters and five Chapter 1 characters that have close ties to them: First, of course, we have Lucas Flowers, the OG PoV, depicted here after his unfortunate stay at Maron's dungeons but before taking on Durrandon colours. Idealistic, perhaps a little bit naive, a truly noble man who in true ASOIAF fashion got hopelessly outmatched by the schemes of men more cunning and ruthless than he could ever imagine and ended up getting Starked. Also probably the one character I miss the most, even if his death is one of my favourite parts ever: Of course, there can be no Lucas without Leonard the Stately! Aloof ally turned true friend, the last true knight of Raylansfair has one of my favourite character arcs in Book 1 and his development is far from over. More pragmatic than Lucas, way more jaded and sometimes a bit of an ass, but still a hero at heart and with a deep-seated desire to avenge his best friends' death, even if that means he has to work with a certain reluctant killer in a city he hoped never to enter again. Also, a quick reminder that the AI tools are very powerful and produce nice-looking images, but they have their limits, as for the life of mine I could not get it to draw Leonard's facial scar correctly, but this, I believe comes close enough: Next we have the sole surviving Chapter 1 PoV (for now), good old Jaron. Ser Bastard, as he is affectionately and not so affectionately known by friends and enemies alike is perhaps the most unlucky fish out of water in the entire story. Even more naive and romantic than Lucas at first, his stay in Oldtown brutally crushed those knightly dreams of his and now his stay in Essos to save the woman he loves has made things only more confusing for him: With Ser Bastard, of course, must come Harpy, Oldtown's resident Mafia Princess. Though not without her flaws, she actually turned out surprisingly decent in spite of her ridiculously traumatic upbringing, but oh boy does she need to think things through before acting. Currently regretting all the moments she did not act out on a very understandable desire to murder Abbas al-Yunkari back when he still had dealings with the Burned Man: Next we got Lyria Mettel. Has the unfortunate honour of being killed off partially because I admittedly had nothing else to do for her in Book 2 and partially because it made for a wickedly exciting plot twist and another favourite part of mine. She's true salt of the earth, hard-working, tough and a caring mother for her daughter. Also has the honour of being the only person to give Wolfius severe blunt-force trauma and stomach cramps on the same day: Speaking of, next there is Wolfius Woodbark himself, Raylansfair's resident skinchanging serial killer. I cannot understate my joy when the AI understood my request to make him look somewhat like Hannibal Lecter, the Mikkelsen version that is. Quite easily the most insane and sadistic character in the entire story and that is quite an achievement, but even then, outside of his attack on Lyria he is just not that successful either, with his most prominent failure leaving him with a rather gnarly scar inflicted by Jenna Harking, of all people. Last seen in critical condition after Lyria very nearly killed him, although he is probably not quite dead yet. The next PoV I got for you is none other than Marak, who holds the dubious honour of being the first PoV character to die, although he managed to at least take Terroma with him. Actually a solid guy, unless he's drunk, angry or paid to do something not so solid. So... perhaps not that great of a person after all. He's jovial, he's affable, he's sociable, he's dumb as a rock, but never mistake him for a nice man: With Marak comes Noelle Mield, revered priestess of Rollmop! Probably got t'rholled by her own red god with seriously confusing visions which she spectacularly misinterpreted. Also tried to burn an innocent girl at the stake and killed Ellena's mentor/father figure in a genuinely well-intentioned but horribly misguided attempt to stop the brutal war she has seen in the flames. Currently trying to atone for her misdeeds at the court of Aegon: And last among the PoV's, but never least, one of my favourite dead characters of all time, Torvin Breaker. A brutal and ruthless raider and killer, yes, but that dude genuinely tried his best and him stepping up against his own cruel king for all the right reasons is nothing but admirable. His death was as good as inevitable, but I did not enjoy killing him off in any way, something that cannot be said for some of the other characters in the deceased list. His influence will be felt all over the entire Book 2 Riverlands storyline: Finally, the other half of the Ironbros and the only non-Chapter 1 PoV on this list, Garthon Breaker. The second-most un-Ironborney Ironborn in the entire story (with Sylvi Codd being first place), a charming and charismatic talker and bon vivant who was very content with not getting involved in anything regarding the king and his rebellious Riverlords. Torvin had other ideas and as such, he now finds himself in a very bad spot, forced to fight a war he does not fully believe in, for people who will never fully accept him, against a king he never cared for, all for the memory of a brother who left his side too early. Also, the AI tool struggled with his scar, inflicted on him after he left Harren with a similar one, but the rest of him looks exactly as imagined: That's it for now, I do hope you enjoy my little attempt at bringing the FoT characters to live in a different way. For me, this is the most fun I had all year and I fully intend to eventually generate every single character in the story, so expect more reveals with the parts to come. Also, if you do not enjoy this sort of content then by all means, leave a comment and I will take your feedback into account.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Apr 6, 2024 15:58:06 GMT
Arthur Under the light of the setting sun, the four men strode through the city. Arthur was flanked by the Tom and the Sphynx, Erik and Rodrik. Wisely, as he now realized, he had left the Moggy behind, for the thought of the silent, hulking brute behind him would have been even more unnerving than being flanked by the two masked killers. The Tom alone would undoubtedly be an enemy he could never hope to take down. He had only seen the man fight once, during Ser Lucas’ trial by combat, but it still remained the finest display of swordsmanship he had ever seen. It was bizarre that right now this ruthless killer was one of Lord Petyr’s best hopes at finding his daughter. The Tom carried himself with the elegance of a dancer, each step silent, each glance attentive and intelligent. He seemed to notice whenever Arthur looked at him, replying with a slight move of his head and brief, unsettling eye contact. Somehow even odder was the fact that having the Sphynx by his side felt more comforting. Rodrik Grimthorn was not a trustworthy man by any definition, but he was no stranger either. Arthur knew what to expect of him and for all his faults, the care he showed for his nephew and niece seemed genuine. Instead of taking the Tom by his offer and choosing the Moggy for their third companion, Arthur had opted to take one of his own guardsmen with him. With a handful to choose from, he had picked Zyre Boatwright, one of the newer recruits, having not even fought in the raid yet. From what Arthur had gathered, Zyre had been a sellsword in the past and he clearly looked the part, being a rugged, well-built warrior. One of his eyes was missing, hidden beneath a thick patch, but he remained a sharp and attentive guardsman, one whom Arthur had great hopes in. In particular, he had brought him because he once overheard the one-eyed man talking about the Alley Cats, complaining about them being nothing but a bunch of killers and thugs for hire. He was no friend of the Tom and should the talks go south, he was the one Arthur wanted to have by his side. “So, do we know she’s still in the city?”, Zyre asked in a snarl, as they passed the burnt remnants of the few streets that had burned down during the raid. He tensed up notably as the Tom and the Sphynx glanced over their shoulders at once, both of whom were glaring at him. To Arthur’s surprise, Zyre met their glares with his own fierce stare. “An excellent question”, the Tom then admitted, his voice melodious and low. “The answer is no, of course. I don’t think the girl is still in the city and neither does Petyr. Else he would have led the search effort on this front instead of riding out with his knights and the Selwyn men. We are merely his attempt at leaving no stone unturned” Zyre’s expression did not falter under the Tom’s continuous glare. “That does beg the question why we are wasting our time with this”, he spoke. “It’s not as if there’s not enough work to do for the city guard at the time” He looked at Arthur, but his fists remained clenched as he threw a glare at the Tom. “Captain Nathamer, I am sorry, but why have you taken me with you? This clearly seems to be a matter between you and the cats” The Tom looked up and down at the one-eyed man and this time, Arthur noticed that his own gaze was curious. Zyre, however, seemed surprisingly hostile, a far cry from the polite and helpful recruit he had met a few weeks ago. “That is another excellent question. Perhaps you were brought along because seven eyes see more than six”, the Tom chuckled, his voice cold mockery. “Enlighten us, Captain Nathamer. Why was this man brought over my own? The Moggy would have been an excellent addition to our merry search party” “Would he?”, Arthur hissed. “Because I wouldn’t trust him within half a mile of a child, much less our lord’s daughter” The Tom was quiet after this, his green eyes mustering Arthur closely. “You do not trust any of us”, he then whispered. “Is this the man you spoke so highly of, Sphynx?” Rodrik, who had been quiet for most of their walk, shot a brief, but severe glare into their direction and Arthur was not sure if the masked man was looking at him or at his leader. “Trust must be earned”, he then sighed. “I understand that this might be difficult, given our… reputation. But understand that our enemy is also an enemy to the Tom” This immediately got the other man’s attention. The Tom’s sharp eyes narrowed and he let out a displeased growl. “Lupin”, he spat. The Sphynx gave him a nod. “Though his cur is the more immediate threat. Wolfius has been here. He has left a trail of corpses” This seemed to stun the Tom, as much as Arthur was possible to say with the mask. “Woodbark, huh…”, he chuckled. “I didn’t think he had it in him. Between these two, he always struck me as the saner one. The more cowardly as well, but then again, few men are as fearless as Lupin” “Sounds like you admire him”, Arthur spoke, his voice calm and careful not to betray the uneasiness this man’s presence filled him with. The Tom gave him an immediate and entirely unapologetic nod. “I do”, he admitted. “I always admire worthy adversaries and never have I met a man as much my match as Lupin” He narrowed his eyes beneath the mask. “Of course, that only makes me want to kill him all the more, because how else can a man grow but by defeating his equals?” “Defeating his betters maybe”, Arthur blurted out carelessly, a feeble attempt at making conversation. The Tom chuckled coldly. “And do you see any of those here?”, he asked. “Oldtown had a handful, but Raylansfair? No, Ser, if Lupin is around he will be far and above the only man who can pose a challenge to me. Which means that, congratulations, you have won my full attention” “Are you sure I should be here for that talk?”, Zyre growled and Arthur subtly took a step back, positioning himself slightly between the Tom and his companion. “I can deal with wasting my time looking for a kid that’s not even here anymore, but this sounds like something between you and the Tom” The masked man glanced over his shoulder at both guards and the look in his eyes was utterly inscrutable. “Perhaps we should split up”, he spoke. “To cover more ground, of course. That way, me and Nathamer can talk in private” Arthur exchanged an alarmed glance with Rodrik and the other masked man stepped up, grabbing his leader by the arm. “This one stands under my protection, Erik”, he warned him, earning him a cold chuckle. “And protected he shall be, Rodrik”, he replied. “At ease, both of you. I harbour no ill intention here” He spoke these words with confidence and something about them made Arthur believe him. Perhaps it was just the fact that he had seen this man fight. Deception was not necessary. “Alright then”, Arthur agreed. Rodrik let out a sigh beneath his mask, before stepping back. “Then I will take this brute with me”, he hissed towards Zyre, who met the masked man’s glare with one of his own. “Speak, the two of you, but make it quick. I will not be left out of any decisions regarding this alliance” The Tom gave him a nod, before taking a hard turn left down a narrow alleyway. “Follow me, Nathamer”, he whispered and Arthur reluctantly complied. He glanced over his shoulder to where the Sphynx and Zyre remained, before following the most dangerous man he had ever met into a dark alleyway. His father would have beaten him for such stupidity, but Hackor was gone and times were dire. Arthur knew they needed this man. They needed this alliance against Lupin and Wolfius. “I am certain you have questions”, the Tom began after a few moments of walking. Arthur gave him a nod. “Lots of them, to be honest”, he replied. This earned him a chuckle from the masked man. “I probably won’t answer them all, but if it makes you any more willing to work with me, I will try to satisfy your curiosity. In return, you will answer my questions” He turned his head towards the guardsman and his piercing green eyes stared right at him. “I expect you to be forthcoming” Arthur tensed up under this glare. He had seen what remained of the Tom’s face when Ser Lucas had destroyed his previous mask during their duel. As horrifying as that sight had been, the mask was even more unnerving. “Lupin… what do you know about him? I need to know all you can tell me, no matter how insignificant”, he began. “Rodrik told me a few things, but he also mentioned that you have been closer to him” “Rodrik spoke the truth”, the Tom confirmed. “In the beginning, there were the three of us, Northerners who had lost everything, forced to flee beyond the Narrow Sea. Me and Rodrik had lost everything. Our houses. Our families. Lost to House Bloodboar’s butchers” He touched the mask and his hand remained there for a moment. “Lupin was more fortunate. His family still lives in their ancestral lands. House Frostborn is not a prestigious house by any means, but they are thriving. He had to flee for darker reasons. I never questioned it, I never cared. All my life I have worked with wicked men. I became one to survive. Lupin though, he was always a twisted, vile man at heart. When his family recognized the monster in their midst, he barely escaped with his life. Wolfius helped him with that” “Wolfius was one of you as well?”, Arthur asked and the Tom shook his head. “Hardly. He was Lupin’s cur. The most devoted man I have ever met, but that’s about it for his admirable qualities. He loves Lupin with every fiber of his being”, he clarified. “And while he was always around, he was never a part of the Alley Cats. I tolerated him, because Lupin kept him close, but I never gave him a mask. To be honest, between the two of them Wolfius always struck me as kinder. He had a heart for animals even back then. Always followed by stray cats, that one, for he fed them well. He once nearly drew a knife on me after I killed a barking dog. Even buried the cur” “You’re telling me that bastard has a heart?”, Arthur hissed. This time, the Tom chuckled. “I do indeed”, he claimed. “Which is why I am so surprised that Wolfius lost his mind like this.He was cautious. Fearful even. Never enjoyed killing much. Whatever happened with him, I presume Lupin had a hand in it. I have seen him breaking stronger minds with ease” “Tell me more about Lupin”, Arthur demanded, but the Tom shook his head. “Not so hasty, Nathamer”, he replied, his voice a dark, melodic purr. “I believe it is my time to ask. My first question regards this odd alliance you have found yourself in. I know you don’t trust Rodrik any more than you trust me, but what about his nephew? Young Ryler has suffered at Lupin’s hands and it stands to reason that whatever happened to Wolfius could have happened to him as well. Perhaps he too is just one bad day away from snapping” By now, they had reached one of the less populated parts of the city. Dozens of families had lost their lives here during the raid and the damage done to the houses was still only barely fixed. “What are you getting at?”, Arthur asked and the Tom glanced over his shoulder right at him. “I know what to expect from Rodrik and that girl of his, Lucia. I know what to expect from you, believe it or not. But Ryler is a wildcard. I don’t like that. If he turns out to be a liability, I need to know if you have what it takes” Arthur narrowed his eyes. “I trust him”, he replied. “And I know that Rodrik would never let any harm befall him” The Tom narrowed his eyes with sudden fury. “Well, Rodrik failed at that”, he hissed. “He believed himself the only survivor of his house, while his nieces were tormented in Bloodboars dungeon and while his only living nephew was shipped away by a man he considered a friend. Lupin subjected him to unspeakable experiments. Even I did not know and had I, I wouldn’t have condoned it. It was needless cruelty that nearly broke the Alley Cats when Rodrik found out” “You’re telling me Ryler is dangerous?” Arthur asked and the Tom gave him a firm nod. “You have seen my bodyguard, the Moggy”, he continued. “Lupin made him. He learned advanced alchemy in Asshai and put his knowledge and his brilliant mind to use. Dozens died. Only three survived. Ryler was a failed first draft. The Moggy meanwhile was Lupin’s masterpiece. Thankfully, he is loyal to me and me alone. The same cannot be said about the Fang, the… somewhat successful experiment whom you have met a few weeks ago. I know what that thing is capable of and if Ryler is any similar, then I assure you, that boy is a threat to our fragile alliance” “If you’re asking me to get rid of him, I will not”, Arthur hissed and this time, the Tom let out a hollow chuckle. “I am not asking, Nathamer”, he clarified. “I do not want to see the boy dead. He is dear to Rodrik. But should that day come, should he become a liability, I need people on my side to deal with him” He gave Arthur a long, quiet look, before sighing audibly. “But your stance is clear. How… disappointing. You have answered my question. Ask yours” Arthur clenched his fists at the callous tone of this man. Everything within him found it revolting to entertain such an alliance, but then again, Rodrik was not much better company. It was all to stop Wolfius. His honour was a petty price to pay for that. “How dangerous is Lupin?”, he asked and the Tom rolled his eyes. “That is your question, really?”, he replied. “He is a skinchanger, much like Wolfius, but exceptionally stronger. His mind is twisted, but brilliant. And in a fight, he is an unpredictable menace. Even I would struggle to hold my own against him. Does that answer your question?” A chill ran down Arthurs spine as he nodded. Wolfius on his own had wreaked havoc on this city. The thought that somewhere out there, perhaps nearby even, there was a man infinitely more dangerous, a man who seemed to frighten even the Tom was unsettling, to say the least. By all means, he needed this alliance. “My next question then. I expect an honest answer”, the Tom continued. “What do you think of my employer? What is your honest opinion on good Ser Maron Mullendore?” Arthur barely caught his expression from slipping. The Tom looked at him closely now, his eyes carefully mustering him. Did he suspect anything? No, Arthur was certain that if he did, he would have killed him already. “Ser Maron is a fascinating man”, he replied, choosing his words very carefully. “I don’t know much about him, but from what I gathered, his desire to aid the city is genuine. I harbour him no ill will” The Tom was quiet for a moment and Arthur decided to speak up again, to stop the masked man from drawing any unwanted conclusions. “But why the sudden interest?” The Tom let out one cold chuckle. “Call it professional curiosity, Nathamer”, he replied. “I want to know where I’m standing with my new allies. I am indebted to Ser Maron and would not want my loyalty to him to stand in the way of our mutual interests. It pleases me to see that my concerns have been unfounded” Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Why were you concerned?”, he then asked. The Tom glanced at him for a brief moment, before his green eyes darted across the street. “Is that your question, Nathamer?”, he asked in return and Arthur gave him a nod. “Ever since we started this conversation, you have been awfully distrustful of me. We have a mutual enemy and I have come for an alliance. Have I given you reason to doubt my sincerity?” “That’s two questions, but just this once I will answer them both. Consider it a gesture of good will”, the Tom replied. “Ser Maron left enemies in Oldtown, enemies whom I fear have followed him here. There are elements in this city who seek to undermine the new lord and his closest allies. The death of this farmer a few weeks ago has confirmed my suspicions in part, but it also riled up many who have previously stood by idly” Arthur clenched a fist as he heard these words. He knew of Richard Harking’s death. Officially, it was for treason and conspiracy, but he had talked to Nora Recton. The poor girl had been there when Maron had beaten a good man to death. She would have died too for intervening, had it not been for the Tom who held her back, strangely enough. Arthur knew that Richard had been innocent of whatever Maron had accused him of. Everybody knew it, for Richard had been a good and respectable man. It was no surprise that many would rise up against this, but so far, Arthur had not noticed any conspiracies, even though it was his duty to uncover them. “I had to make sure that you are not among my lord’s enemies”, the Tom continued. “And call it a hunch but I believe you. You are no liar, Nathamer. Which is why I can trust you with another truth. I have a man in your city guard. He tells me that only few of your people support good Ser Maron. He even heard words of sympathy for the killed farmer and for wanted criminals such as Leonard Constantine. A humbling report, truly. It made me wonder how many among your people I can truly trust. And just then, you arrived, in the company of a dear friend, bringing a most curious proposition with you. Forgive me for being suspicious” Arthur shook his head. “Can’t blame a man for being cautious, as my father used to say”, he sighed. “I don’t know what you heard or from whom, but I keep away from talks like that. Never was included in them either. The drawbacks of having been the old commander’s son” The Tom glanced at him and then, a single, genuine chuckle sounded from beneath the mask. “I suppose that much is true”, he replied. “Very well then. I understand you a bit better now, Nathamer” He stopped dead in his tracks and turned towards the guardsman, who tensed up under his calm, but intense glare. “I am satisfied with your replies. Truths, but not so full as to make you seem naive”, he spoke and there was an odd, mocking tone to his voice. “We can have an alliance, under one term” Arthur narrowed his eyes as he and the Tom looked at each other. “You can have Woodbark. Do with him as you like. It seems to me that he deserves it” “And you?”, Arthur asked, even though he already knew the answer. “Lupin”, the Tom replied. “I want him alive. I want him unharmed. In return, I am willing to pledge myself to your cause. I will aid you, Rodrik and this entire city against Wolfius Woodbark together with all of my men as Maron can spare them” He extended a hand and Arthur hesitated. After a moment, the Tom chuckled once again. “Rest assured, I will make sure Lupin never harms another person again, but his mind… Rodrik has tried to replace him, but there simply is no match for Lupins genius. He will serve me as he did once before. And all will be well, as Maron would say” “And what would you have him do?”, Arthur growled. The Tom was quiet for a moment, before shaking his head. “Enough questions for now, Nathamer”, he hissed. “Your quarrel is not with Lupin, so this should be an easy decision. Do we have a deal?” His gaze rested on Arthur, who stared at the pristine, unmoving mask that covered his face. It was a generous offer, one he knew would be crucial to take down the monster that had killed so many. And yet, something in the Tom’s voice made him hesitate. Now that he was so close to allying with this man, he knew for a fact that he could never fully trust him. Perhaps he should ask for more time, consult with Rodrik and especially with Ryler on these terms. After all, this concerned them as well. [Ally with the Tom] [Ask for more time to consider]
Jenna Jenna had rarely been on horseback in the past. When she was younger, her father used to own a mare to aid him with farm work. He had known how to ride it well and he had taught his children, but the horse had been a smaller animal and it had starved to death almost a decade ago. This time, Petyr had her seated on one of his own steeds, a fine white horse named Clover, a gentle creature but still notably taller than Jenna herself. As such, she clung to the saddle for her dear life while riding side by side with the lord and about a dozen hastily gathered knights. To her right rode Dustran Selwyn, Lord Donnel’s firstborn son and his younger brother Derik. Both of them and Dunaver Flowers had volunteered to aid the search efforts for Edith and each had taken four good riders with them. While Dunaver and Ser Ian Shortwood were leading their riders down the north-eastern road, a larger group was currently scouting the south-eastern lands, the ones that used to belong to her father. The riders were led by Petyr himself, together with Dustran Selwyn, Hugo Farnham and others Jenna barely knew. Ser Darren Tallwood was there as well, the only knight she actually knew, but she hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. Ever since he returned to Raylansfair a few months ago, something about him seemed different. He was colder, distant as well and he barely met anyone’s gaze anymore. Being back here, so close to where her father had been murdered, she understood the knight well. Coming back to the place where a loved one died was never easy. If not for the dire circumstances, she would have never agreed to join the lord, but he had insisted. He was an ally to Maron Mullendore, a dangerous man in his own right, an enemy to Leonard, to Saerya, perhaps even to Jenna herself. And yet, in that moment, when he had asked her, she had seen true despair in his gaze. Pity had moved her. Tears welled up in her eyes, as she realized that her father would have done the same, even to his enemies. “Where to?”, Petyr hissed from atop his destrier. Jenna glanced down the fields. Her heart was breaking all again as her gaze wandered across the familiar landscape. This was her home, this had been where her parents had lived and died, where she and her brothers had grown up, had laughed and cried and loved. This was where Alan was now living. She had not seen her uncle since that day and she had no desire to ever do so. Luckily, she didn’t need to. “You should send one rider to the farmhouse”, she stated. “If Edith went there, she will be safe. For all his flaws, my uncle will treat her well” “Darren”, Petyr growled and Ser Darren gave him a nod. “If she isn’t there, I will catch up with you later”, he promised, as he gave his horse the spurs. Jenna looked after him, as he darted down the road. In the distance, just out of view behind a corner, there would be the small path leading up to the farmhouse. For all her grief with Alan, she dearly hoped that Edith had stumbled upon it. And yet, as she gazed to her left, to the vast, dark forest, she feared for the worst. “Two more riders to scout the fields south of the road”, she mumbled and Petyr followed her advice at once. “But if she wandered into the forest….” The lord caught her gaze and his expression sent a sting through her chest. How could it be that she felt pity for this man? No matter what he had done, right now she saw a father’s concern in his eyes. “We will find her”, she was quick to add. She did not mention how much the forest had changed in recent months. There was a darkness amidst the trees now, something that drove the local beasts into a frenzy. Her father had fought the beast before, the alpha wolf that was still at large. It was in there, in the vast forest beyond the Harking lands. Perhaps it had moved on, but then again, when had Jenna ever been that fortunate? “Of course we will”, Dustran Selwyn interjected. “How far could she have gotten?” He exchanged a glance with his younger brother, who did not share his oddly good mood. Derik shook his head. “She shouldn’t have wandered out of the keep at all. Mylord, are we sure we are looking for a kid that ran away?” Petyr narrowed his eyes. “What are you suggesting, Selwyn?”, he asked. Derik glanced at the fields, before his gaze wandered off towards the forest. “You have many enemies, Lord Petyr”, he explained. “If anyone truly desires to harm you…” Petyr cut him off. “No!”, the lord barked. “The guards have been clear. Edith walked out of the keep all on her own. She was not taken, if that’s what you’re suggesting” Derik shrugged. “She is nine years old, mylord”, he added. “I am a hunter. Usually I bait only animals, but I know how simple it can be to use similar tactics on people” He met Petyr’s gaze and Jenna tensed up as she thought about his implication. “All I’m saying is, it could be prudent to remain on our guard in there. If she isn’t alone, then this will get dangerous” Petyr narrowed his eyes, but after a moment of hesitation, he nodded in agreement. “Keep your swords at the ready”, he agreed. “Jenna, you stay close to me. Show us the way, but if things get heated, fall back. I will keep you safe” He gave her a kind smile and Jenna felt a lump in her throat. “I… yes, m’lord”, she confirmed. “Follow me” She began to ride not down the road, where Ser Darren had just vanished behind the corner of the road, but down the northern field. Her uncle had clearly not tended to the weeds as her father would have, for it was overgrown. And yet, she would have found the path through that field with her eyes closed. She used to walk here all the time, with her father, with her older brother. There was a small path into the forest here, leading all the way to the hamlet of Camberlyng two days to the far east, though she had never walked that far. “Hold it!”, Derik Selwyn exclaimed, as he sank from his horse onto the ground. Jenna’s gaze followed him, as he knelt down onto the ground, one hand hovering over the ground. “Footprints”, he spoke and his brother nodded in agreement, even if Jenna herself saw nothing there. The moment he heard this, Petyr descended from his destrier and walked up next to the kneeling man. It took him a bit longer and only after Derik pointed right at a spot on the ground that his eyes widened. “You’re right… by the Seven” “My brother is a decent hunter”, Dustran spoke up, but Derik did not react to the compliment. “Two sets of footprints”, the younger man continued. “Both fairly small, but one a bit larger. Walking side by side” He looked up and his gaze met Petyr’s, now not without confidence. “One of them was a child. Could have been your daughter”, he spoke and his gaze wandered down the trail towards the forest. “Something’s odd about those woods. What madness led her into that place?” “I did hear the strangest of rumours about those woods, mylord”, Hugo Farnham spoke up. “I paid them no mind at the time, but perhaps now it would be wise to be prudent” Petyr’s eyes widened, before he shook his head. “The footprints fit. Edith is in there”, he replied. “Now is not the time for caution!” With these words, he climbed back atop his destrier, while Jenna looked on in concern. He gave her a wordless nod and she understood. “This way, m’lord”, she mumbled, before she began to take the lead, down the trail and into the forest. With eight seasoned knights behind her, she knew she should feel safe. And yet, something was off the moment they stepped past the first trees. It was a bright day and birds were singing in the trees, while the sun pleasantly broke through the woods. By all means, she should have felt safe. And yet, something was off. She was not the only one who felt it, for Clover tensed up beneath her. Dustran Selwyn’s horse seemed to trouble him as well, for the knight gently patted the animal’s neck. “Easy, boy”, he whispered. “What’s gotten into you?” “Jenna…”, someone whispered and she tensed up. “M’lord?”, she asked, as she glanced at Petyr. But he hadn’t spoken a word since they entered the forest. He met her gaze with mild confusion. “Anything the matter, Jenna?”, he asked and she gulped. “Nothing…”, she replied quickly. “Must have been the wind” “Jenna Harking…”, the voice whispered again and this time, she was almost certain that it was not just an odd wind. “Are you hearing this?”, she asked and this time, Petyr gave her a surprised, genuinely concerned look. “Hear what?”, he asked. “Jenna, I need you to focus right now. My daughter might be in danger” “It’s…”, Jenna spoke, before she narrowed her eyes. She glanced around carefully, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She knew this forest, she had walked this path hundreds of times. It looked the same and yet, she felt something strange. A pull on her mind, almost like a headache. Instinctively, she slowed down, riding directly flanked by Petyr and Dustran now. Next to the two men, she felt a bit safer, but this feeling remained. “Something is strange”, she added. Petyr gave her a curious look, before placing one hand on the hilt of his sword. Following his example, Hugo Farnham outright drew his blade, nervously glancing around. They had pushed perhaps five dozen feet into the forest and already, when it happened. The birds, who had been pleasantly chirping just moments ago, stopped in unison. A wave of silence crashed over the riders and immediately, the horses went wild. Clover reared up and Jenna would have fallen if not for Petyr, who reached for the reigns, harshly pulling the mare down while somehow keeping his own destrier in line. Jenna clung to the horses neck, while behind her the men began to shout over their wildly neighing horses. Experienced riders as they all were, they managed to keep the animals in line, but Jenna utterly depended on Petyr holding the mare down. Her gaze met that of the lord, who had a baffled look on his face. “Hugo!”, he shouted. “Get her out of here. The rest has to push on!” And just then, something stepped out from between the trees. Clover had barely calmed down and the sight of this new animal nearly sent her into a frenzy anew. It was a wolf, a small, grey beast, panting heavily as it walked up to the middle of the road. Its head was lowered until then, but even though the way it moved was odd. Too calm, too slow, too indifferent to the dozen riders nearby. It was enough for the knights around her to draw steel. At the sound, the wolf looked up and Jenna gasped in sheer horror as she saw the animal more closely. It was a wolf, alright, looked the part quite well. And yet, the expression on its face was unlike anything she had ever seen in an animal. The fact that it had an expression at all was mortifying. The wolf opened its maw widely, baring its teeth in a twisted, hateful grin. She had seen that very same expression before, in the worst beast she had ever seen, the one who had left a permanent mark on her face. Her breath stopped within her throat, as she tried to yank Clover around the moment she recognized the look in the wolf’s eyes. He had the same look on his face all those months ago, back when he had pushed a knife against the side of her head. Before Petyr or the Selwyn brothers or Hugo or any of the others could react, all hell broke loose. The birds in the trees had stopped chirping, but they were not gone. At an unseen command, dozens of them began throwing themselves down at the knights, shrieking in fury. The grinning wolf threw its head back and let out a howl, one that was answered by a dozen more wolves nearby. A raven threw itself at Petyr, clawing at the lord’s face. With a muffled curse, he let go of the reigns while trying to protect himself. Next to her, Dustran Selwyn impaled a falcon on his sword, before a large grey wolf broke through the underbrush, fangs bared at his horses throat. She barely noticed that Derik Selwyn was thrown off the saddle as his horse broke through in a panic, while two other riders broke formation, trying to keep their steeds in line. “We need to get out of here!”, she yelled at the top of her lungs, trying to yank Clover around. But even though Petyr no longer held her reigns, the mare would not move. At least not in the direction Jenna desired. She looked down at the horse and just then, something within Clover’s gaze changed. In one moment, she looked at a gentle but terrified animal and in the next, something, someone else stared back at her, someone whom she knew all too well. She gasped in fear, recoiling back and nearly falling from the saddle. It was Clover herself who prevented her from doing any of this, as the horse chose this moment to move, but not backwards, not to the edge of the forest, where some riders tried to regroup as wolves and birds threw themselves at them. No, Clover darted forward in a full gallop, charging down the trail while Jenna screamed in horror, trying to pull the reigns but to no avail. The horse would not obey her one bit. Unable to do anything but cling to the charging steed and praying that she won’t get thrown off, Jenna threw one last, pleading look at Petyr, who had grabbed the raven with one gloved fist. He yelled something in her direction, but was barely able to keep his horse from panicking and in no position to follow after her. Just then, she passed the grinning wolf, who was sitting at the edge of the road, near the underbrush, watching, smiling and, yes, chuckling. Clover charged at full speed down the trail, before crashing through the underbrush. Jenna shrieked and pushed her face against the animal’s neck, as several sharp branched missed her by an inch. In its madness, the horse did not even care that twigs and branched cut through its warm fur, deep enough to draw blood. By now, Jenna was whimpering in fear, her eyes closed as she pressed herself against the frenzied animal. This was not happening, this could not be… For the first time since her father died, Jenna was well and truly terrified. Only that this time, a part of her wished for a sword such as Petyr’s. The frenzied ride came to a brutal stop when Clover reared up. Jenna threw her eyes open as she felt the warm animal beneath her stir. She grabbed onto the reigns even harder, but this time, the animal kicked back and Jenna could not hold onto them. Her world began to spin and with a scream, she crashed down, falling off the horse and onto the muddy ground. It was not a high fall, nor particularly hard, but she still groaned in pain, only to instinctively curl up when she saw the rearing horse above her. To her surprise, the animal calmed down almost immediately as soon as she had hit the ground. Calmly, gently, Clover looked around, spotting Jenna on the ground. She could see its eyes and they were entirely free of malice again. “Girl?”, Jenna whispered as she reached up to the horses nuzzle. They were in a clearing now, surrounded by a thick underbrush. She had never been to this place before, had no idea where in the forest Clover had taken her. The moment she touched the horse, Clover began to neigh in panic. A sudden gust of wind from the far end of the clearing, where dark trees cast thick shadows over the ground, hit Jenna and the horse. The latter reared up again, its hooves only barely missing the girl, before it spun around, charging back down where it came from. “Clover!”, Jenna yelled, as she jumped up from the ground. But it was to no avail. The horse was already gone. With wide, horrified eyes, Jenna turned around to the darkness ahead of her. Something stirred in there. She heard twigs breaking from there, as if something large was walking there, but whatever creature made these noises, it let out no further tone, no howling or growling. But she knew that she was being watched. “Four in”, a voice mumbled, soft but menacing. “One knife. Three to the block. Two out” It came not from the darkness ahead, but somewhere from her side and as Jenna looked into the direction, she suppressed a gasp as she saw a man standing there. A boy, more like, for her seemed slim and small, no bigger than she herself was. He was leaning against a tree, a wide-brimmed hat pulled over one side of his face. One cold, grey eyes was mustering her. “Two in”, he continued. “Sweet child. Sweet eyes. Two out” A smirk flashed across his face. “Dark. Wet. Scream”, he chuckled and Jenna began to back away from him. “Who are you?”, she gasped and the boy flinched. He had looked into her direction the entire time, but it seemed that he only now truly saw her. “You!”, he gasped. “You should not be here” He stepped into the light and this time, Jenna could see beneath the hat. She let out a stifled scream, as she saw his face. Part of it was missing, a huge, horrifying scar that had taken his entire cheek with it. She had heard tales of this man, of what he did in Raylansfair. “You are Kreep”, she realized and a wicked, but surprisingly genuine smile formed on the disfigured boys face. “Son of Wolfius” “I thought so as well”, Kreep confirmed, his eyes wide with madness. “But I am so much more” He came closer and she backed off slowly, especially as she noticed the knives that dangled from his belt. “And you are Jenna Harking!”, he exclaimed. “Father noticed you the moment you walked into his forest. He brought you here, you know. I think he wants to talk” “Wolfius… is here…”, Jenna gasped, as she stared into the darkness at the far end of the clearing. Kreep narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?”, he hissed and she recoiled in terror. The boy stopped and took a deep breath, his serene smile returning. “I am glad you came!”, he spoke. “Father told me so much about you. He left such a beautiful mark on your face and you one on his” He turned his head, so that Jenna could see the gruesome scar that had claimed most of the lower right half of his face. Up close, it seemed as if the flesh had been carved away, though it was clearly an old wound. “Someone left one on me as well, but yours is prettier” He grinned from ear to ear and up close, despite his disfigurement, she saw the resemblance to Wolfius. “Pretty little lamb”, he chuckled. In this moment, her gaze fell past Kreep towards the tree where he had been standing and she saw that he had not been alone. A second figure was crouching there, shivering in fear, a small, gentle girl who was staring at the disfigured man in open terror. Edith. Kreep followed her gaze. “Father is not feeling well”, he spoke. “The blacksmith nearly killed him and now he needs to rest. So I wanted to bring him a gift. The lordling’s daughter. It was so easy to lure her away. But father was not interested in playing. Not until you came” He gave her a genuine, but deeply disturbing smile. “I haven’t seen him this happy since the raid!” Edith looked up and straight at Jenna, her eyes wide with fear. “Jenna…”, she mumbled and something within Jenna stirred. She recognized that look, for she had seen the world with the very same fear for many years. She had been the timid, frightened child once and far too long. “You should be asleep, Edith girl”, Kreep intoned, but the moment he turned towards her, Jenna felt different. She felt anger. “Get away from her!”, she growled, as she tackled the small man to the ground. Kreep, who had obviously not expected anything like this, fell face first into the mud, his eyes wide with surprise. With a growl, Jenna punched him in the face. She knew she was not strong, nor skilled, but sheer anger alone was enough for her to land one decent hit against the disfigured man. Kreep groaned in pain, but before Jenna could push her advantage, she saw something that made the blood freeze in her veins. A wolf jumped out from the underbrush, a slightly larger, pale beast. Deep scars marred its face, having taken one of the beasts eyes, but the other was fixed, not on Jenna but on Edith. With a menacing snarl, it approached the child. Edith herself gasped in fear and on all fours she backed off, pressing herself against the tree behind her. “Edith!”, Jenna exclaimed, as she jumped up, letting go of her downed opponent. Without even thinking, she jumped between the girl and the wolf. The large animal stopped at once, its head lowered and its teeth bared. And yet, it did not come any closer as Jenna positioned herself between them. She knew she was not an impressive sight, but she stretched her back, spreading her arms, trying her utmost to make herself as large a threat as possible. “Back off!”, she barked. “Back off I say!” Her heart was beating furiously not just with anger, but also with more fear than she had ever felt in her life. All around her, she felt watched from the shadows. Birds in the trees glared down at her and the wolf in front of her, though not having the malevolent intelligence of Wolfius within it, was still a threat. For all her bravado, Jenna nearly would have fainted in fear when she felt something bumping into her, immediately followed by a soft squeeze on her waist, as Edith, having jumped up, pressed against her. “I’m scared…”, the girl sobbed. “Jenna, I want to go home now” “Are you hurt?”, she whispered and she felt Edith shaking her head against her back. “No…”, the girl stuttered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to go, but he promised…” She cut herself off and pushed her face deeper against Jenna’s back. “I am scared” Jenna wanted to admit the same, but she cut herself off. This little girl needed her. Right now, she had to be strong. At the very least, she had to be brave. With a groan, Kreep rose from the ground. “Ow…”, he spat. “That was not necessary. I told you, father does not want to play with the child. She is perfectly safe here. Well, until he gets bored of course, but she is safe for now. Such a sweet child… maybe he’ll even let her go” He moved the back of his hand to his nose, where a few drops of blood were visible now. His smile grew thinner. “He said you were a lamb, but is that true?”, he hissed. “You’re not a wolf in your own right, but still… are you truly the scared little lamb he described to me?” With a flick of his wrist, the wolf lowered its head. To Jenna’s surprise, it backed off. The moment however, when Kreep approached her, she reached down grabbing a branch from the ground and pointing it at him like a club. “Don’t come any closer!”, she hissed, praying deep down that Petyr would follow her. He had promised to protect her and here she was, all on her own, protecting his own flesh and blood instead. Kreep stopped dead in his tracks, his hands raised. “You are afraid of me?”, he asked. “Don’t be. I will not harm you. Even if, fear won’t help you. It won’t make you survive. Your fate is now in father’s hands” He threw his head back, a wide, gleeful smile on his face. “FATHER!”, he screamed at the top of his lungs and all around them, wolves responded by howling in unison. “FATHER! YOUR LAMB IS HERE!” More howling. More beasts shuffling in the underbrush around them. There was an entire pack of wolves here, larger than any she had ever seen. Kreep looked back at her, his face wide with glee. “He is coming”, he whispered and Jenna saw movement in the shadows at the far end of the clearing. “We need to run, sweet Edith”, she mumbled and the girl, still clinging onto her waist, tensed up at her words. Kreep tilted his head, shooting her a wide smile. “Perhaps you should”, he chuckled. “Father loves a good hunt” She shot him a glare and to her surprise, his expression cracked briefly. Beneath the glee at her situation, she spotted an odd look, as briefly his eyes widened. “The girl must run”, he pressed through his teeth and it was as if he had to force himself to utter these words. “Else he will kill her. I don’t want this, so please…” He looked from Jenna to Edith. “Run, little one. Flee for your life and maybe you can keep it” There was a howl from somewhere behind him, a deep, menacing sound and the beast that made it had to have been larger than any Jenna had ever encountered. Whatever it was, it rapidly came closer. “He’s right”, she hissed, as reluctantly, Edith let go of her. “You need to run, sweet Edith. Back to the trail. Your father is there, somewhere” She looked around and Edith stared up at her. “What about you?”, the girl whispered and to this, Kreep chuckled, snapping back into the same expression he held before, the one of murderous, mad glee. “You can run as well, lamb”, he offered. “As I said, father loves a good hunt” Instinctively, Jenna found herself backing off. Edith was ready to run, thankfully. And yet, Jenna could still feel the wolf’s eyes on her. She was being watched. Every fiber of her body screamed at her to run, to flee with Edith and to try and find Petyr. And yet, she feared for Edith’s life even more than for her own. If she’d run now, what guarantee was there that the wolves would not catch up with them both? Perhaps, she realized, this was the time where she had to stand her ground. To stay and distract the beasts, as her father had done. [Flee with Edith] [Stand your ground]
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Post by drdestroyer18 on Apr 7, 2024 21:04:01 GMT
[Ask for more time to consider] [Stand your ground]
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Post by GMS Freeman on Apr 14, 2024 5:36:34 GMT
[Ask for more time to consider]
[Stand your ground]
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Post by InGenNateKenny on Apr 16, 2024 1:21:28 GMT
[Ally with the Tom] Alliances can be broken, and...well, you put these two chapters together, and probably to reinforce how awful Wolfius is. Wolfius, who we have not seen in years. It almost seems too obvious a choice...I'll take the bait, if only to see where it goes.
[Flee with Edith] I am reminded of one of my favorite YouTube videos, "Some guy yells at some cats": RUN! FUCKING RUN! YAH! We wouldn't want make Wolfius unhappy, now would we? Just run girl, it won't be too bad if you die, you're Jenna after all.
We always know that smile!
I can see why you have looked forward to this part. The birds going quiet and then attacking, that's very creepy. Kreep...not as creepy as I remember, interestingly. What's the word...enigmatic? I guess he was kind of like this before. Also, Fang-Moggy-Wolfius lore. Maybe we knew some of this stuff but it's good to have it. And Lupin, ah Lupin. So many psychos, Raylansfair has always been a nexus for them.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Apr 16, 2024 17:05:48 GMT
[Ally with the Tom] Alliances can be broken, and...well, you put these two chapters together, and probably to reinforce how awful Wolfius is. Wolfius, who we have not seen in years. It almost seems too obvious a choice...I'll take the bait, if only to see where it goes. [Flee with Edith] I am reminded of one of my favorite YouTube videos, "Some guy yells at some cats": RUN! FUCKING RUN! YAH! We wouldn't want make Wolfius unhappy, now would we? Just run girl, it won't be too bad if you die, you're Jenna after all. We always know that smile! I can see why you have looked forward to this part. The birds going quiet and then attacking, that's very creepy. Kreep...not as creepy as I remember, interestingly. What's the word...enigmatic? I guess he was kind of like this before. Also, Fang-Moggy-Wolfius lore. Maybe we knew some of this stuff but it's good to have it. And Lupin, ah Lupin. So many psychos, Raylansfair has always been a nexus for them. Aye, that was the reason indeed! After several chapters of absence (seriously, the last time he appeared in person was during Lyria's final part), we'll be entering a Wolfius arc in Raylansfair, with everyone's favourite deranged skinchanging serial killer making his grand return. Time for me to really drive it home that this guy is awful. Although this part kinda confirmed that he used to be a somewhat decent-ish man, to the point where I'd say that the old Wolfius, the one the Tom spoke of here, was the best among them by far. We'll learn more about what happened to turn him from the man he used to be into the insane monster he is now. Aye, making Wolfius unhappy is a sure way to die. On the opposite, entertaining him is often the best way to keep him in check, because that's when he starts to get sloppy. Jenna has hands-on experience when it comes to surviving Wolfius, so she'd know. We'll see how that works out, but her next part will be one of my highlights of this chapter. Seriously though, an animal absolutely not acting like an animal to the point where it has human-like facial expressions is something that sounds cute in cartoons, but in a realistic setting it is my personal nightmare fuel. Oooh yes, I was looking forward for this one! This and Jenna's next part will be some of my personal highlights in this chapter (though the biggest ones, including the chapter finale, will take us to the Riverlands). I am glad this part delivered on the creepiness! Ironically, Kreep is less creepy than his name implies. He is fully obedient to Wolfius, he is dangerous and unstable in his own right, but if left to his own devices he's actually more of a damaged loner than a fully-blown monster like his father. Not damaged in the same way as Kersea or Ryler or Lucia, where they can still function in normal society and probably reform with enough patience, but he is by no means as horrible as his father. Sure, he's rabid, he killed people and there's probably no way he doesn't have to be put down in the end, but there is a bit of a tragic element to him as well. You may not fully remember that, but during Lyria's final part he even showed genuine discomfort at the torment Wolfius was inflicting on her and Rosalie. He's this unsettling, enigmatic sidekick to the way greater monster. Eh, bits and pieces have been revealed before, but I found it fitting for the one guy who really knows all of their backstory to sum things up to Arthur once more. And yeah, Raylansfair is really not giving off any good vibes when it comes to those serial killes all around. Lupin is reportedly the worst of them, but I let you be the judge of that once he finally appears in a later chapter! Personally, I'd say the worst guy got offed in his introductory chapter. Remember Otis Shiff? Super unsettling guy who only killed children and got his head kicked in by Marak in Chapter 7. Even Wolfius would consider that guy distasteful.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Apr 16, 2024 17:19:30 GMT
Ah, so the voting is not yet closed if anyone else would like to chime in with their vote, but I have an announcement that I am so excited for that I'm not going to wait any longer. I have finally posted the first part of the long-teased remastered version of Forum of Thrones! Originally this was meant to be released last year and I briefly considered waiting until the end of this year, which marks FoT's tenth anniversary (I really need to think of something else for that XD), but honestly, I see no reason to hold this off any longer. While I am not going to change any major plot points or rewrite entire paragraphs (unless those paragraphs did not age well and there's really no way for me to salvage them), I will clean things up, fix any error that slipped through the early parts and I will add a few lines here and there to expand the context in certain scenes and to make things more cohesive with later parts. The prologue part is a good example of that, as I have added a few subtle things. In no particular order they are as follows: - I added a line that confirms Harris has grown up at Lord Raylan's court, something that was stated way later in the story, and that Eaton has taught him all he knew.
- I added a brief mention of Lucas and Leonard, who have not been mentioned in the prologue even when I should have done so. Fun fact, in a veeery early draft Leonard was actually supposed to take on Harris' rather shady role in the prologue, I even wrote scenes for that but later cut them in order to include Harris as an early antagonist, while having Leonard as a more heroic character and foil to Lucas.
- I shortened Lord Robert's final words. Instead of telling Eaton that his sister Morna had loved the maester, I moved that reveal (with some added self-loathing from Eaton who failed to save her life) to the maester's inner thoughts before reaching his dying lord, confirming that he had always known about her feelings.
- I outright changed a small detail about Halleck Hoare having been the one to torture Robert Raylans brother to death, that does not fit with his later characterization as a fairly mild and civilized Ironborn. Instead, then-prince Harren Hoare is behind Trystrane Raylans death now to remain consistent with his and his father's personalities.
- I expanded on Clayton's appearance in the prologue. While writing that part, I left the identity of the killer deliberately vague, so that potentially a user-submitted character could fill that role. Clayton was submitted about six weeks later and I then wrote him as the killer who murdered Robert and Eaton. This remastered part includes an early glimpse at his appearance to make things more consistent with his first 'proper' appearance in Kersea's storyline.
- I also added some more detail to Eaton's final moments, including confirmation that Clayton had no idea what Dairon was supposed to deliver to Oldtown (quite a mistake on his part, but he is not perfect) and some minor banter between him and the maester.
- Perhaps the most important change and that is something that actually has not been planned at all until well into Book 1, is that Clayton now answers Eaton's question about who hired him. Of course, his answer is not written down, but considering he mentions three names, this should make the later reveal that Maron, Petyr and Devrin Oakheart are plotting together a lot more organic.
- And of course I cleaned up some dialogue, chose better wording and outright rewrote certain sentences to fit the tone of the scene better. The part is still fundamentally unchanged, but expanded and fittingly enhanced.
You can expect future parts to be changed in the same way. I will remove some continuity errors (such as Harlan wrongly being called Harren's thirdborn son in the very early parts), add some details here and there (for example the Greyjoy siblings, Maron Mullendore or Harrick Hoare will all be mentioned way earlier), flesh out a few reactions that should provide additional context and I will sprinkle in a few details to give each PoV a more unique feel befitting of their personality, without ever actually changing a plot point, a character dynamic or anything major like that.
Now, the plan right now is to release one remastered part a day (unless I have a busy day on the job) until we reach the end of Chapter 2 of Book 2 and while most of them will feature changes as the ones detailed above I will not mention these details as I do here unless I consider them important. Starting with Chapter 3, all parts are already here and especially the later parts won't need much clean-up. One thing I am going to do though is, I will remove the choices from these remastered parts, as they have been decided upon by you years ago. This also means I will sometimes unite certain parts that have been split by choices, which should in some ways change the way the storylines progress. In other parts, I will write a few entirely new paragraphs that detail the choice the PoV in question is going to make. All this should make for a much cleaner re-read and a much cleaner and easier way for new readers to catch up. Upcoming parts will, of course, feature choices as always, it is a huge part of FoT and one I will never remove as long as I have even just one active voter. On the topic of new readers, I have decided to follow up on some advice a reader gave me a while ago. Starting today, I will cross-post the remastered parts on other forums, namely spacebattles, sufficientvelocity and alternatehistory, the three big fanfiction forums out there. That is something I should have done years ago, to be honest. I don't really know if my writing can hold up to some of the insanely well-written stories over there, but FoT has brought me and you a lot of joy for close to a decade now and I figured that maybe others will enjoy it as well, especially now that I have smoothed out some of the early roughness (much as I actually liked the early-days FoT roughness). So, I will cross-post every remastered part on these three forums and maybe even attract new readers to Creator's Haven. These new readers can create characters as well to appear in the upcoming parts of Book 2 and 3, but of course they won't be making any choices until the remastered parts have caught up to the story (which I, of course, will continue to write in the meantime). I'm curious how this will go. What does this mean for FoT on Creator's Haven? Absolutely nothing will change at all! New parts as you like them with choices and all will continue to be posted here first, in this thread until the end of Chapter 4 and on newer threads once we reach that spot. There is no need to be worried, for new parts of FoT will appear on Creator's Haven as usual, with me beginning to write the next one as soon as I finished the Dark Eye part I am currently writing. If anything, I hope that my increased engagement with the old parts serves as inspiration for the newer parts, so I have the reasonable hope that I will be able to write new parts faster and with regained passion for writing in general. Seriously, this prologue part alone has done wonders with curing my writer's block. I will also do the same for The Dark Eye. Next time I close the voting for FoT in a couple of days, I will include links to the new threads, so if you are active in these other forums, by any means you're welcome to say hi and join on that journey as well if you like! You won't be missing out on anything though, because the rewritten parts will be posted here at the same time. Most importantly, I hope you are as excited to revisit these old parts with me as I am and I hope that for as many amazing readers as we have lost over the years, that those of you still around continue to enjoy the parts ahead, because let me assure you, the best is yet to come. Just writing this makes me giddy with excitement, because my plans for the next few chapters and especially for some highlights in Book 3 should easily be among the best moments in the entire story. Consider this me doing right by those who stuck with me for all these years and by myself for a story I have poured too much of my heart into to just let it fizzle out with bimonthly parts. For now, here is a quick link to the new thread containing the remastered prologue and where the remastered Chapter 1 of Book 1 will also be posted. Enjoy! creators-haven.boards.net/thread/457/book-chapter-dark-wings-words
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Apr 21, 2024 19:58:02 GMT
The Voting is closed!
Arthur is going to ask for more time to consider
Jenna is going to stand her ground Especially the second one was a very crucial choice, which is why I have kept this one open a little bit longer, because the consequences... oh boy, you'll see, with the alternate choices at the latest Arthur's choice meanwhile was in part character building, as this will make him more hesitant to actually fully work with those masked psychopaths, even if it is against a common and very dangerous enemy. The next part will be out probably tomorrow. I have finished an Ilish part and am currently writing a Raenna part as well, meaning we'll get back to Oldtown and beyond the Wall. Last time we have seen Ilish was quite some time ago. Back then, she and her companion Lawsen, both on the run from a Night's Watch recruiter who wanted to take Lawsen in for desertion, sought refuge in Oldtown, where they made the acquaintance of a certain Vogero Forios, a charming but shady man who works with Robert Tavner, an elusive crimelord who stepped up now that the Burned Man and Butterfly are out of the picture. Noticing Ilish's talent for petty thievery, Vogero offered her what essentially amounts to a job interview with his business partner. Ilish accepted, Lawsen refused, so the next part will see her encountering the elusive crimelord Tavner and I have not been that excited for a character introduction in quite some time as I am with that guy. Meanwhile, Raenna and her group started their journey beyond the Wall to search for the missing Umber brother Kory. There, Raenna quickly realized that they were being followed by a wildling girl. Opting not to take any risks, Raenna laid a trap for the girl and managed to catch her. As it turned out, the girl was actually bit older than expected, being nearly a woman grown, a wildling spearwife in the making. Named Kaya, she cooperated with her captors to some degree and delivered exposition about the situation behind the wall, where the mighty and feared chieftain Horik Half-Thenn entered into an alliance with the equally feared Agmun Icebeard to unite the free folk. Only the powerful chieftain Red Ragnar stands in his way for now. Horik Half-Thenn is also their only lead to find Kory Umber. After some consideration, Raenna decided to take Kaya with them, against the will of their Night's Watch guides, who see her as a potential threat. On other notes, as mentioned above, I have begun to rewrite the older FoT parts, sharing them here and on other forums where I hope to spread word about this story. These forums are, namely spacebattles, sufficientvelocity and alternatehistory, probably the three largest fanfiction communities out there. So far, reception has been positive. As I said above, new parts will continue to come out here in time, probably a lot more often than they did during the last year and my current goal is to release remastered parts every day or every two days, meaning it should be a pretty active time for FoT coming up. I will share the links to the other forums here, you are welcome to check them out and say hi, but be assured that everything I write over there will be posted here first, including the remastered parts in their respective threads, meaning you won't miss a thing by staying here instead. The remastered finale of Chapter 1 will actually be posted later today. I hope you enjoyed the parts I reposted so far, I am quite happy with it at least. Here's the links: www.alternatehistory.com/forum/threads/forum-of-thrones-an-interactive-story.552758/forums.spacebattles.com/threads/forum-of-thrones.1157269/forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/forum-of-thrones-an-interactive-story.129895/Also, of course, a new vote closed means more character portraits! I hope you all enjoyed the last ones, because these have been so much fun to create. This time, we got the Black of Heart edition, featuring an ensemble of prominent Ironborn aligned with House Hoare (allegedly in at least one case), all of them dark-haired and with one or two exceptions reasonably handsome. These will also be posted in the art thread, but here they are as well beneath a spoiler, I hope you enjoy them! Harren Hoare First, of course, there must be the Black himself, Harren of House Hoare, King of the Isles and the Rivers. He is without a doubt a shitty king and an even shittier father, a cruel ruler, neglectful parent who raised three psychopaths and as Maron Mullendore's benefactor he is chiefly behind pretty much every bad thing that happened in Book 1. So, while Maron and Petyr are arguably the main villains (and both will receive appropriately amazing portraits soon), Harren is, in trope speak, the Greater Scope Villain of this story. It also took me an ungodly amount of attempts to create a portrait with a scar that resembles Harren's glasgow grin even though the AI hates generating gore. The result made him look a bit younger than he actually is, he is around sixty years old, but since he has canonically full black hair (and at least two very handsome sons) I suppose he just has good genes. Harmund Hoare Next, there is, of course, Crown Prince Harmund Hoare, proud owner of Westeros' most puncheable face. He is a cruel sociopath and undoubtedly the worst Hoare alive. Seriously, Harren is a brutal but relatively pragmatic monster, but Harmund is reckless, overconfident and knows no limits to his cruelty. Without his abuse, Harndon and especially Harlan would have turned out somewhat decent, so in a way you can all thank him for messing his brothers up that badly. In all seriousness, I consider Harmund the most irredeemable character in a story filled with complete monsters and that says a lot about how depraved he can get. The worst part about him? He can be charming, he can get along with others, this is not another Wolfius who comes across as creepy even when trying to act normal. Nope, Harmund can turn it off and blend in perfectly. Dude's the worst. Harlan Hoare Coming next in our line of black-hearted Hoares is the second prince, Harlan. Harlan's entire existence can be summed up as second-place. He is a sadist, but Harmund is worse. He is crazy, but Harndon is worse. He is actually making some effort to be politically active and mend the bridges between the kingdom's two people, but Harrick is way more competent at that than him. It is easily overlooked, but there is one genuinely positive trait where Harlan outshines his entire family: He can be likeable. When removed from Harmund's toxic influence, Harlan actually has a very easy time forming bonds and getting along with others. Sure, he's messed up but we can thank Harmund for that as well. Harlan would have always been a somewhat dumb bully at his best, but in the right environment he could have been a somewhat decent person. Harndon Hoare Fourth, the third prince, Harndon Hoare. A tragic dude, really, because Harmund and Harlan really messed him up and nearly getting his skull cracked in by Damon Greyjoy certainly did not help his sanity. Had he grown up in a stable, loving environment, he would have been a better man by far. Don't let his seemingly innocent face fool you, Harndon is an unstable madman, so bad that even Harren himself saw fit to remove him from the line of succession. There are people who support Harmund for crown prince, there are others who want Harrick to take the throne after his father and even a few who support Harlan because he is easily manipulated, but Harndon is so messed up that nobody in their right mind would ever support him. Seriously, he is one mess of a person. Harrick Hoare Finally, Harrick Hoare, the only decent Hoare brother, a kid with whom Harren made some conscious effort to give him a stable, nurturing environment and, look at that, he turned out more than decent. Harrick is well-spoken, diplomatic, charming, perhaps a slight bit arrogant and aloof, but eh, he's basically a saint compared to his brothers. With him as king and without the conquest happening, it stands to reason that Hoare control over the Riverlands could have been stabilized. Alas, he is third in line to the throne and very unlikely to ever become king, not that he would not desire this very much. Kyra likes him, he likes her a bit more, which causes no small troubles between her and her brother. All in all, a decent guy who just so happens to be loyal to the wrong family. Kyra Greyjoy Next in line, our main Ironborn PoV, Kyra Greyjoy, the Laughing Kraken in the flesh! She can be sweet, she can be charming, but that woman is dangerous as well, having led men into battle for over a decade despite her young age. She earned her nickname for enjoying battle and bloodshed a little bit too much, but all things considered she is the closest thing the Hoare-aligned characters have to a protagonist, because she's not even nearly as bad as the rest of them. Like Harrick, she's a decent person who just so happens to be loyal to the wrong people. In her case, she is torn between loyalty to the king who supported her despite her age and gender (a kindness from Harren that should not be overlooked) and loyalty to her beloved brother who has always protected her. There's also her complicated feelings towards Harrick and Garthon, the latter of whom is hiding in the keep she is currently marching against. Too much drama for a girl who would much rather spend her days killing, feasting and drinking and living the good life. Damon Greyjoy With the Laughing Kraken comes the Ghost of Pyke, Lord Captain Damon Greyjoy. A very dangerous, very enigmatic and terrifying man who nearly killed Harndon Hoare to defend his sister. Somehow, he survived the king's justice with a few years of exile and somehow he managed to worm himself into a position of power once he returned, becoming Lord Captain to replace his older brother, who had been badly injured in a freak accident. Hmmm, certainly a lucky coincidence. Damon is almost as bad as Harren Hoare, a ruthless and pragmatic killer who just so happens to direct his ambition against people who thoroughly deserve it. Genuinely loves his sister, but is not above manipulating her as well. Also, he has in my honest opinion, without a doubt the best portrait the AI has created so far (perhaps tied with Argella and Emphryus Dresfel, both of whom I will share next), because just look at that! Seriously, the two Greyjoy portraits turned out incredibly fine and I hope you enjoy them as much as I do. Gravven Drumm Coming after the Greyjoys, Kyra's loyal second-in-command Gravven Drumm. The Butcher of Old Wyk as he is called is a true ride-or-die bro. He is fun at parties, he is fun in combat and probably Kyra's best and most loyal friend. A quintessential Ironborn raider who found himself stuck in a middle management position working for a woman he greatly admires who in turn is working for a king he is, at best, indifferent towards. Has already caught up on her torn loyalties, with his own stance on the topic rather murky. As much as he dislikes the Hoares, Gravven is not a rebel and should Kyra decide to support Damon in full it remains to be seen whose side he will take. Also owns the coolest sword in the entire story, whicht he AI unfortunately failed to draw, a red Valyrian steel longsword with the crossguard shaped like finger bones. Really cool guy whom I hope to show more of in Kyra's upcoming parts. Cleaver Clint Volmark Following Gravven is none other than good old Cleaver Clint Volmark, a character whom I created on the fly and who turned out to be stupid amounts of fun to write about, because he is so over the top evil that he got right back to being hilarious. There is really not much depth to him, he has zero redeeming qualities whatsoever, he was never meant to become a big presence in the storyline and he certainly deserved his death at the hands of Hjalgar after previously taking an ungodly amount of punishment in his fight with Garthon, but he was so crazy fun that I find myself missing that brute. Thankfully I have enough lovely characters to write about instead, but Cleaver will always have a special spot in my heart. Durren Stallhart And last, but certainly not least, a surprising fan favourite and a character who grew on me over the years, Durren Stallhart, tied with Ser Emphryus for the title of biggest badass in Westeros and proud owner of the best facial hair in Westeros. The mighty walrus is a horrifyingly competent warrior, a brutal raider and near-unstoppable juggernaut who despite his limited appearances has surely made his presence known. Sadie lost a hand to him, he personally killed two secondary characters whom I would have loved to write more about, but all things considered Durren is not that bad of a guy. He's a surprisingly pragmatic, reasonable and decent example of an Ironborn raider who still follows the old way. Also, fun fact, the AI had incredible problems with this guy, to the point where I spent an unreasonable amount of time on this character. He has a walrus mustache and his armour has tusks on it, so of course the AI always drew him as a weird walrus-human hybrid. I eventually had to avoid using the term walrus at all. Instead, when it came to his facial hair I merely said that he looks like Friedrich Nietzsche, the Über-Mustache himself, and look at that, it immediately generated this beautiful portrait. I suppose god is dead and so is every character who decides to face Stallhart in combat.
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