ToG — Legacy Forums — Strolen's Citadel

Re: ToG

#41

Katrina listened to the exchange of words intently, crouching comfortably in the darkness, quietly relieved they had yet to be noticed by the new comers.

She gave Rheyna a brief smile of reassurance, her eyes glinting in the moonlight. Reaching out she gave her hand a gentle squeeze, were violence to erupt they would have the element of surprise at least; and the addition of horse would make the remainder of their journey far more bearable.

Re: ToG

#42

Kat, Rheyna, Odrin

The two riders paused to consider Odrin's words. Perhaps they had seen the rotting horse and---

"He asked you from where you ha--" Shrill began to reprimand Odrin, but the one called Dagmer interrupted.

"We are Ironborn of the Iron Isles, sworn to Asha Greyjoy and we have taken Moat Caillin and Torren's Square besides, and we'll take the rest of the your North as well, while your wolves are busy fighting lions!"

Dagmer grinned impressed with himself, and seemed to expect Odrin to be as well.

"But you are no peasant, with an axe like that. Who are you?"

Before Odrin could answer (or not answer) Shrill piped in again.

"We're looking for Salt-Wives, know where we can find any? Killing northmen makes me want to wet my rod, and we've heard whispers on the road, whispers of young girls." Shrill grinned and squinted, looking about, then looked back at Odrin to gauge the big man's reaction.

Re: ToG

#43

Belomas looked up at the - tradesman perhaps? - with an appraising eye. He nearly missed Velaquo's reaction, but carried on with the new comer.

"Please, let me finish here and then afterwards we can discuss this matter. I may be able to help.."

He had seen this before - would have been hard not to in court - and it rarely ended well. He was more interested in Velaquo's reaction.

Re: ToG

#44

Odrin pointedly ignored the smaller man, focussing his attention instead on Dagmar.

"What you do in the north, Iron Man, is your business. Wolves, lions, salt-women -- they are no concern of mine. For I am Odrin, of the free city of Novros."

Odrin rose to his full height then, looking the mounted men nearly in the eye. Then, with deliberate calmness, he rested a hand on Ashreaver where she lay beside him.

"And the only wife I claim is my axe."

Re: ToG

#45

Kat, Rheyna, Odrin

Shrill looked surprised (truth be told, his eyes went wide with a wee bit o’fear in them) as he watched Odrin rise to his full height, but Dagmer remained calm.

Shrill backed up his horse as it snorted; Dagmer’s hand went for his sword.

“Norvos”, Dagmer spat the name as if tasted sour.

Shrill hesitated only a few moments longer than Dagmer, before he ripped his sword free of its scabbard.

“Kill him, Dagmer!” Shrill shrilled, “Make that axe a widow!”

There was little left to say after that.

(ooc: Odrin gets first attack)

Re: ToG

#46

“Kill him, Dagmer! Make-”

The rest of his sentence was ignored by Kat, as she took a half step from behind the wagon, determination replacing any feelings of fear or hesitation, raising her bow to unleash the first arrow towards Shrill's open mouth; confident Odrin could more then handle a single combatant on his own.

"Perhaps this will shut your cock hole." The words left her lips as the arrow sprang forth from the bow with a barely audible twang, the razored tip glinting in the moonlight as it sped towards the iron mans face

Re: ToG

#47

Peaking around the other side of the wagon, blade between her fingers Rheyna quickly made an attempt to assess the situation.

A split second later she sent the first of her knives at Dagmars leg. Intending to wound, rather than kill, thus making the work easier for her companion, and her saviour.

Re: ToG

#48

So much for that.

He needed to take control of the situation, fast, before the other riders noticed them. Spinning Ashreaver into his hands, he began a very familiar dance -- this time focused on unhorsing Dagmar. A sidestep here, good. Turn to dodge the stallion's flashing hooves. A pause. Then he spun her up in a graceful arc, sending his axe whistling towards the iron man's face.

Re: ToG

#49

Velaquo washed the opulent meal down with ale, and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.
Absent-mindedly, he stabbed the long knife he had been using to carve up a leg of pork into the table, an inch from the bothersome patron's crotch.
"The Maester's not seeing patients today."

With the friendliest of smiles, he sat at Quills' table, and offered a seat to Belomas.
The paymaster's suprise was twofold - his captain was alive and kicking, escaped from impossible odds, unrelenting in his vigor; the second was a shock. For, when a paymaster deems his captain and comrades dead, isn't he the master of all the pay? All the shiny coins to do as he say?

"Belomas, I am delighted to introduce you to my right hand, the most trustworthy man of all, a paragon of honesty, merchant's skill and loyalty - Yanek 'Shavecoins' Quills."
The paymaster nodded - he had some uncertainty whether he indeed possessed these attributes, but Velaquo's tone suggested being a paragon of honesty would be a wise thing to do.

"Bless the Fates for your appearance, friend - you have lifted my spirit. Praytell, how has our company fared since that fateful day, a month ago?"

Re: ToG

#50

Belomas took the proffered seat, and in a quiet aside to Velaquo, "Our partnership will be a short one if you presume to speak for me. I'll not meddle in your affairs so long as you respect mine."

He may be unemployed, but he was no base servant.

He then listened to hear the fate of Velaquo's company.

Re: ToG

#51

"Friend - you have to make your service seem valuable, not something offered to every vagrant immediately upon asking. I thought you would like to be protected, and have me keep base scum away.
Also, if you tolerate drunkards shoving their crotch into your face whenever they feel like it, soon your vision will be obscured by a sea of cock."
He laughed, then shook his head, still smiling.
"I would have to be a fool to disrepect you - a Maester's chain is hard earned, unlike the titles of lords, the inheritance of merchants. Harder earned as a mercenary's coin, at times."

Upon saying 'coin', he turned back to Quills again. Smiling.

Re: ToG

#52

The Chained Man (Korley)

He was near death and broken, his ruined lungs causing him to spit up phlegm and blood with every ragged breath. The pain in his limbs at least was of little concern now, as he felt nothing but numbness after weeks of torture in the rank dungeons of Maester Qyburn.

The man felt little, though sensed his own movement, as he was carried in chains, by a hulking gaoler up from the crypts of King’s Landing, and into the chamber where young King Joffrey's Small Council held its meetings.

His eye lids were closed, but he could smell the perfume and the wine, as he was unceremoniously shoved to the floor upon his entry.

His once shining shaven pate was filthy with soot, blood and dirt, and his once ferocious beard was shorn unevenly to further humiliate him.

The man simply waited to die.

“Who is this?” came the venomous voice of Cersei Lannister, as she scrunched her nose at the man’s odor.

“Once, he was one of the feared Bearded Priests of Norvos, daughter. Now, he is no one.” Came her father’s calm reply.

“He smells awful for a no one” piped in Tyrion between gulps of Dornish red.

“We are supposed to be planning Joffrey’s wedding father” said Cersei evenly.

“I do believe that father has something else on his mind at the moment, sweet sister” Tyrion chided.

“Quiet, both of you” came Tywin Lannister’s reply. “Joffrey’s wedding will proceed as planned, but there is a new thorn in our boot, and I mean to remove it. Now this retch will spin us a yarn, and you would be wise to be attentive to his tale.”

"Will he speak of fire and blood from the east? Will he speak of dragons and slave-armies?" Tyrion asked casually, sensing where this was going.

"No. The threat of which he will speak, is much closer to our shores. Much closer.

An hour later....

"Will you send the Mountain, father?"

"No, the Mountain is otherwise engaged, on my commands. I will send a Hill instead", finally Lord Tywin Lannister allowed himself a smile at his own clever jape.

"Take this....away" he eyed the chained man on the floor for the last time, gesturing to a servant, "And send in my brother's able bastard."

Re: ToG

#53

Velaquo and Belomas

Quills had a look on his face that seemed to suggest that the paymaster wished he had picked a different tavern this night.

“The Seven be good, you live, Captain!!—I—You--” he said, attempting to regain some composure. Maester Belomas noted that this man seemed as uncomfortable speaking as the petitioner with Syphilis was at their table moments ago.

"But how? We heard you went overboard. Some said they saw you wrestling a shark down to the very depths of the Narrow Sea!"

Pause

“The company? Many dead, many more scattered to the winds, or the waves, as it were. Those d**nable, treacherous Lyseni, eh? Who knew Pentos would align themselves with---“

He paused yet again, taking a breath, then a sip of his wine.

“The fates, nay, the very gods, were against us that day. And you know me Captain, to die with a perky breast in my hand, not a sword, is my motto.

Once the tide of battle turned, I--we, took a sloop with Brown-Bull Ballard, and Harrys Hart, and Rolly Razors and some of the others, in order to secure the very same coin about which you now inquire. I always remembered what you said to me, that day years ago in Braavos. Quills, you said, if the battle looks grim, yer' sole job is to save the coin!”

More wine sipping from his goblet again. He glanced at Velaquo then glanced at the Maester, as if unsure if he should proceed with more sensitive details.

First rule of bean-spilling, don’t spill ‘em all at once.

Belomas watched the proceedings with a stoic look, but was fascinated, truth be told. It seemed Velaquo's men feared their general. Or at least this one did. Now.

Re: ToG

#54

Kat, Rheyna, Odrin

If possible, Shrill's eyes went even wider when Kat stepped from behind the wagon and fired. She missed his head, but the razor-sharp shaft buried itself in the Ironman's gut, as his horse bucked and snorted. For a moment, sword still in hand, Shrill gazed at the shaft protruding from his belly in surprise, then started kicking his horse to run, though it pained him greatly to do so.

Dagmer was agile for his size, and quicker than Odrin had anticipated.

But one other thing. It seemed to Odrin that Dagmer was not a horseman. He had no way of knowing this, but the men of the Iron Islands were never comfortable atop a horse. Fighting on a ship's deck, tossing in the waves? There's your man. But horse-back, the Iron men faltered.

Yet the dance remained.

Odrin feigned, then side-stepped a predictable hoof-flailing, but a reach and swing from Dagmer's sword nicked Odrin's shoulder, cutting him in a mist of blood. The wound was a minor one though, and now Odrin swung in turn, his axe missing Dagmer's face, but chopping off the Ironman's left arm above the elbow, chain-links be d**ned.

At the same time, Rheyna's knife flew like a bird, a momentarily flick, a flash of metal in the moonlight, and now Dagmer's thigh sported four inches of steel.

A grunt escaped his clenched jaw.

Now blood gushing from his shoulder, Dagmer roared with fury, but lost his balance and toppled from his horse.

He did not get up immediately, but still had fight in him, it seemed, rising to a knee, and seething at Odrin.

Re: ToG

#55

To the side, Odrin and Rheyna's battle raged against the second foe, the sight of the iron man collapsing all Kat needed to see to convince her the fight didn't warrant further attention as the fleeing man lashed at his horses flanks with a mailed fist, the other clutching his leaking guts.

If that mouthy prick gets away he'll come riding back here with his four butt buddies.

The sentence ran through her mind as she readied a second arrow, adjusting for the evening breeze and aiming for the sweet spot at the back of the mans head, where the skull met the neck, a few inches below the helmet line.

"If I can't shut your cock hole from the front, i'll do it from behind." She grinned wryly at her impromptu joke, taking a half breath, holding it, and letting the feathered shaft of death speed towards its final resting place.

Re: ToG

#56

Kat

The horse kept going, but Shrill did not, slumping backwards and to the ground with a heavy thud, as another arrow pierced the back of his neck. He would die with no last words. The Crannogmen had taught Kat well.

Re: ToG

#57

Korley ate the olives slowly, and drank several rounds of what he supposed was wine, or beer. It was meager stuff anyhow. He was turning something over in his mind, why would a Gargalen be summoned to his father's presence. The Gargalens were a footnote to the Lannisters, they had no great secrets, no great number of soldiers or anything else of interest or value to the family. That meant that this midden heap of a human was either an envoy or had important information to share, commodities that would vanish if he died.

"Will he live?" Korley asked, looking at the bloody handed men who had been working on Rufus' injuries. "If he does I will make sure you are compensated."

Re: ToG

#58

Korley and Rufus

"He will" answered a man, bloody up to his elbows, who was working on Gargalen's seeming corpse. "But he won't be going off to any battles anytime soon. He has lost so much blood", the man shook his head slightly in disbelief, "He'll live though", he repeated as if to convince himself, "I don't think any major organs were pierced. We'll know soon enough. Tough as an ox this one."

At the the mention of compensation, he redoubled his efforts, on the unconscius Gargalen.

-------------

An hour later, Ser Rufus opened his watery eyes, saw his "killer" calmly eating across the taproom, and belched up some dried globs of blood.

Korley was almost done with his roast capon now. Good timing. He was anxious to reach King's Landing, which was less than a day's ride away.

Re: ToG

#59

"Grab his horse, child!" Odrin called urgently to Rehyna. If the fight lasted much longer, it would surely draw the attention of the other riders, and Odrin would prefer not to be here when they came back.

Keeping his body as a shield between Dagmar and Rehyna's hiding place, Odrin whirled and brought Ashreaver in a low-sweeping arc toward Dagmar's knees, attempting to knock his legs out from under him for the killing blow.

Re: ToG

#60

Odrin

For a suddenly one-armed man, bleeding out profusely, Dagmer still rushed at Odrin like some possessed vengeful spirit, swinging his broad sword wildly now. Odrin side-stepped the mad rush, and yet Dagmer barely missed Odrin's chest with his next swing.

The man was indeed a good fighter, Odrin reasoned internally, yet was not expecting a six-and-half foot master axeman this night.

And indeed, no man could withstand two hits from Ashreaver and live. Burying the axe-blade just above Dagmer's knee, with a sweeping strike, was the end. Dagmer collapsed, still managing gasping breaths, but in moments he would be dead.

Odrin was now covered in Ironman blood.

Re: ToG

#61

As soon as the second rider toppled from his mount Rheyna sprang into action, desperate to stop the second horse from bolting in the direction of those the first riders who would doubtless overpower the three of them.

"Kat, secure the first horse, we don't want that one bolting either!"

Now this, I like! She thought as she went for the horse, her years of sprinting through city streets and outrunning many if not all guards would benefit her greatly here.

Re: ToG

#62

With a yell of acknowledgement Kat ran and leaped at the second horses back, confident she could quell it fear soon after and secure the second of their riding mounts for the journey.

Re: ToG

#63

Odrin stood over his enemy, watching as the blood stained his own boots crimson. Why did he attack?

Squinting at the road, Odrin tried to discern if the other riders had noticed the fight, but the sudden onset of evening made them hard to pick out. He hoped the same was true for his small party.

"Tell me why you drew sword against me, friend, and I shall grant you a clean death. Norvos is a long way from here, and we are not at war."

Re: ToG

#64

Odrin, Kat, Rheyna

Rheyna was quick, Odrin never saw anyone sprint faster, and soon enough she caught the horse's reins and slowed it down, having bolted after it immediately. She patted the creaure, and whispered to it, calming it down and turning it back toward the scene of the struggle. Kat however, had some trouble with Dagmer's bigger horse, but finally managed to mount the creature, pulling on its reins and digging her heels into its flanks, as it foamed at the mouth and snorted in protest.

"We Ironborn--always--war" Dagmer struggled to speak, "You--road--warned of---trav---girl" he spat a bloody clot of phlegm, and heaved a dying breath. The clean death was not needed after all.

For a moment all was quiet, except Kat's horse, which was still giving her trouble, unhappy with its new rider.

Odrin instinctively looked back again toward the other riders, but they seemed to be gone now, their shadowy silhouettes, lost in the distance.

Re: ToG

#65

Kat gave Ryehna a nod of approval and wrinkled her nose slightly at the stench of blood and bowels from Odrin's kill, both impressed and a little nauseated at the mess his skilled axe work made of the Iron Man.

Once the larger beast was under control Kat carefully dismounted, passing the reigns to Odrin and voicing her thoughts on their next course of action. "I would suggest we ride hard this night, and put as much distance between ourselves and these corpses as possible. Come dawn the other four will likely come looking for their comrades, and the smell of blood on the night wind will no doubt attract predators far and wide."

Smoothing out her dress, Kat carefully made her way over to Shrill's corpse, quickly retrieving the broken shafts of her arrows from his body, her knife parting the mans coin purse from his side soon after.

She fumbled a moment, struggling to separate the weapon belt from the tangle of cloak, rejoining her companions soon after and taking a brief second to examine the blade in the moonlight; weighing its worth against her own as they decided on how to proceed.

Re: ToG

#66

Rheyna made her way back to the others, new mount in tow. "I too find it a good idea to ride through the night, gettingus away from them. But first let us check them and their horses"

So saying she went to pluck her knife from Dagmars leg, before cleaning it of blood.

Re: ToG

#67

"As you wish, mistress."

Now that the riders were out of sight, Odrin let his muscles relax a notch. His ears would give him warning of their return. Leaving the girls to their scavenging, Odrin pulled out his waterskin and a clean dry cloth, and set to work cleaning Ashreaver of the iron man's blood. She did not like being left dirty, and he hated to see her unhappy. Murmuring soft words of praise, he gently wiped her clean, checking the axe's edge for any damage.

"Tell me, Katrina, is there anywhere in this land of yours that is currently not at war?"

Re: ToG

#68

Katrina paused for thought, unsure how to answer such an open question, knowing her current knowledge of worldly affairs was likely outdated, but familiar with the all consuming flames of war. "I would expect the North Wall and Castle Black are free of any warfare, they stand as a neutral force against the horrors beyond the wall and have no interest in politics; or the squabbles of men."

She turned the blade over in her hands, the sheen of moonlight turning it a radiant silver. "It is said the noble houses are like a pack of Jackals, and when two begin fighting the rest seize the opportunity to settle disputes of their own, side with a possible victor, or improve their standing within the group for themselves."

Re: ToG

#69

"You're right about wrestling the shark - but one thing I learned that day: you cannot strangle them."
Quills gazed at his captain incredulously.
"You have to stick your hands like *this* into its gills, and rip them out."
Velaquo almost knocked over a bar wench with the gesture.

"But you've done well - I told you to run, and you ran so expertly even I almost didn't find you.'
He laughed at his own joke, then turned serious again.
"Let us retrieve the funds, gather what men we can, and raise the Silks once again. You shall count, I shall lead, and Maester Belomas shall keep us from folly. Gods be willing, we all die surrounded by friends, wine and willing women."

Re: ToG

#70

Korley had ridden out early the next morning to make haste for King's Landing. He paid little mind to the Gargalen, lolling in his saddle, so long as his horse was keeping up and the man still breathed. He arrived at the city, noting the signs of battle and carnage that had happened, and was glad that his armor was dingy from the road. It would be embarassing showing up after the battle in gleaming armor when the fighting and the dying was done with. Like some of those other worthless blooded Lannisters, he could imagine the gossip. He made sure he had time to groom himself before presenting himself to Tywin and King Joffrey. A clean shave, a once over to make sure his hair wasn't unruly and he put the oil and rag to his armor, making sure the leather had the warm glow of well used material and the metal fittings caught the firelight from the braziers.

He sent a footman to find another healer or cheap maester to make sure Gargalen was at least able to barf up his message before keeling over.

When beckoned, Korley entered the chambers of the King and his half blood family, his gait was relaxed, but he knew to keep his mouth shut until he was spoken to. He offered a bow to Tywin and Joffrey, and a second to the Queen Regent.

(I missed my post from the DM up there, apologies)

Re: ToG

#71

Raising his heavy head from the table and focusing on Ser Korley and smiled weakly.

"My head is heavy Ser. Whether from drink or almost dying I am not sure. I remember little but the haze in my head makes yesterday a blurr." He tried to sit up but a pain in his back sent his wheezing back to the table.

"Did you stick me by chance? I remember you sticking me. Well when I'm that far into my drink I couldn't blame you." a weak laugh escaped his pained face.

"I'd understand if your pride is far and wounded but I deserved worse than what you gave me and would not have blamed you should you killed me. For that I pledge my weapon to you until I can repay the slight I gave to you."

The answer would have to wait as his head fell back to the table with a solid thump and Rufus passed out to the pain blood loss.

(this is a little late as it is a few posts back.)

Re: ToG

#72

Belomas and Velaquo

"Yes, well, the coin" Quills eyed Belomas once more, confused as to why he had to spill the beans in front of this perfect stranger, and a Maester to boot.

"The coin, captain, is currently indisposed", he whispered, "We buried it. We would need a ship" he added mysteriously.

At that moment a square-jawed footman of the palace approached the table, and Quills shut-up all together.

"Maester, your services are requested at the Crown and Stag. Will you come? There is a man gravely injured, and coin for your troubles."

The crown and stag was an inn inside palace walls of King's Landing, not that Maester Belomas had any way of knowing this.

Velaquo arched an eyebrow. He had heard of the Crown and Stag. An inn not open to just anyone.

Re: ToG

#73

"I shall come, but i beg leave for my companions to join me. I have come to rely on their hands."

As he got up, he asked the footman, "what type of injury has he? I must plan his treatment even as we walk, for every moment is of the essense."

Re: ToG

#74

"Stabbed through the back with a sword, he has lost much blood. Came in on a horse just an hour ago. He's one of the Lannister's man apparently." The footman said for effect. "Man who brought him in, was ushered into the Small Council, just before i was sent by him to fetch a healer." he added, convinced this would impress the Maester.

Re: ToG

#75

"Well, lets be off then. ". Warriors and their swords. In the back no less. That he lived long enough to survive this long was an answer in itself. None of the major vessels were nicked, or his services would nt have been needed. "When we arrive, order some onion soup or something else equally pungent. It can help me answer an important question."

Re: ToG

#76

Velaquo and Belomas

"Onion soup" the footman repeated with a confused look, unsure if he had heard correctly. "Aye".

A few minutes and few draw-bridges later, Belomas, Velaquo (studying the structures as a sapper would, as he went) and Quills entered the "inner courtyard" which may as well have been a small town in and of itself.

The Stag and Crown was an inn proper and impressive, though the footman hurried through, until he got to an private alcove in the vast taproom and pulled back a curtain, revealing a large man, almost as wide as he was tall, slumped against the wall in a divan, his face as pale as milk, his eyes, black-ringed like a racoon's.

A shield reclined against the table near the man. A cockatrice, with a struggling serpent in its beak, was the design. Beside the shield leaning against the wall, was a ferocious-looking morning-star-club hybrid, studded with countless iron balls.

"This is he" the footman said, and withdrew to order a bowl of onion soup.

Velaquo and Quills looked about, taking in their surroundings, lost in thought. If they had two-hundred able bloody-silks right now, they'd take the bloody Iron-Throne of Westeros itself.

Re: ToG

#77

Kat, Rheyna, Odrin

They examined the swords best they could in the moonlight. The blades seemed sturdy enough but not the finest steel. Their coin-purses were nearly bare, a few dozen silvers coins between them, yet coin nonetheless.

Odrin mounted Dagmer’s uncooperative beast, and with one-hand hoisted Rheya up behind him. Shrill’s more steady gelding accepted Kat without struggle, and soon the trio rode out beneath the mocking moon. Even by moonlight riding by night was dangerous, especially in this terrain, so they mostly walked, moving faster only when they dared.

The Wall, Odrin pondered silently. He had heard of the wall even in Norvos. But why go there to freeze? He had been promised word by raven, by the Bearded Priest who sent him on his mission, yet he did not know when a raven would come, nor did he even begin to guess how a raven would find him in the first place, as he traveled.

Serve. Obey. Protect.

He hoped that the bird would find him soon.

By the time dawn speared the night with its first lances, Rheyna was asleep, her head resting uncomfortably against Odrin’s ample back.

Kat was still vigilant, and yet she too was tired. As morning came they were alone along some other dusty road. To the east, Kat knew was The Neck, where a man could get lost, sometimes forever. But she knew the swamp as well as she knew the alleyways of Barrowton.

The Wall was north, and they would have to turn that way soon, or end up in the vast bog separating the north and the south of Westeros.

But why The Wall, she thought, why there? The closest thing she knew to a “home”was close now, even the frogs seemed to be serenading her return.

Rheyna dreamt. She dreamt of giant, horrid kraken, with their grasping tentacles, and of giant axe-men who faced them in battle, unafraid.

Re: ToG

#78

Kat smiled at the sound of the night peepers sending their last calls into the breaking dawn; the thought of frozen stone and icy winds sending a faint shiver up her spine.

"A word Odrin," she called, slowing her horse to walk nearly an arms length beside him and her sleeping lover. "The land east of here was my home once, within the reeds we would not be found lest we wish it; and safety this close is far wiser then a long uncertain journey to the frozen reaches."

She smiled confidently at the mention of her familiar hunting grounds and the thoughts of friends long forgotten, and a past crime she hoped would not be soon recalled. The stirring of Rheyna in the saddle behind Odrin broke her thoughts; and she waited to see if her suggestion had disturbed the resting beauty, and if their course would lead them into the welcoming safety of the fen, or through House Starks lands and the war raging at their borders.

Re: ToG

#79

Korley and Gargalen

Korley strode in confidently, bowed to King Joffrey and the Queen Regent then surveyed the council room’s long-table, without moving his eyes about rudely.

There was young King Joffrey, Sweet Seven, he did look more like Jaime than Robert Baratheon, and Queen Regent Cersei, as beautiful as he had remembered her to be, and Tyrion the dwarf, his face barely visible from behind his huge wine goblet. Lord Tywin himself, steel-eyed and still, yet coiled as if ready to strike out at any moment. A true lion.

There was some ancient Maester, who was actually asleep, swallowed up by his high chair. There was a bald man in red robe with tiny dancing eyes like that of a sparrow. Korley had heard whispers of King Landing’s notorious spy-master Varys.

And near the tables but clinging to the shadows were two white-cloaks of the Kingsguard, deadly blades both, the eerily fish-eyed Ser Mandon Moore, and the brutish and hairy Ser Boros Blount.

“Welcome to King’s Landing nephew.” Came Lord Tywin’s even voice, “I trust the roads between Casterly Rock and King’s Landing are still safe? Sit, have wine. Tell us of your adventures.” He gestured to a servant, who poured a golden wine from the arbor into an ice-chilled brass goblet for Korley. “We heard you had an incident in Tumbleton, slew yourself a cockatrice?”

Tywin’s fleshless lips peeled back momentarily. A smile. Tywin’s greeting was followed by King Joffrey’s high-pitched one.

“Tell me, have they heard of my great victory over Stannis in the Westerlands yet?”

Re: ToG

#80

Shaking his head and focusing on the task at hand, Belomas examined the victim. That he had survived thus far was a testament to his strength, for a lesser man would have surely passed on by now.

Examining the wound, Belomas noted how clean the entry was - and that it looked unlikely anything got pressed into the injury. That was well, for the wound was deep. With no major vessels severed - a miracle - he had some time to act. First he covered over the wound loosely with cloth, and then gave the man some of the soup, carefully to avoid drowning him. He then waited several minutes to sniff the wound.

"If I do not smell onions, he should live. If his stomach or bowels have been breached, he is beyond my skills..."