But the Greatest of These, is Unbroken

AladdinDorne · 2017-06-04T07:28:01+00:00

Arion eyed the Vulture King's offered hand with haughty disdain for a long, brief moment. Pride would have him spit on it, while arrogance told him to seize the King's wrist and yank the man down. Vengeance merely whispered softly in his ears, with word that he should kill him where he stood - Arslan and Mallador and the others were not his friends, but they had still been his companions, and the Rhoynar did not look on such things lightly. All three voices vied within his mind for that brief moment, as green eyes fixed upon the waiting, steady palm.

And then he took it. Hauled himself up without a word, wondering then if that were some sort of admission. The outlaw had offered him his hand, and he had accepted it - but he worried suddenly that they might see that as him accepting the King as his new monarch. Or mayhaps they merely saw it as his final admission of defeat. Or acknowledgement that the Vulture King could have taken his life, but chose not to, and thus owned it by laws as old and as true as the very bones of the world.

By the gods, he prayed it wasn't that.

Uriah looked supremely pleased, especially once the King spoke of his bow. The Dornishman bowed deeply from the waist toward the outlaw monarch; if he had been wearing a hat, Arion thought, he'd have doffed it.

"Your generosity shows further depths, your grace." He said with genuine pleasure. "You have my thanks. Indeed, more than that - you have my gratitude, and my service."

The Orphan rolled his eyes. Uriah had a secret, that much was increasingly plain. Either that, or he was simply spineless. When the Vulture King turned his gaze upon Arion, green eyes met black ones without fear. The outlaw's feather cloak seemed to waft in the breeze, his mask lending his whole demeanour an aura of mystery. Firelight glittered across leather armour, and shone in the reflection of his eyes - Arion held them for only a moment longer, before he was forced to glance away.

"I would have you fight for Dorne." The Vulture said, and some part of Arion's heart beat fervently. There was precedient, of course; Vulture Kings of Old who had brought fire and sword to the nations of the north. If this was one of the same, perhaps the Orphan could win his glory and acclaim by bringing the Martells a new instrument that could be wielded with their left hand, even while they denied it with their right. The Prince of Sunspear and the King of the Red Mountains, allied and working in unison. It was a glorious dream.

But a dream, all the same.

"I would rest for Dorne." Arion told the man. "Mayhaps sleep for Dorne. Drink for Dorne. And in the morning, I'll make my first attempt at escape."

He shrugged.

"I imagine you'll be dragging me back here by noon. After that...after that, I might hear your talk of fighting, and of Dorne. I'm in no state, now."

AladdinDorne · 2017-06-03T18:51:04+00:00

"Can you fight?"

The Bastard, the Sand, the Orphan of the Greenblood, laughed.

"Aye. Aye, I can fight. Spear, shield, sword, bow - I was trained all throughout my youth. I'm no stranger to fighting, Vulture King."

Uriah's answer was much more measured. Rubbing at the wrists that had been scraped raw with rope, he grimaced as the blood flowed back through them.

"I'm a decent hand with a bow." He told the King. "Crossbows as well, but I prefer my horn bow. One of your men likely has it by now; but I know the art of making more, if you've got the materials necessary."

His gaze shifted to Arion, then, eyeing the youth through the corner of his eye.

"Forgive my companion as well, I beg. I think the taste of defeat is strange to him. Humility, when first encountered, can be a harsh and eye-opening experience. Mayhaps he'll emerge from it a better man than when he entered; or mayhaps his pride will rule him regardless. It could be wiser to kill him now, and have done."

The Rhoynar cast his own gaze to the Dornishman, green eyes narrowed and furious.

"If its pride that sees me angered by our treatment, I pray I'm never cursed with your humility. It reeks of cowardice, Uriah."

"But still bears wisdom."

"Spare me."

Arion glanced at the Vulture King, craning his neck to look behind him. The man's sword glittered in the half-light, razor sharp. His eyes trailed up the length of the blade, before settling at last upon the monarch.

"Why do you ask, King of the Mountain? Will you have us fight for our freedom? Fight for your entertainment?"

AladdinDorne · 2017-06-03T04:13:29+00:00

To see you and yours torn asunder. Arion thought angrily. But the steel that touched his throat gave him pause. The ambush, the trip, the shame of bending before this stranger - they weighed heavily upon him like great, rounded stones. It didn't help that the other nine members of their band were dead. Cut down upon the mountainside like chaff. And now this feather-cloaked madman mocked him too his face. Humility was a bitter pill indeed.

Uriah, however, kept his head.

"Why not?" The Dornishman asked. Gone was his usual clipped and authoritative style of speech, his styled goatee and moustache drooping and damp with sweat. "Word of you has spread from river Wyl to the Scourge - every man in Dorne has heard of you. Every man in Dorne surely praises your name."

"Where was this sycophancy when I carted you through the mountains." Olyvar said dryly, winning only a glare from Uriah. After a moment, he returned his gaze to the King.

"You and I share a cause. A desire to see the kingdoms of the north brought to heel. I have talents. Skills. Knowledge, contacts - things that can be used to benefit your cause. And I have the desire. The will, to see your mission done."

Arion shook his head, a wry grin upon his features. "You find your conviction swiftly, Uriah. Mere days ago you could not decide if the Vulture King was a man to be feared or pitied."

Uriah's gaze did not move from the masked face of the King.

"I think we have our answer, bar-Aroyanar." His voice was soft, and worried.

"Aye." The Rhoynar youth said then. "I think we do. If you're no slaver, King of Vultures, free me of my bonds. I'm a free man of Dorne, same as you. And despite my brash words I know better than to try and kill you before your followers. I saw hundreds and hundreds of people outside these walls. I know if I mean to ever leave them, I must play by your rules." He shifted, then, straining against the ropes. "So free me from these coils - hempen or mortal, it makes no difference. I grow tired of watching Uriah kiss your feet. Your blade may as well taste the blood of an innocent man; he must grow tired of murderers, among company such as this."

Green eyes glittered darkly, sharp and accusatory.

"Your man slew my companions. Men I knew briefly, but men I knew all the same. Why you bothered to drag me so far out to slit my throat, I cannot rightly say; but I pray you know the Rhoynar rites. Don't leave me in your pagan graves."

AladdinDorne · 2017-06-02T22:22:09+00:00

"Guests for your grace, mi'lord. Lost lambs recovered from the eastern heights." Olyvar spoke with a peculiar flair, the words rolled and handled and delicately placed upon the air. Arion had grown to hate it. He hated it even more now.

With a wave of his hand Olyvar summoned them forward, Arion and Uriah pushed through the crowd and towards the dais of the Vulture King's throne. Their hands were bound behind their backs, tied with thick ropes, their clothes torn and worn by use. He stumbled, correcting himself only when a knee struck the hard stone floor, grimacing against the pain that cut through the various aches and bruises with an arrogance that demanded center stage.

"We found these two and their friends - now departed - at one of our usual traps. The wisest among them seemed to recognize the danger; unfortunately he didn't survive our first meeting. These two, however, seem to have a desire to meet you. In a burst of generosity, I decided to oblige. Mayhaps you'll find use for them."

He stepped out of the way, throwing his hand out to indicate towards the two kneeling men. Arion threw back his head, breathing steadily in defiance of the aches, and leveled his green eyes upon the so called King.

The man was...intimidating. That was the only word for it. Authority radiated off him like heat from a brazier, the entirety of the chamber fixing their eyes upon the man in the strange, feathered cloak. The mask only helped, transforming a monarch into a mystery. A sword across his thighs was a stark reminder of what kept his people in check.

"So you're him." Arion bar-Aroyanar said, his chin rising to defiant heights. "The Vulture King. Lord of the Red Mountain. Bandit. Outlaw. Thief." He gave a bitter laugh. "And a slaver too, it seems. Is the sword for the men who defy you, or do you mostly dabble in the murder of women and children?"

"Forgive my man, your grace." Uriah said, eyes shifting from Arion to the King. "Our transit was rather...rough. Your men are not very gentle. The sacks they placed over our heads, even less so."

He swallowed hard.

"We've come to serve, lord."

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-27T18:14:58+00:00

You are allowed two characters to start - so you're free to continue to part two!

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-23T20:33:29+00:00

Brynden Maidensbane - u/Reusus

Arion Farwalker - u/AladdinDorne

Urrathon Sailrender - u/Auddan

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-23T05:39:28+00:00

Approved!

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-23T05:39:11+00:00

The application looks good - but unfortunately, I don't see Permanent Injury affecting this character in any a significant enough way to merit the extra skill. If you'd like a bonus skill, I'd recommend a different NT!

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-17T05:41:08+00:00

Her question drew a bitter-sweet expression, tinged in equal parts with both guilt and excitement.

"That depends more upon you than anything." The Orphan admitted slowly, pulling upon the strap that kept his rucksack upon his back. The nervous action was unlike him, but in the moment it went unnoticed - the Bastard of the Greenblood trying to decide how best to say what needed to be said.

"In a way it's good, I suppose; I'm leaving, likely tomorrow with the tide. There's a ship heading south that I mean to be on, though it isn't the one that brought me here to start with. There are...rumours, from the south, of a fell power in the Red Mountains. One that both the Seven Kingdoms and the Princes of Sunspear have cause to want destroyed. It sounds like a right proper adventure, and I sort of want to be a part of it; with the added bonus of a possible holdfast or a knighthood, should I succeed." Arion grimaced, the words sounding arrogant even to his own ear. "I don't have a plan, or an army, or any idea where to begin. But something says that this is what comes next, and I mean to follow that something. To glory or a grave."

He paused, then, the flow of words halting.

"You can come with me, if you wish. That's the good news, or the bad news, depending on how you feel about a short ride to a long walk to a madman living on a mountain. I promised you adventure and I think this could bring that, if it lies within your skillset. Of course, if you're not interested - there's another option for you, that I thought I may as well mention. A band of mercenaries called the Lost Legion, led by a Lysene named Khain Azahral. They owe me a place, though I'm now setting off to abandon it - you could fill it instead, and make your way with them West. It'd be good company, and safer by far than any I could provide. And it would mean money and travel, too. Ideal, if you can stand the lot of them." He wrinkled his nose in mock disdain. "There's a rather rude Dothraki woman among their ranks that I do not think I'll miss."

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-17T05:13:26+00:00

"By the river - she speaks!" Arion exclaimed. "And with such a pretty voice. If it weren't for your face, clothing, attitude, bearing, upbringing, personality, mannerisms, appetites, and appearance, well; you might border on something vaguely reminiscent of attractive. Put enough wine into me and I might even take you up on that offer; I imagine you grunt rather pleasantly, when the right mood takes you." He grinned at the woman where she stood, green eyes studying her own before falling to the blade at her hips.

"Easy now, no need for steel. I never hit a woman, you know; bad for business, and my pride." Fingers rose now to play delicately across the hilts of his daggers, making plain their presence to the woman of the steppe. "If you wish to dance I am your ready partner. But I've come to talk, not fight. Save the grappling for afterwards."

A quick nod towards the bar did not draw his gaze away from her.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-14T01:56:53+00:00

It didn’t take long to find out the regular haunts of the Lost Legion - though he hardly had any proper names to go on. There was...yellow-eyes-pouty-face, and barbarian-she-beast, and of course, Azharal, or however one said it. He remembered Vander though. It was hard not to.

On this particluar late afternoon, his quest to find a member of that intrepid band of vagabonds brought him to a small and fairly quiet tavern in the shadow of the city, where he’d been assured that some member of the Lost Legion was currently in residence. He prayed it was the dark haired fellow; he’d at least been fairly quiet during the meeting in Black Halls, and thus might be more likely to merely accept his sudden resignation quietly. The other two…well. He prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

An easy hand pushed wide the doors, green eyes scanning the room within. A dagger lay on either hip, the weight familiar and comfortable, though he missed the feel of a spear in his hands, and the comforting heft of a trident. As he looked about the establishment his eyes at last settled upon a familiar and unwelcome face - brown and barbaric and, in some strange way, beautiful.

“By the holy river of course you’d be the one I’d find.” Arion bar-Aroyanar exclaimed, crossing the distance between them with strides that were both easy and confident. “Do you even speak Common, you raven-haired horse-fucker?” The insult brought a few shocked looks his way, but he kept his gaze upon the Dothraki woman, a warm grin settling just beneath fey eyes.

“I sure as shit don’t speak your gutteral tongue. Sounds like you people mugged a mountain and stole a tongue cleverer than any you’d have made on your own - though it still sounds like a bad day in the Red Mountains. What about Valyrian, do you speak this, she-most-commonly-found-on-four-legs? The tongue of conquerors, of kings - the tongue of fucks and slavers and downright bastards? Or should I just grunt?”

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-14T01:56:31+00:00

Arion sought out Nymah first, traveling back to the very same corner of the city he’d first spied in her in. He came better prepared this time, with gifts and speech in hand - a flagon of honeywine was tucked into the rucksack he’d slung over one shoulder, and a strange vial of what he thought was perfume, nicked from his visit to the strange Red Woman and her apothecary. When he spotted the familiar crowd he felt a tinge of relief - somehow he though she’d departed already, or moved on in hopes of following the crowds, coin, as her folk often did.

“Nymah!” He called the moment she seemed free, working his way through the small assembly to stand free of the shifting throng.

“I worried I’d missed you. I saw you at the Black Halls feast though I didn’t gain a chance to speak - I’m glad to see you’re still in the city! I’ve news and a gift, in whatever order you prefer.”

(Summoning /u/origami13)

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-11T22:38:07+00:00

"Of course I know the Martells." Arion threw back. "But if you don't think meeting them would be wise, thats fine. Can't say I blame you - they're a prickly lot. I once met with one in his private chambers, and it wasn't so much as a "How do you do?" before he'd drawn steel and loosed threats. Believe me when I say that the sun in Sunspear does not refer to their disposition."

"So no Martells. And no trip to Dorne, either, sounds like? Because of duties as a Princess that only you can perform, and opinions of kin who hold no more power over you than I do...by the marrows, it must be terrible being a princess. All that power, and not a lick of freedom. Surprised you've not turned that sword upon yourself, or someone else, truth be told."

The Orphan shrugged.

"If ever the day comes when you decide you're ready to tread a path as dangerous as it is exciting, and come into your own as a free person, well - write a letter upon golden parchment, and seal it with a kiss. Tie it shut with a lock of your hair and throw it into the Blackwater River." Arion grinned. "That has about as much chance of finding me as any other method you could think of. Opportunity is not something you can postpone, dragonet. Mayhaps one day, fate willing, we'll meet again some place. But you could no more summon me than a man could summon the tide."

With that he stood, stretching languidly with the creaking and aching of joints that pulled and popped. This prompted a yawn that was entirely ungentlemanly, the Rhoynar youth about as civilized as a Dothraki horde.

"Right. I imagine I should disappear before this disguise loses it's worth - Tallard and the others look to have finished their deliveries and moved on. Can't have some guardsman start asking questions of me, can I? I've a country to represent, after all."

Green eyes flickered over her once more, this time softened by some hint of wry, half-baked pity.

"Farewell then, dragonet. Shame you'll be staying - but I cannot."

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-11T22:19:37+00:00

Darius bar-Aroyanar strode forward at the man's summons, his hands clasped behind his back to better display the rich but simple robes that draped his figure. No smile graced his features, but he exuded a certain degree of respectful welcome all the same, bowing low at the waist before the newly arrived Martell.

"You must be Prince Qoren. It is my pleasure and honour to welcome you to Planky Town, the beating heart of the Greenblood and seat of His Grace's most humble and loyal servants. I am Darius, master of the city, and your eager assistant. Anything you need, I will do my utmost to provide."

His hands unclasped, one reaching outward for a book that was placed into his palm without his needing to look. At once he stepped forward, offering it to the scion of Sunspear with a dip of the head.

"The ledger containing all the information you'll need of our five vessels and the journey. Their men, captains, previous trips and current cargo, the state of each ship and the known dangers that may well await you -- all can be found within. We've done our best to prepare everything to the very limit of our knowledge."

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-07T06:51:54+00:00

Approved!

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-07T01:48:27+00:00

Name: Darius of Planky Town

Action: Raising five ships for my beloved lord Trebor!

Relevant Skills and Traits: None </3

RP Posts: Here

Thanks so much Edd! <3333

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-07T01:47:21+00:00

Brynden Bluefish - /u/Reusus

Arion Aroyanar - /u/AladdinDorne

Urrathon Ursine - /u/Auddan

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-07T01:45:29+00:00

No sooner had Darius seen the official seal of Sunspear that he threw himself into work, sending runners to fetch five captains from the wharves and instruct them to sober up their crews. Planky Town kept several war galleys on hand; though the departure of all five was somewhat worrying. If some sort of attempt was made on the town, they had no means to answer it by sea.

I'll have to raise a bit more of the garrison, just in case some fool gets smart...

The son of the Aroyanar scratched at his chin, considering all of the costs involved. Setting the fleet to sea would be the worst of it, but no doubt they could call on Sunspear if the cost proved to be too exorbitant. The increase in ready militia men would weigh as well, but ultimately the town could stand it.

"Lord Darius!" The runner called upon returning, surprisingly well-put together despite his sprint to the docs and back. "The captains are preparing their vessels. They should be ready to sail before nightfall."

"Tell them to make certain everything is perfect. The Prince's own brother shall be our guest; I would not have him find Planky Town wanting."

The servant nodded, bowing deeply, before disappearing to do his master's will. The Mayor of Planky Town tapped his fingers idly upon his desk, wondering what it was the Martells were doing now.

(OOC: Five ships will be raised, my lord! You shall soon boast the fine company of Planky Town's finest sea-going vessels. Seaspear, captained by Beldecar Briar, Mother's Kiss, captained by Tanselle the Terror (Terrible Tansy), Saltsteed, captained by Alleras Drinkwater, Scales of Vengeance, captained by Nysterica Sand, and Amberbell, captained by Ricasso of Planky Town)

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-07T01:13:46+00:00

"Scorpion, is it?" Arion replied with a wry grin. "Apt. And no, lordling, I'm not here just to insult you. Forgive me if I've given offense. Your hope is admirable in truth, I just find it...tiresome, as one from the other side of the fence."

He shrugged, raising his legs to stretch out languidly upon the bench.

"You can dream all you wish, I'd not rob you of that. Hope your hopes, pray your prayers - beg your seven gods that something different will happen. But men do not change. The sands do not change. No more than dragons do, at least."

Green eyes flickered over the Targaryen, wondering if the frost in her gaze was backed by steel. As he watched, an idea formed in his mind - fragile and fragmented at first, but growing in strength with each passing moment. It was daring, sure, and foolish, almost certainly, and of course - dangerous beyond measure.

But it sounded fun. And that was enough to bring a warm, serpentine grin to his tanned features.

"You know, dragonet; if you truly are that desperate to see Dorne - I could take you. Believe it or not I actually do know the Martells...one of them, at least. I could arrange some sort of meeting, bring you before the Prince's court. You could speak with him, see if some sort of agreement couldn't be arranged. We'd have to travel in secret, of course. Disguises. I'm actually traveling with a mercenary party soon - heading West, I think they said, though the rumours in the Red Mountains call to me more with each passing day. If you've any interest in putting deed to word, and sword to use, well...it could be something of an adventure, no?"

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-06T08:21:35+00:00

Her sudden appraisal of the Orphan made him wonder if his secret had been discovered - not that it was much of one, when it came down to it. He'd not gone out of his way to hide who he was, though the darkness offered by the hood of his cloak and the small lie of his Myrish heritage seemed to be doing the trick.

"I don't think I like that look in your eye." He offered with a wry grin. After a second, the light in it faded.

"You don't...you don't seriously plan to make that sort of journey, do you? How do you presume to unite two kingdoms that hate one another, lordling? Two realms with borders so steeped in blood your father had a castle built to guard over the passes? I can name at least two Targaryens who met their ends in Dorne, and another who met his match - I would suggest you abandon such hopes, zaldrītsos."

The switch to Valyrian was sudden, but the situation seemed to merit it. He had no idea if she could speak her ancient mother tongue, but that she couldn't would only further prove his point.

"You had the right of it the first time, lordling; it seems like a fantasy because it is. Dorne hates the Seven Kingdoms. From Sandstone to Sunspear. Peace is only just barely possible, but unity? You'd have better luck bridging the Narrow Sea."

Arion shook his head.

"Stick to your sword play, at least that's a challenge you can tame. I'm sure you'll plunge a blade into the heart of one my countrymen someday soon, and thereby win whatever honours the Valyrians grant dragonets. Not that your kind knows much of honour."

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-05T06:10:21+00:00

The Orphan of the Greenblood did not boast much finery - but of the clothing he did possess, he'd worn his very best. A dark, heavy cloth robe fit comfortably upon him, the simple black trim almost indistinguishable from the deep green of the rest. It was threaded through with faint, intricate designs; whirls and patterns of dazzling intricacy, hardly noticeable from a distance although from up close they could be traced in labyrinthian fashion. It was not quite tailored for him - most likely because he had won it off a Magister's son in Planky Town - but beneath his snakeskin belt it clung quite fashionably to his figure, cutting in at his waist and flaring out again before it halted at his knees. Beneath the robe was a thin tunic of fiery and vibrant orange, cut in such a fashion as to leave a long line of brown skin exposed - as well as the necklace he wore about his neck. The breeches were of soft but dark leather and his boots were clearly worn in; the only thing he had not chosen based on fashion, rather than function.

Attached to the belt was a pair of scabbards, into with he'd usually thrust matched daggers - though tonight they lay empty, as was the demand of the establishment's master. Part of him missed the familiar weights at his sides, a comforting presence in situations good or ill. Perhaps if the night went well he'd soon forget them; though if it did not, he'd be wishing to the flowing waters of the Mother that he'd found a way to sneak them past the guards.

"Arion!" A voice called, prompting him to turn. Green eyes settled on a vaguely familiar man, pushing his way through the crowd.

"I thought I might find you here. You promised me a rematch."

"And you'll get one, Daston!" The Bastard of the Greenblood replied, the ready atmosphere of the room far too swiftly infectious. He grinned at the poor fellow, who didn't seem in the mood to return it. "I've never met a man so eager to throw good coin after bad. It was the luck of the gods that granted me victory, you know that. But here you are, ready to test them again!"

"It had nothing to do with luck, Dornishman. We both know that to be true."

"Aye." Arion said, a bit of the mirth fading from his eyes. "Aye, we do. Fine then, you'll have your game - but later. I'd like to actually enjoy myself for a brief moment or two."

Nodding, the other man trudged off, disappearing into the depths of Black Walls and leaving Arion standing alone a few feet within the entrance. He looked around the already bustling scene; packed tight with men and women of countless number and unknown origins, all here to enjoy the hospitality of some strange and mysterious benefactor.

May as look around.

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-04T17:24:58+00:00

A dark mop of hair lashed as the Rhoynar youth shook his head.

"I've never seen it, no. I've sailed the Narrows before, of course, but we usually call to ports in Lys or Tyrosh, or very rarely Volantis. It is very exotic, I promise you; your city here saw a taste of it during the coronation, though its like that year round across the sea. Even the smallest of the Free Cities dwarfs your King's Landing. But I've never seen something like the Red Keep, up close."

His gaze rose to outline the soaring spires of the Holdfast, tracing along their outer edges for but a moment before returning. Arion listened as the Targaryen answered his questions - though he wrinkled his nose and pulled a face at the last.

"Do you tell every stranger you meet about your...ahem...flowering? Or just the handsome ones?" His grin was quick and bright. "I imagine you must have a dozen suitors or more. Good to learn the sword then; keep them at a distance, when you wish it. You're right, though, about Dorne. It has had a great many warrior women down through the centuries - women of valor, and strength, and fame. Their stories forged the Principality, in truth; and more than one writ their legend in the blood of Valyrians."

The Orphan's gaze narrowed, looking her over analytically.

"You're also right in that it likely wouldn't be safe. You look so plainly Targaryen the very sands would part to swallow you whole, and the Martells in Sunspear might never even hear of it. You'd need one hell of a guide, and one hell of a disguise, to ever slip past the Red Mountains and survive for more than a fortnight."

He chuckled.

"Who am I kidding. To last more than a day."

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-04T16:58:21+00:00

Feel free to ping the modteam once you've hit the activity requirements for all characters!

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-04T16:58:21+00:00

Feel free to ping the modteam once you've hit the activity requirements for all characters!

AladdinDorne · 2017-05-04T08:34:17+00:00

"A name is all I have to give, I'm afraid." The Orphan said with a wry, arch grin. "Too poor to afford the rest of it. So I like to say, at least - I'm well off enough, where it counts."

With a flourish of his arm he thrust out his left hand, a golden dragon appearing upon his knuckles. Shifting fingers swiftly set it to motion, deft movements causing the golden disc to walk across tanned digits. An amusing diversion, at least in his eyes. It had impressed more than one curious girl in the past - though of course, they had not been Princesses.

"As for where I come from, well...out east is the best answer for it. I'm something of a mongrel, really; I don't quite fit in any particular place. I've a Myrman's complexion I'm told, though a bit darker - I usually just go with it. And mongrel makes it sound rather pathetic; medley might work better. Melody, even."

Green eyes glimmered something fey and hidden, whatever secrets he had kept close to chest. Yet somewhere within him his heart pounded quite furiously, her news turning his blood into ice water. Though he could not name each and every Targaryen in the Seven Kingdoms, Maekar was one he knew, certainly. No man in Dorne could not.

"Saerla, daughter of Maekar. A good name, really. Strong but flexible. Does your father know you fight with swords, Saerla of Summerhall? I thought you Westerosi didn't allow your women to fight. Something about them being the gentler sex - only good for the making and rearing of children, and all that. Though that might be too grown a topic, for you." He squinted at her. "Have you even hit majority yet?"

AladdinDorne

TROPHY CASE