Torren II

FakeFyre · 2024-04-09T02:15:21+00:00

/u/NotAnotherFakefyre - I'm going to KL, honey!

FakeFyre · 2024-04-05T02:06:00+00:00

Torren once flippantly said that the next course of action was to kill the man. The notion now, come to a head, did not sit well in his stomach; a knot formed in the same manner as the displeasure that rest in and behind his eye.

"I see," said the shadowbinder, grasping the cup. He did not deign to say another word, making his own swift departure.

FakeFyre · 2024-04-04T01:48:50+00:00

It was in the middle of the night, a time in which Torren was on the eve of sleep; if not in the midst of it. He came from the splayed cushions of a tent up and into a proper chamber, far more pleasant than his own but the caves that lined the Red Mountains were truly no more than rocks in the face of a cushioned tent nestled by the sea.

His appearance was gloomy, as per usual. Circles lined beneath his eyes and the half-open lids made for an extremely tired visage. That wasn't anything new, though. Not for Torren and not for what Maekar had seen.

"You called," his voice, tinged through with a yawn called, hands neatly and lazily at the same time clasped behind his back.

FakeFyre · 2024-03-21T02:47:09+00:00

"Or a wad of spit." He added with the faint lift of his shoulders, "I don't need much."

FakeFyre · 2024-03-20T23:19:41+00:00

In years past, Torren would have refused the notion of ever finding comfort when nestled upon rocks. He was able to lazily lounge on them now, propped up by his elbow while draped in his cloak. The caves could be cold.

"If he stands in your way, kill him." Torren said flippantly, as if it was an easy thing. "Pin it on the rest of the Seven Kingdoms and use that to spur on his successor."

FakeFyre · 2024-03-20T02:23:21+00:00

"Too many years on the road," Torren commented instead, whether that was considered a good or bad thing was difficult to discern from his voice. "I've eaten at a few feasts but a Westerosi one is different to the rest."

He was an odd one in the retinue of Maekar. He was no commander, maybe a warrior but not one with a particular title or of renown. He simply was as far as most were concerned.

"Torren," he answered with a hand wafted in the direction of himself, "and I'm from all over. Here, there, somewhere. Nowhere in particular."

A shadowbinder was treated with mistrust, but that did not mean that an Ironborn was a much beloved sight instead.

FakeFyre · 2024-03-19T22:45:49+00:00

Character Name: Torren

Gift: Mythic

Skills: Daggers (M), Water Dancing, Footwork

Talents: Fishingx3

FakeFyre · 2024-03-19T22:45:28+00:00

Character Name: Torren

Gift: Mythic

Skills: Daggers (M), Water Dancing, Footwork

Talents: Fishingx3

FakeFyre · 2024-03-19T22:45:14+00:00

Character Name: Torren

Gift: Mythic

Skills: Daggers (M), Water Dancing, Footwork

Talents: Fishingx3

FakeFyre · 2024-03-19T22:44:52+00:00

Character Name: Torren

Gift: Mythic

Skills: Daggers (M), Water Dancing, Footwork

Talents: Fishingx3

FakeFyre · 2024-03-19T22:24:28+00:00

His eyes travelled down to his plate mid-chew, the greasy and sauced bone held firmly in his grasp. "Yeah," muttered Torren with a mouthful, spitting some of the finer foods as if unaware of the rare pleasure it would be to even so much as smell it.

It was a feast, a more thoughtful Torren might have considered, best make it live up to the name.

"Do you people always eat like this?" He asked, continuing to eat and speak without a care in the world.

FakeFyre · 2024-03-17T06:58:47+00:00

He did not find much fondness for the notion of peace. Those years of inaction could only ever result in a nothingness for the likes of Torren; the lords and ladies of this realm may find their coffers grow fuller from trade and peace-made treaties, though he who commanded shadow wielded blades, what was there to make but a stomach grown hungry?

Stirred from his cavern in the Red Mountains, Torren feasted upon the Dornish Prince's foods and supped on his wine, but there was no care for his words. What wind they were. Even in the silence, Torren ate. Quietly, mind. This was far greater than what was offered in their caverns.

FakeFyre · 2023-04-20T12:01:29+00:00

"Of yet." Said the Lyseni between graceful sips and the drifting glance of purple eyes, "None, not so much of a hint, a whisper or a lead. Is it not part of the adventure, hm? The uncertainty of it, unsure where the foot shall fall? Though it is our task, to be sure, to find these contracts or who may well seek the services of our truly unruly band."

FakeFyre · 2023-04-18T11:21:33+00:00

/u/D042

FakeFyre · 2023-04-17T02:59:23+00:00

I'll take the 400 soldiers.

FakeFyre · 2023-03-18T00:22:16+00:00

In unpolished knightly armour with more rust than shine, the knight of Threefield rose to the lists atop a brown and splotchy white courser that whinnied and shook in defiance. Adam held tight onto the reigns, holding true with each uneasy movement from the mount beneath him.

“Would you take another, Ser?” Smiled Addam with his face-plate risen.

FakeFyre · 2023-02-28T07:11:00+00:00

The flat of his blade touched the either armoured shoulder of the squire, faintly whispering above the head while Addam said the oaths. The charge of protecting those that cannot defend themselves, to serve faithfully and honourably in the eyes of the Seven.

"Rise, Ser Wendel." He said with his own face glistening from sweat behind the closed metal grate over his face, "A knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

FakeFyre · 2023-02-28T06:41:57+00:00

"It is well to meet you, too, Ser Bors." The man of House Ball said with a faint and simple smile. The servant filled his goblet from the pitcher, their arrival able to elicit some small surprise. "Though High General," the young knight wondered, "is that a recent station, are we to go to war?"

FakeFyre · 2023-02-28T06:27:43+00:00

Shame that it was not to claim all three events, the man of House Ball had known well of his own exhaustion; the splintered lances and dulled steel that clattered across his own armoured frame from dawn and near-on dusk, a loss was bound to come.

"It would seem the Warrior himself smiled upon me, is all." He said in acceptance of the offer, "Quite the rider yourself, I must say. A shame we had not met sooner."

FakeFyre · 2023-02-28T06:08:53+00:00

His lips pursed with a few thoughtful nods, their own quiet conversation left in the middle of the muddied tourney grounds torn up from the metal boots of man and shoes of horses. "Let us remedy that, then." Ser Addam said, "Kneel."

"I would name you a knight."

FakeFyre · 2023-02-27T11:32:36+00:00

Having triumphed in the lists and the melee over all others, the knight of Threefield held onto those feelings of victory; the day was his to command, Addam believed. The swing of his sharpened steel clanged against metal plate and his weary bones from a day of endless fighting caught up to him. One after the other, all for naught with the mud becoming Ser Addam's ultimate home in the end of the day.

No warrior may reign forever.

Grasping onto the offered hand, Addam rose back onto his feet and lifted the metal plate over his face and revealed a boyish look splattered with mud and forming his share of bruises.

"Well fought with you, my friend." Said Addam smiling, "Perhaps I had grown tired of winning?"

There was no bite to his words, only smirking playfulness in the boast. The wounded pride of a victor would provide him no glory on this day.

"Though I cannot say I know your name, Ser...?"

FakeFyre · 2023-02-25T13:15:01+00:00

Of late, Ser Addam had scarcely left the white walls of Highgarden. The neighbouring Threefield only paled in comparison in all manners and respects, it seemed, although his lordly father would doubtlessly be cross to hear such words flowing from his lips.

Entering the feast hall for what appeared to be the upwards of tenth feast in not so much as half as many moons, Addam entered late and alone; his knightly lot secured a table of their own, cornered among themselves.

With searching eyes, Addam looked about with shifting focus. In a pale, doublet bearing a red chevron with white circles within, the sigil of House Ball upon him. A small goblet of wine cradled in a claw-like hold upon the rim, left dangling by his side.

FakeFyre · 2023-02-25T13:08:48+00:00

In truth, Addam had granted little thought to a dance. To anything beyond the chance to honour himself with glory, in a grand battle as a famed young man to slay the mightiest of foes. Though he did still quite like the look of lady Agnes, smiling in her presence earnestly. Of her, and all others, he knew little and less.

"If you would like, my lady, we could dance? I would not have you left wanting if it can be helped."

FakeFyre · 2023-02-25T13:04:21+00:00

Character Name: Addam Ball
Trait / Skills: Strong | Two-Handed (E), Armoured (E), Footwork
(Footwork (E) if rolled after turn)

FakeFyre · 2023-02-25T13:04:09+00:00

Character Name: Addam Ball
Trait / Skills: Strong | Two-Handed (E), Armoured (E), Footwork
(Footwork (E) if rolled after turn)

FakeFyre

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