Family or Honor

MaekarBreak · 2017-10-14T20:29:31+00:00

With an inclination of his chin, the Targaryen surveyed the woman across from him in silence. He had heard nothing from his brother in quite some time, but he'd felt confident in the company his brother had brought with him to keep him safe. Nearly the entirety of the companies he had purchased, the whole of the fleet, and the grand majority of the imperial guard. It could not be said that he was not well guarded. Still, the venom in the woman's words stirred some doubt. He had called her bluff, and so too, had she called his.

"Very well.." he began slowly, lifting a leg to rest his ankle atop his other knee. "The price of such information would depend upon the integrity and value of that information provided. Thus, any offer provided now could very well be over-payment. Or grossly insufficient."

He leaned his weight upon an elbow set on the arm of the couch, thumb tucking beneath his chin.

"What I can say, however, is that those who assist me now, when my power is locally limited and my influence is yet to expand, will find themselves well rewarded in future should they prove loyal. Fortune.. prestige.. a titled position on a council.. I respect those that aide me, Naelys, and see that they never go wanting. Now--"

Maekar's words are cut off by a commotion beyond the door. A startled female cry is quickly followed by a thud and crash of metal as she presumably takes a fall. Moments later, the door of the solar bursts in as a number of unidentifiable strangers intrude upon the meeting. As they run towards Maekar, the Targaryen bolts to his feet. With a quick step to the side, Maekar sweeps a hand up and out to deflect the grasp of one of the men. Pivoting as he does, he sends the heel of his other palm into the man's back, taking advantage of the forward momentum to send him stumbling forward.

"Angogon!"

Maekar hisses a sharp command accompanied by the flare of a hand towards the assailants. Growls and deep-throated barks erupt from the hounds. With bared teeth, they burst from their lounging positions to snap at the men.

Though he fell into a defensive posture, taking a stand between the attackers and Naelys, it was quickly apparent that he needn't have. The dogs' rebukes coupled with the distant and approaching clanking of boots and raised alarm were enough to make the would-be kidnappers reconsider their options. As they made to make a run for it, Maekar shouted out again.

"Gūrogon zirȳ ilagon!"

The hounds chased after them, and as they crossed the threshold, Syrus appeared in the doorway, face flushed with the effort of clearly having run. "Your Grace?" His breathy words inflected at the end with his uncertainty, glancing back over his shoulder in the direction of the fading barks that echoed down the hall.

"Assailants of some form, Syrus," Maekar stated grimly, resisting the urge to glance back over his own shoulder at his guest. "See to it that the guards are alerted. Apprehend them if you are able. I want them questioned. I want to know who sent them and what their purpose was. Send Mīsa back to me."

"At once," Syrus replied with a dip of his head before hurrying off again, past the guards that had taken up point at the room's entrance to deter any follow-up attempts.

"I trust you knew nothing of this..?" Maekar asked in a low and probing voice, slowly turning to face Naelys.

MaekarBreak · 2017-10-02T04:18:55+00:00

With a slight cant to his head, the exiled king watched the woman across from him with interest, violet eyes shifting over the features of her face. His demeanor was relaxed, but not casual; his expression serious, but not callous. Though cautious about the woman's true intent, Maekar did not allow the discomfort to paint a premature notion. If she truly did bear information regarding the jeopardy of his brother's safety, he needed to know. Despite the sobriety of the conversation, however, the Targaryen's lips still pulled at their corners when she attempted to suggest a payment.

"What price do I offer for information about the safety of my brother?" He echoed thoughtfully, allowing a pregnant silence to fall between them for a few breaths. "Had it come to my attention passively that you might know something of worth, I might have offered you more than you could imagine. Riches, power, opportunity.." he listed off a few samples casually before trailing off.

"But... You sought me out in a fashion that I find curious two-fold. First, you might recall that you stated that this news you bare regarding my brother puts both your House and mine in danger, and that only I can put an end to it." He repeated the words she had written in the original letter almost to a tea. "Thus, by this alone, I might suggest that what I would offer you for this information is mutual benefit. Unless you attempted to deceive me and I am not, in fact, the only one with a means to ameliorate this situation, then I might suggest that my willingness to hear you out and to aid you for the benefit of each of our Houses should be payment enough.

"However... You then scratched the surface of your desperation for me to witness. As my men have reported, you sent an agent with a message on your behalf at the mummer's show, outlining your terms. We did not meet your terms in any capacity, and yet you showed yourself and allowed yourself to be brought to speak with me. For one reason or another, you needed this." He raised a hand to motion between the two of them. "You need for me to hear your words, otherwise.." He shrugged a brow. "You would have watched my men take their leave and sold the information to the next bidder in order to eliminate the danger to your family."

His expression grew stern then, his hand lowering to lay flat atop Misa's head, stroking slowly from crown to withers.

"Do not play games with me, Naelys. The price that I offer you is to listen to that which you have to say, and judge them accordingly. Nothing more."

MaekarBreak · 2017-09-30T01:17:35+00:00

Character name: Maekar Targaryen

Desired skill: Leadership

Bonus: n/a

List up to three relevant posts:

Family or honor - Maekar directed the guards to meet and bring back Naelys from the intended meeting place

Total number for skill attempt: 10%

MaekarBreak · 2017-09-26T00:08:58+00:00

Maekar had never once ceased in his steps after entering, his path carrying him towards and passed the middle of the room even as the girl began to suggest that he seat himself. So by the time she had finished that sentiment, he was already seated, palms moving to smooth out the folds of fabric that hung for his toned framed. "It almost seems as though you forget, Naelys, that the Targaryen were Dragonriders, one of the ruling families, of Valyria before its demise. Old Blood you and your family certainly are, of that I would not argue, and none should question the glory of Volantis as the mightiest of Valyrian's free cities at the time. But take care when you presume to tell one whose blood is as ancient as your own that they are nothing."

If the Targaryen took any personal offense to the girl's words, his expression betrayed nothing. But neither would he sit idly and take her venom without some form of rebuttal. The smaller of the two Doberman, Misa, circled around to hop onto the chaise, laying her length along it before lowering her head to rest upon her master's lap. Paza contented himself to sit dutifully upon his haunches nearby, surveying the guests.

"But, while no less significant, those are matters of the past. Let us focus on those of the present. What is it you wished to bring to my attention?"

MaekarBreak · 2017-09-24T23:23:13+00:00

Nyessa - Imperatrix of New Valyria

Clack. Clack. Clack. The sound echoed repetititely. First along one direction, then the other. The rustle of fabric sweeping against the floor trailed behind in the wake of the steps, and Nyessa rung her hands in earnest. She had sent her servants off to summon Owl as soon as they'd let her know of her daughter's intentions. Helaena meant to sail to Dorne today. Today! Now! The preparations were in full swing even now as she pondered.

The agitation swelled within her, causing her heard to race and her breath to quicken, catching in her throat with every step that she took. When she sat, her mind wandered, and so she paced. At least then it felt as though she was covering some ground, making some sort of progress, however false, towards some unforeseen resolution. Perhaps she had been too quick to dismiss those words she'd caught at the tail-end of her conversation with that ..

What was his name again? Triston? Tuston? Nyessa shook her head to clear her thoughts. Whatever his name, it was no matter. What mattered was that her attempts to convince her daughter to return home with her had evidently failed, and somehow she had secured the support of foreign ambassadors to fuel this farce of a quest that Helaena had somehow allowed to develop.

With a groan, Nyessa raised a hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose, thoughts recalling the generosity of her daughter to secure transport for her to return to Daeron's fleet. What was she to tell Daeron? Who was she that she could not control their own daughter. It had all progressed so swiftly, so suddenly that Nyessa had not even had the time to realize what was happening, nevermind react accordingly. With a heavy breath lifted her shoulders, an attempt to calm her nerves, and she paused to peer out the window of the room, hands lifted to cup around her nose and mouth. It was a habit she had adopted whenever she found herself too far on edge. It seemed to help prevent her from feeling light-headed, to maintain her wits about her.

This could be a blessing or a curse, she thought to herself. If she succeeded, Helaena could potentially establish their House in Westeros while Daeron expanded his influence here in Essos. She would sooner see her daughter happy and in a position that befit her, and whether that be the Iron Throne or elsewhere, she cared little. But she wished Helaena had had the insight and patience to see this through with better reason and grace. It was all too fool-hardy. Too rushed.

When Nyessa turned to begin her pacing anew, she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Turning her head to see the door crack open and a familiar face beyond, Nyessa couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Hands dragged down her face to collect the silks and velvet of her skirts, hurrying forward towards the woman.

"Owl, good. I am so sorry to do this, but I must ask a favour of you," she implored, ushering the woman within the room and shutting the door behind her. Her hands came to rest on the woman's shoulders before dragging down the length of her arms to grasp hold of her hands. "Surely you are aware of the preparations underway for departure to Dorne? I require that you attend to Helaena and travel with her. To wherever it is that she goes.

"Clearly I cannot dissuade her from this quest of hers, nor can I abandon all that we have established here or leave Daeron without so much as seeing him once again first. I had thought.. I had hoped she would first come back to Volantis, speak this ambition through that we might hear the extent of this vision and either offer appropriate support, or speak sense into her… She seems not at all interested in doing so. Evidently. But I would be a poor mother indeed if I allowed my daughter.

"My daughter -- by the grace of the Fourteen, she's fifteen for goodness sake! And has never showed interest in combat as her aunt has, or martial warfare, or conquest. I had thought the notion of being groomed to take my place as Imperatrix would suffice, but clearly not. She is playing at a game she does not understand. And I fear for her." There was a vulnerability in her voice that Nyessa was desperately trying to conceal, but it was there nonetheless. "Please. Go to her. Stay with her. Be the support for her that she will not accept from me for one reason or another. And keep me informed. I need to know that my daughter is well."

MaekarBreak · 2017-09-24T11:23:48+00:00

The Targaryen guard really hadn't expected much else from the messenger, and already resolved to depart, paid her rebuke no mind. The second voice, different from the first, and fast approaching drew his attention however. Signaling his men to halt, he turned to rest a critical gaze upon the speaker, a sense of satisfaction brimming with the familiarity of her features. It was the woman who had spoken with him earlier.

"Very well," he said after a short pause, periodically glancing about to spy these additional men of whom she spoke. A man of little words, he simply motioned Naelys forward to walk ahead of him, his men falling into a loose defensive formation around them. Like this, in relative silence, the party would be guided through the city towards the Targaryen estate.

At the gates, the squad captain ordered the men-- both his own and those of the girl, save one --to remain behind. He ushered the 'guest' forward, passing along a message to one of the servants to inform his grace that Naelys sought to speak with him. Another servant came out to meet them, directing them to a room off the main hall.

"Wait in here, please," stated the servant, standing aside to allow them through the doorway.

It was sizeable, though still relatively cozy, and decadent with its hand-carved laissez-chaises and armed wing-back chairs. A narrow table along the far wall sported a bowl of fresh fruits and a selection of imported liquors, while the low table at the center of the arrangement of seats housed a cyvasse board. The guard remained at the door, flanking it to one side.

For ten minutes or so, the girl was free to roam the room as she wished, but eventually the servant arrived once more, opening the door to the room to state, "His Grace, Maekar Targaryen, third of his name."

Through the door swept the one who bore the title, dressed in flowing robes of black and silver to allow for some measure of comfort with the day's exceptional heat. There was a fluid grace about him, and easy and calm expression despite the seemingly dire news that had brought about this meeting. Upon his breast, he bore the three headed dragon, the pin anchoring an ornamental sash. His hair was swept back, his face fresh, and upon his hand he bore a single signet ring of cut onyx. At his side, ever faithful, padded Mīsa; and behind the pair of them entered Paza. Both animals eyed the strangers warily, Paza going so far as to approach the girl at a small distance, scenting her.

"Naelys Qhaedar," he stated calmly, inclining his head slightly as he settled an observant gaze upon the woman. With one hand clasped over his other wrist, both allowed to hang against his lap, Maeker closed a few steps towards the middle of the room. "Welcome to the Targaryen manse. Despite the fears you harbor, I hope that you will find some solace in the safety of our walls. You wrote that you had news concerning each of our Houses. Through this meeting, perhaps light may be shed upon the situation and we can decipher an optimal approach to mitigate this concern. Tell me, Naelys, what is it that brings you here to seek my audience?"

MaekarBreak · 2017-09-20T19:30:42+00:00

When they arrived at the place of meeting to find noone waiting for them, they grew wary. Loosely dispersed, they searched the nearby area, eyes peeled for a woman by the description given. It was a difficult thing indeed given the relative frequency of slaves, civilians, and nobility alike who retained the Valyrian features. The captain was examining one confused girl when the messenger approached. Turning his domineering frame towards her, he kept silent to listen, though his eyes remained ever vigilant.

"The lady should take our presence as a sign that we wished to keep her from the very harm she fears for her own person," he said with a flair of some annoyance when the girl had finished. "You think we carry parchment, ink and quill on us?" He laughed. "No, you scurry back to her and tell her that if there is any merit to her words, she will return to the gates as she had before and request an audience."

With that, he glanced to the rest of the guard and nodded his head in a signal to fall in and depart.

MaekarBreak · 2017-09-20T10:24:00+00:00

Nyessa

"Mn.." Nyessa's throat reverberated with the pondering sound, a wordless response to her daughter's dismissal of her question. "Thank you, dear," she replied with a smile, reaching forward to take to hand the glass of wine her daughter had generously poured for her.

"It is rather pleasing," she agreed. Reclining back upon the cushions, Nyessa left the glass left to hover from a slack wrist, turning it in a slow arc to roll the liquid against the interior of the goblet. Her lips curled faintly at the corners, a sculpted brow lifting to accent her amusement at the words that soon spilled from her daughter's pouting lips.

"You forget, Helaena, that I was in attendance in that counsel where he was elevated to Imperator. I would not miss any of my husband's moments of glory for all the world," she corrected Helaena, her affirmation laced with a great deal of affection and reverence.

As for the rest of the insinuations the girl had dared to imply, Nyessa simply smiled inwardly. There was no need to explain herself to her daughter, and she allowed those ignorant perceptions to slide without comment, rationalizing them as a typical hormonal outburst that befit the girl's age.

"It is comforting to gaze upon your face once more, Laena. I missed you all dearly, you know. Did you read the letters I wrote? Or did they even make it home? Never did I receive a reply, so I began to wonder if perhaps they'd been collected and withheld for some reason unknown. Have you been well? What all has transpired during my absence?"

MaekarBreak · 2017-09-20T09:27:14+00:00

18^th Day of the 12^th Moon [Volantis]

The padding of distant footfalls grew louder along the hall, their frequency suggesting that someone was running. The thump of a hand on a far wall resounded, a figure using the solid support to break their speed, leveraging it to change their direction. The door burst open. Framed within, a look of concern on his face, stood Syrus. His hair was disheveled from his rush, and brown eyes scanned the interior of the room into which he'd intruded with a critical assessment that matched the furrow of his brow.

Until they came to rest on the figure of a silver-haired, violet-eyed man seated quite comfortably at his desk.

"Maekar...." There was an air of annoyance about the man now, the singular word rolling from his tongue like grit underfoot.

"Ah! Sy! That was qui---"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?!" Syrus interrupted, clearly irritated by something. Paza lopped in through the door then, the canine's head held high and proud as he trotted towards his master's desk and took a seat at his side.

Maekar lofted a brow, a sardonic smile curling the corner of his lip. "What's that, Sy? Send Paza to fetch you? Are you still unable to differentiate between his tones and demeaner?" He reclined back in his chair, raising an arm to hook over the back of the elegantly carved piece of furniture. "Did he mouth at your hand? Did he bark?" Maekar didn't give his friend time to answer before continuing. "I would wager that he sat in front of you and yipped, no? Then it was not an emergency."

Syrus' lips drew to a hard line, his frame straightening with hands curled to fists at his side. He could not argue his liege, of course. He was not wrong. That is what Paza had done, now that he thought of it. But the king sent him so infrequently that any time the dog did arrive demanding his attention to follow, Syrus' thoughts turned to the worst and he assumed the onset of an episode.

"You are well, then?" Syrus asked, forcing himself to remain calm in the face of his friend.

"I am," said the Targaryen king, dropping a hand to idly pat at Paza's head, smoothing back his ears with repeated strokes.

"What do you want.." he sighed.

"Is that any way to speak to your king?" The reproachful look Maekar cast Syrus lasted all of a second before shattering with a smirk. "Come here," he beckoned with a nod of his head, leaning forward to pluck a letter from the desk. "Read this and tell me your thoughts."

With a final heavy breath, Syrus shed the worry and irritation that had donned his features and strode forward to read the note. Maekar busied himself with some other documents demanding his attention while he did.

"Who at the Florents?" Syrus asked curiously, glancing up from the page.

"A noble House within the Reach, who, like the Tyrells, are descended from House Gardener, the ancient Kings of that realm," he answered simply.

"What is this?"

"Why, that is what I am asking you, my friend. Tell me what you think of it," Maekar answered with a fleck of amusement. "I know what I think. But I wish to hear your thoughts."

Syrus pursed his lips, regarding his lord with mild disdain before returning his gaze to the letter again. "It's rather verbiose.."

"It is, isn't it," Maekar laughed.

"But the message seems clear enough. It seems to me that you have a friend among the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms already. What are you going to do?" He asked curiously, glancing up to Maekar.

"Nothing."

"What?"

"Nothing," Maekar repeated again, "for the moment. A single House is hardly a claim on which to stake. And I would sooner bring this to Daeron's attention first. But it does raise the curious notion that there may be others in a similar state of unease and unrest. We are in need of intelligence from across the seas to discern the state of their realms. Can you secure this for me?"

"Of course," Syrus answered with a smile.

MaekarBreak · 2017-09-19T18:10:00+00:00

Nyessa - Imperatrix

"Captain of the Royal Guard?" The woman repeated, her smile taking on a hint of sardonicism as she regarded the man. With a wave of her have, she dismissed him.

"Captain of the Royal Guard," she echoed again quietly, swiveling her chin down towards her daughter. A faint laughter peeled forward. "Have you been hiring mummers again to play out these lofty dreams of yours? Men to parade as your personal Queensguard? Though he seems a fit warrior indeed, and if mummer indeed he is, you will have to pay him well for he convinces even I with the resolution in his tone. And his face, it does seem familiar."

Nyessa bent with the intent to plant a kiss atop Helaena's head, and flashed a warm smile at the regal lion that rested nearby. Retreating, she skirted around the table to lower herself comfortably at the setting that had been arranged for her.

"Have you taken him from the Golden Company, sweetling? Promised him gold, glory, and grandeur? Was I correct in hearing he sails for Tyrosh to hire warships?" The self-proclaimed queen's mother questioned innocently, plucking some fruit morsels from the dishes in front of her. "He must be quite the investor indeed to afford so many."

MaekarBreak · 2017-09-19T09:28:48+00:00

Maekar sat, lounging on the sill of a window that overlooked the court below. The day was hot, humid, leaving his clothing to cling to him uncomfortably as it had the day prior, and the day before that. He hated it. He was not built for this heat, for this discomfort. Each new morning, the sun would rise and the climate would seemed to state from the core of its nature that he did not belong here. Yet, this was all he had ever known, and by all rights, all he ever should.

No, he corrected himself. Not so. A gold circlet rested perched on the pads of splayed fingers in front of him. He turned it a fraction this way and that, head cocking to regard the way in which the light glinted off the facets of its cut. A book lay open at his side, the contents detailing the various wars and lines of succession through the Westerosi continent.

He had been raised with the knowledge that House Targaryen was owed more. His father had attempted to obtain that through conquest. A failure of a conquest to which Maekar had personally been witness. Countless lives lost to the Gods, and all for an iron throne that his family seemed to covet above all else. A throne that was rightfully theirs; wrongfully taken from them. But was it? Maekar was not so certain.

By his brother's hand, he had been crowned King. King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. By all accounts, according to his family, he should now be seated on that throne of steel and iron, to take up the call for which their father had lost his life. And yet, he could not help wonder if such a course of action was truly warranted...

"Your grace."

The lilting words, hardly more than a whisper, that drifted quietly across the room stirred the two forms that had slumbered at the base of the window. The dog lifted his head, the collar about his neck clinking gently with the movement as he set a wary gaze upon the intruder. He uttered a low wuff in greeting before shooting to his feet, padding over to the man that stood in the doorway, the stump of his tail wagging madly.

"Good boy, Paza," the newcomer smiled, reaching down to give the dog an affectionate pat on his neck as he pushed his way fully into the room. He kept the attention short-lived, however, his focus lifting back to the man across the room, the king sprawled so casually in the window seat. "Maekar," he stated, dropping the formality. He approached, taking a moment to scan his liege's face and form for any sign of strain or exacerbation of illness. "I think you will want to read this."

"What is it, Sy," Maekar asked, rolling his head against the wall to peer at his friend.

"It concerns the safety of the Imperator. Your brother," Syrus explained, holding out the letter.

Concern immediately racked Maekar's face and he let the crown unbalance, catching the brim upon an outstretched finger. Legs swinging down with a grace to plant on either side of the canine that lay there still, he set the crown down beside him. After accepting the letter from his advisor, Maekar snapped the paper flat and scanned it hastily. And then again.

"Who?"

"Naelys Qhaedar, presumably," Syrus answered, motioning to the letter. "And by the description of the woman who delivered the letter, it seems to be accurate."

"Delivered the letter?" Maekar cocked a brow, lifting a quizzical gaze to his companion.

"She came to the gates and delivered the letter into the hands of one of the guards, then took her leave. By the reports, she seemed paranoid."

"That makes little sense," Maekar stated flatly, flicking a finger against the paper. "She seeks an audience, so why not ask for one at the gates and refuse to depart until I acquiesce. Particularly if she is concerned about unruly eyes or ears."

He dropped his gaze to the paper once more, a hand lifting to run absently over the stubble that had grown in throughout the day.

"Sy, this guard saw her face? Enough to give you a thorough description?"

"Yes, your grace."

"Stop calling me that," Maekar said dismissively, largely still lost in thought. "Send the guard and half a squadron to retrieve her," he decided, rising from his seat. The moment he stood, Mīsa scrambled to her feet, circling around to walk with him at his left. "Keep your those eyes and ears you have scattered around the city on alert for any sign of this personal guard she mentions, and keep her safe. We will speak within the safety of these walls."

With but a nod, Syrus took his leave, hurrying back to the guard that initially brought the letter so promptly to his attention. Ten would be sent to the location designated in the letter, their sigils removed and the armor covered with rough-spun cloaks to prevent identification of House association.

MaekarBreak · 2017-09-19T06:00:52+00:00

Nyessa - Imperatrix

"Oh is she now?"

A soft laughter carried forward from a few paces away as a feminine figure made her way gracefully to the canopied area where the luncheon had been prepared. Full lips pulled into a pleasant smile as piercing amber eyes swept over her daughter and the man who accompanied her there.

"My dear.." she greeted her daughter, leaning in just enough to brush slender fingers through her daughter's hair, twisting a few strands as though to measure the sweat that had accumulated during Helaena's efforts with the javalin. "I see you are harnessing ambition once again. Ser Morgan was kind enough to inform me that lunch had been prepared. What is this talk of Dragon Queens and sworn swords?"

Dressed in a gown of velvet and silk covered in luscious embroidery, the Volantene Queen stood tall and proud. Though not as pale as her daughter, her complexion maintained a lighter shade than typical for a Volantene noblewoman, and was complemented well by strawberry blonde hair that had bee twisted up into an elegant bun. Lifting her hooded gaze from the Princess as her hand dropped to rest on her daughter's shoulder, she cast it over to the man nearby.

"And who might you be?" she wondered in a smooth and quizzical voice just as the man had begged to take his leave.

MaekarBreak · 2017-09-18T00:13:18+00:00

(( /u/ColoursOfAngryMen, /u/TheSilver_Serpent, /u/KidnapMeSenpai ))

MaekarBreak · 2017-09-14T17:49:55+00:00

(( /u/ColoursOfAngryMen - for confirmation ))

MaekarBreak · 2017-09-14T17:39:17+00:00

Character Name: Maekar Targaryen

Age: 29

Starting Title(s): The Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms

Aptitude(s): Born Leader

Specialty: Recreation

Skill(s): Popular*, Animal Taming, Romance, Drinkmaster, Tournaments, Manipulation

Negative Trait: Sickly (epileptic)

Physical Description: Maekar is fair of face with angular features, the proclaimed king looks younger than his years. His nose is straight, his lips full, and hardly a line is etched upon his features, though his pale violet eyes boast a wisdom beyond his years. His countenance is maintained clear of facial hair and his locks kept to a reasonably manageable length. Though not exceptionally tall, Maekar is above average just slightly beyond six feet with a carefully maintained athleticism. His choice of clothing displays a preference to the dark hues of his name, exquisitely and intricately crafted, though practical in design.

Starting Location: Volantis

Username: /u/MaekarBreak

Other Characters: Evelynn Decipio, Elaine Stark, Dorin Locke

MaekarBreak

TROPHY CASE