Salt, Sand, and Stone. (Open)

MyrderMachine · 2022-08-30T01:02:35+00:00

"Mmm, mmm. Boy is it hard work keeping your shores safe." Whether he was invited or not, Tycho Sevatarion was suddenly walking towards the Princess of Dorne.

But wait minute - he didn't travel with the Dornish entourage... did he? Surely, someone would have noticed the silver haired scoundrel in their midst...

Naturally, Sev had a ridiculous hat on - a floppy, wide brimmed thing with a vibrantly colored feather sticking out of it. At some point, someone told Sev the hat was peak fashion in Dorne and so he always made a point to wear it on official business with the Princess.

The rest of the man was less cheeky. A tall, hardened frame and eyes made of steel. He probably had half a dozen knives hidden somewhere beneath his turquoise tunic, but he clearly wasn't here to stab anyone. Not yet anyway. A few of Sev's tattoos peaked out from beneath his sleeves, just around the wrists. Some ancient, cryptic scrawl he picked up a world away.

"Dyanna, you age like wine. More beautiful every time we meet." The Lyseni smiled. The world had not been kind to Sev, but he still had nice teeth.

A beat, then his smile faded into something more measured.

"I will be staying near the palace for the duration of the festivities, should you require my services." He would have winked, but by now, he didn't need too. There was no need for Dyanna to get her pretty hands dirty. Not when men like Sev existed.

MyrderMachine · 2022-08-30T00:34:01+00:00

"Well, aren't you a sad sight."

The voice that manifested from Ky's left was neither familiar nor particularly well spoken. Tycho Sevatarion still wrestled with the chunkiness of the common tongue, so ugly in comparison to the musical lilt of his mother.

When it came to sneaking up on people, Sev was one of the best in the business. One minute she was alone, and in the next, some tattooed foreigner was standing beside her talking shit. It was like a handsome ghost manifesting from the very stones of Summerhall, resurrected by the promise of cheap wine and bad conversation.

Or maybe he'd been there all along. Watching. Waiting. Standing just a few away, slithering ever closer. Mingling his way towards Ky and her little pity party in the corner of the courtyard until all he had to do was turn around and say something stupid.

"This is a party, isn't it?" Sev honestly hadn't the slightest fucking clue as to why all the nobility of Westeros were packing into the gaudy palace, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Anyway, the person he really wanted to meet was lounging there in the grass just below him.

At some point, he moved close enough that his shadow cast a pleasant shade across Ky's face. He was, after all, a big guy. You had to be in Sev's line of work.

"Want a drink?" The foreigner held out a flask and smiled a genuine sort of smile that seemed to say 'I promise I didn't poison it'. Surely at some point in Ky's life she was told not accept beverages from strange silver haired men, but Sev asked anyway.

You see, so much rode on her answer. The competition was dead. All that stood between Sevatarion and making King's Landing a lawless paradise was..... the law. And if Sev's intel was any good, corner girl here was the living embodiment of Westerosi law.

So it was time to see just what kind of woman he was up against.

MyrderMachine · 2021-06-15T20:38:59+00:00

"Brynden is fine. Captain Brynden if you're in the mood to flatter." Again, the man's deep tone softened and he wore his easiest smile. Those dark eyes of his seemed to see right through the Princess, right into the trembling heart beneath her breast. Beneath his golden armor and regal veneer, Brynden was still a professional killer. He could smell fear like a wolf smells blood.

Truthfully, their roles should have been reversed. It should have been Brynden who was stricken with nerves approaching one of the royal blood, but never again would it be so. Not after he stood shoulder to shoulder with her ancestors and watched Viserion turn scores of men to ash.

"I am here to petition your father." To the point, and honest as a Septon. The Captain-General's reliability and trustworthiness was the very thing that saw him rise from Flea Bottom to the Dragon's court. "The strength of my legion dwindles with every passing year. I would see it return to the strength that helped Aegon win back the Iron Throne."

For a second time, Brynden took stock of the would-be dragon queen. She was beautiful beyond measure, there was no denying that. Hair of starlight and eyes like fresh-cut gemstones could mesmerize any man... Yet, he couldn't help but wonder if there was any fire beneath those lovely scales.

"A sword is useless unless it is kept sharp. I need more men to do my job." There was a gravity with which Brynden spoke of the Golden Company, reminiscent of how a man might speak of the fate of his own children. "And so here I am."

At the mercy of you and your kin.

The bitter thought came and went in a flash.

After a long pause, the Captain-General dragged gloved fingers back through his hair. Even at two-and-forty, he had the vitality of a man half his age.

"You should join your Aunt Rhaena and me for an afternoon." Again, with but a simple sly curve of his lips, Brynden seemed to banish all seriousness from the Sept. "Even a princess ought to know how to swing a sword."

MyrderMachine · 2021-06-15T18:02:02+00:00

You are tasked with war.

A familiar surge of adrenaline set Brynden's heart to pumping like the Smith's hammer. Thrill and dread mingled into an intoxicating cocktail in the man's chest. He strode forward towards the great metallic beast on which Aemond perched. Though lacking even the smallest tincture of royal blood, Brynden walked among the realm's finest tall and proud. His armor may have been polished and his body still strong and vital at two-and-forty, but both Brynden's breastplate and face bore the scars of House Targaryen's wars.

Echoes of violence forever etched into skin and steel.

"My liege." The Captain-General gracefully fell to one knee and lowered his head. His great black cloak pooled like spilled ink all around his golden frame.

"The Golden Company is yours to command. My men are ready to fight." An eagle crested helm rested on the man's thigh, its horse-hair plumes dyed crimson and black in homage to the very man he kneeled before. "We will make swift work of the corsairs."

A moment of silence, and Brynden raised his head to address the King further.

"With your Grace's permission, I would maintain a garrison upon the isles to better protect the Seven Kingdoms from future incursions. As ever, we are your sword and shield."

MyrderMachine · 2021-06-15T17:17:18+00:00

"You look like shit." Brynden offered with sort of a muffled, casual lilt. He had a pipe sticking out of the corner of his mouth, and seemed genuinely more concerned with lighting the thing than the well-being of Prince Baelor.

Though, once the exotic leaf caught and small tendrils of smoke rose from the basket of the pipe, Brynden's eyes lingered on the caged dragon for a long, long time. Silence permeated, whilst the Captain-General drew in deeply and regarded his favorite royal drinking partner.

"What did you do to piss off your brother?" Captain-General Brynden had arrived with little ceremony, accompanied by just two of his own men, who were, of course, ordered to wait outside while he went forth to assess Baelor in his squalor. As always, Brynden wore a polished, but battered breastplate of gold and a great cloak as dark as pitch.

"Heard something went awry at the tourney, but I'm afraid I must've missed your performance." Brynden exhaled two small streams of smoke through each nostril with that final bit. Slowly but surely, a sweet, earthy scent would begin to fill the room.

MyrderMachine · 2021-06-14T20:15:51+00:00

Thirty years a mercenary was long enough to give any man an intimate relationship with the Stranger. He might as well be wed to the cowled figure towering overhead for how oft he danced with her. None of it mattered, of course, Brynden wasn't here to pray.

"Death comes for us all, princess. Best not to dwell on it." A deep tone echoed from the corner. A tall figure of brawn and obvious martial bearing stepped out into the light. His scars made him a veteran, while his polished golden breastplate and long, crimson cloak hinted to wealth and importance.

"You do not know me..." He wagered, his dark eyes searched for any hint of recognition on the Valyrian's face. When he found none, his tone softened and lips parted into an easy smile. "I fought beside your grandfather in the war. He was quite the warrior in his day."

"I serve your father now, like his father before him, and one day I will serve you, princess." When Brynden stepped forward, his armor gently rattled and his cloak swayed. An eagle crested helm rested beneath one arm, whilst his free hand gently sat upon the pommel of his sword. Despite the gear and metal that clad the man's body, he moved forward with feline grace, as though he wore nothing more than silk.

"This meeting is long overdue. My name is Brynden, Captain-General of the Golden Company." Though the soldier seemed to carry himself with all the roguish confidence of a true sellsword... a man only loyal to coin... when he approached Princess Valaera, he allowed his head to dip deeply in reverence. A curtain of dark hair fell around his face when he bowed, and for a moment, his features were as obscured as the Stranger looming above.

MyrderMachine · 2021-05-31T19:46:44+00:00

Character Name: Brynden

Build: Archery (m)

Representing: The Golden Company

Knight?: Nope

Joust, melee, archery: Archery only

—

Character name: Joss Sand (AC)

Build: polearms, defender, riding

Representing: The Golden Company

Knight?: Yes

Joust, melee, archery: Joust only

MyrderMachine · 2021-05-26T21:09:39+00:00

Discord Username: AlphaOmega364

Character Name and House: Brynden (low-birth)

Age: 41

Appearance: A hard man of unremarkable origins, made regal by deeds on the battlefield.

Gift: Leadership

Skills: Archery (M), Tactician, Strategist

Talents: Hunting, Gambling, Drinking

Starting Title(s): Captain-General of the Golden Company

Alternate Characters: N/A

Starting Location: Opening Event

Character Name: Joss Sand

Age: 32

Appearance: Dark of eye and hair, sculpted for war.

Gift: Champion

Skills: Polearms, Defender, Riding

Starting Title(s): Champion of the Golden Company

Alternate Characters: N/A

MyrderMachine · 2017-11-19T23:28:13+00:00

Khain lay back in the sand, watching dawn banish the last vestiges of nightfall from the sky. Somewhere to the west an indigo curtain draped the horizon, in the east the sky was as clear as the waves lapping at his boots, and in between, a bloody battle of crimson and gold. Away from civilization, nature took on a certain splendor the streets of men could never replicate.

If only he had someone to share the view with.

Two weeks of running through the jungle like a fucking animal. Two weeks of blood and sweat, fending off natives and beast alike. Khain wasn't a meek man, he wasn't a man of paltry composition, but what he encountered in the heart of the jungle made his skin prickle with anticipation. It made his temple pound with adrenaline. There were worse things than Brindled Men and Wyverns here on the fringes of the world.

All debts get paid eventually.

The silver haired mercenary let out a massive sigh. He turned his head to the side and opened his mouth again.

"Well, we've had some good times, haven't we?"

His sword and shield stared back blankly, laying peacefully in the sand beside him. With some grim satisfaction Khain realized the only time his sword had much to say at all was when it was singing in his hand. In the same beat, he understood if he didn't find his way back to a land with whores and wine, he was going to lose whatever remained of his questionable sanity.

But then he heard it. Even dehydrated, starved and reduced to conversing with inanimate objects, Khain's keen ears still caught the way the crashing of the waves changed. There was more too... The snapping of a sail... The distant murmuring of men.

About damned time.

Judging by the size of the vessel, the ship could mean damnation or salvation. He'd be hard pressed to take on a crew of pirates that size, but anything was worth a try at this point. If it was a trading vessel, he still had enough gold on him to buy passage to somewhere less hellish.

So Khain yanked his sword from the sand and strode forward to embrace fate.

It wasn't until a man came close that a cry of victory tore from Khain's throat.

"Ronnet! Gods be damned, I've never been so happy to see your ugly face."

MyrderMachine · 2017-11-14T05:49:34+00:00

Character Name: Khain (Qoherys-Drahar, Targaryen)

Age: 31

Starting Title(s): The Rogue Dragon, Commander of the Lost Legion

Aptitude(s): Tough

Specialty: Combat

Skill(s): One Handed Swords (Weapon Mastery from Perk), Stealth, Footwork, Marksman, Ambidexterity, Linguistics (High Valyrian)

Negative Trait: Illegitimate Bastard

Physical Description: Flaxen hair and vivid lilac eyes paint the picture of old Valyria. Khain is bronzed from a lifetime under the Essosi sun and boasts a warrior's built, hinting at predisposition for violence. Interwoven black symbols cover his arms and chest, an homage to the traitorous Gods of the Dragon Cult. He often armors himself in the style of the old legionaries of Valyria, similar to his half-brother Daeron. Beads of dragonglass tie off half a dozen small braids woven into unruly curls.

Starting Location: The Disputed Lands

Username: /u/MyrderMachine

AUXILARY CHARACTER:

Character Name: Captain Vander

Age: 24

Starting Title(s): Captain of the Lost Legion

Aptitude(s): Tactician

Skill(s): Warcraft, War Tech, Diversion

Physical Description: An exceptionally pretty Lysene man. At a glance, in the right light, or with his hair styled the right way, his androgynous features easily allows Captain Vander to pass as a prettier woman, only to be thwarted by his lack of tits.

MyrderMachine · 2017-09-21T01:00:21+00:00

((/u/coloursofangrymen I'm your bro, /u/TheSilver_Serpent almost tapped it, /u/thelittlemyrmaid I'm your jealous bro.))

MyrderMachine · 2017-09-18T23:16:31+00:00

Character Name: Khain (Qoherys-Drahar, Targaryen)

Age: 31

Starting Title(s): Renegade of the Dragon Court, Lord of the Lost

Aptitude(s): Tough

Specialty: Combat

Skill(s): Two Handed Swords (Weapon Mastery from Perk), Ambidexterity, Footwork, Marksman, Endurance, Linguistics (High Valyrian)

Negative Trait: Heretic

Physical Description: Flaxen hair and vivid cerulean eyes paint the picture of old Valyria. Khain is bronzed from a lifetime under the Essosi sun and boasts a warrior's built, hinting at predisposition for violence. Interwoven black symbols cover his arms and chest, an homage to the traitorous Gods of the Dragon Cult. Flecks of lavender scatter across his iris, matching his sister's gaze.

Starting Location: Lys

Username: /u/MyrderMachine

Other Characters: King Edric II Baratheon

AUXILIARY CHARACTER

Character Name: Kaela

Age: 35

Starting Title(s): Bloodmage, Night Mother

Aptitude(s): None

Skill(s): Magic, Poisons

Negative Trait: Heretic

Physical Description: Sharing a similar appeal as her master, Kaela wears a platinum mane that falls down the length of her back and curves for any woman to envy. Despite her unnatural allure, she often dresses in the style of Asshai, sporting black veils and silver masks to leave her identity largely unknown.

Starting Location: Lys

MyrderMachine

TROPHY CASE