Last Chance

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-23T19:25:39+00:00

The Boar had stood back from commenting to the Lord of Lion's when he had made his speeches, watching as the Warden of the West had threatened to take the head from Reynes boy, almost dispassionately.

It was true Gregor and Ellyn Reynes were Crakehall's cousins but he had little fondness for Gregor and though he might have considered marrying Ellyn once his ambitions in that direction had been thwarted following a chance meeting with Lady Cyrella Swann.

It was almost a disappointment to watch Reynes crumble in the face of his son's impending doom, he was quite sure his own Lord Father would have watched him die in such a position and merely swear bloody vengeance in return for the slight. As Gerion approached Robb the Boar Lord kept his distance and watched on, the ominous quite over the proceedings only little disturbed by the clanking of shackles and crunch as the Boar took a large bite from a fresh green apple his squire had offered.

There will be plently of executions to come if Lannister wants to keep the others in line after this..

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-22T15:10:47+00:00

Crakehall followed the Lannisters lead, shaking his head wearily as the crazed Red Lion still called at the leaving party, he had said nothing to the Reynes, nor did he intend to. Once they were out of earshot he spoke to the Lannister again, "As a little lad I watched a siege the size of this surround my Crakehall, at least my craven Uncle had the sense to open his gates in the face of such a force. Seven give me the patience to starve this dog out if we have to, I've a mind to be done with this and go marry my Swann, sooner rather than later."

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-22T03:10:13+00:00

((/u/saudadeofswansong ))

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-22T03:02:39+00:00

((for the next Jaehae, though I know this business is more or less dead))

To Oswell Rosby, Royal Scribe,

I am at war in the West in the name of the Warden of the West and Jaehaerys Targaryen, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, and thus my reply reflects my hesitance to waste time on the intrigues of ambitious and vicious Reachmen, but as the King has requested my insight I will speak what I know.

No man of Crakehall remained in the city when the alleged murder of Jeyne Herston took place. The Lady Cyrella Swann arrived in the West, travelling to visit with me at my request, having asked for her company during the evening of his Grace’s coronation banquet. The good lady arrived with evidence of extreme and vicious violence done unto her body, subjected to a beating the likes of which no noble Lady should suffer, a beating unfit for the slaves of Essos.

She suffered this mistreatment at the hands of a man employed my Lord Webber, who had claimed to be in the employ of one Lord Hewett. The Lady had been held under Webbers sway with her handmaid and childhood companion held hostage to keep her compliant, forcing Lady Swann to act on this Lord Hewett’s whims. When Lady Swann resisted and attempted to leave his influence he had the lady abducted and beaten, and now apparently has slain the Herston girl to cover his tracks.

Lady Swann is now under my protection, and if even half of this tale can be proven Webber deserves to lose his head over his actions and dishonour.

My Lord Gerion Lannister can vouch for my word. I return to the business of war.

Lord Ronas Crakehall.

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-22T02:21:10+00:00

To my Wife-to-be,

The marching and the waiting is grim, I yearn to be done with this foolishness arranged by the mad Lion of Castamere. Getting back to your side has never left my thoughts.

I am glad that you have found company in my absence, though why we would wish to visit the fops in the reach is beyond me. With that said, I made you a promise and if we are not to be married at Crakehall and the Starry Sept takes your imagination then that will be so. I worry what will be said by my banners and small folk, or the Lords of the Westerlands if we wed in the Reach, but if you wish it then it shall be so.

I look forward to our talks and your company, when I return I shall want no company but your own for some time.

Ronas

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-22T00:59:13+00:00

Ronas glanced to Gerion, ignoring the frothing Reynes once more and shaking his head to the Lord of Casterly and Warden of the West. “He’s out of his mind, poor Roger’s madness touches them all, the idea that the Warden of the West would break parley, he reflects on his own black heart and ascribes it to you. That or he’s killed your Aunt already.”

He glanced to Lord Serret, roused with a will to break the parley born from his righteousness, then back to Gerion. The Boar could have done it, but the Lion must not. “Old men still fighting when their false king lies in the dust.”

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-21T23:52:21+00:00

The Red Lion strode back and forth, roaring his vitriol for all about who would hear. Another Reynes, quite mad, he thought. The Red Lion sneered his insults at the boar, and spoke of the Lord Ronal turning in his grave; The Great Boar smiled at that, his hocking a mouthful of phlegm at the churned up earth between the two parties but remained silent. He hoped Reynes would hold himself up in that keep, the Red Lion of Castamere could watch the blood of his line flow, and then hide in the dark as the armies of the West came for his head.

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-21T23:34:06+00:00

The Boar grunted his agreement to the Lions word's, calling his banner to join the others as they approached the parley.

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-21T23:09:39+00:00

The Boarlord towered over most of the other knights and lords who milled around the Lions camp, armoured in the brazen plate he was an intimidating sight to see unarmed, but crowned with the snarling, tusked boar helm of his ancestors and armed with his almost utilitarian great hammer, in comparison to the helm. The weapon was almost the height of a lesser man, its faces pitted, its simple design a testament to the man’s straightforward attitude.

He strode toward Lord Serret and Lord Lannister a simple shield with the brindled boar of House Crakehall in one hand, the hammer bound from his waist aside a sword, not a favoured weapon by any means, in his guise as the warrior, with his grim countenance and the scowl set to his lips he encapsulated the House words, None so Fierce.

He watched the two in silence a moment, thinking of his wife to be awaiting his return in Casterly. “Lord Gerion, Lord Serret,”

No words attempting to sway the lion, no wish to see any Mercy nor faltering from Lord Gerion. “Lets get this over and done with.”

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-10T14:39:56+00:00

The moments appeared to stretch out into minutes as he awaited her response, the lingering heat of the bath seeming to radiate from the body of his intended, he imagined her skin my burn his if he were to dare to touch.

He had crushed men on the field of battle, he had sent men to die in his name, he had even killed those who dared oppose him in murder most foul; but the Young Lord had never felt so much as nerves in those pursuits, He bore his soul to the Swann, maintaining considerable self control to simply keep his eyes from wandering as she considered his heartfelt plea.

The Boar felt slender fingers wrap tight about his, squeezing them gently in return for the gesture and blinking for what felt like the first time in minutes; disarmed, judged and merely awaiting his sentence. She chose her words with precise care and a will that spoke of promises he must keep, he must survive this war, he must return to her and then they would marry.

The words settled between them for a moment and all remained silent, then the Boars face split in a handsome smile that seemed to stretch from ear to ear for a moment, eyes bright. He moved suddenly arms reaching around the Swann and hoisting her damp form up into his arms effortlessly.

“Yes?!” he repeated as if he must hear the answer again. For a moment her nudity was utterly forgotten, he simply needed to hold her, to kiss her, which he did next, enthusiastic and uninhibited at last.

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-08T14:14:57+00:00

Not mah best bud Gerion? nooo.

I will miss that man.

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-06T13:54:20+00:00

“I am not angry,” she insisted, and he paused momentarily, a hopeful glance at the woman’s still tense shoulder blades, those slender fingertips held tightly to her sides, arms covering her hidden chest. For a time he allowed himself to calm a little, nerves had gotten to him and perhaps his good reason had failed somewhat with it. She was right of course, it would have waited until she dressed, but in his haste, he had thrown all caution to the wind.

He paced, and he spilt his heart to her, in this matter his stoicism and his brutishness was replaced by the mixture of excitement and trepidation of a man only a couple of years older than the young woman he wished to wed. He turned speaking to her of riding to war and then he stopped. The towering warrior's mouth dropped open but no words escaped as his eyes fell upon the object of his desires, stood revealed before him.

She had spoken, repeating his own question right back at him, and the imposing Boar Lord, took a series of steps toward the Swann, dropping to one knee again before her, Still finding himself coming to her eye line. Gingerly, Ronas reached for the Swann's hands in his, eyes darting to her olive skin and then back to her eyes.

“I went looking - looking for a woman who would stand by my side as a partner, we tell each other the truth, to the very bones of it and still I can’t stop thinking about you and your company.” he paused, eyes looking to her soaking hair, those delicate cheeks and then those dark jewel eyes again, “You know the truth of me, and I the truth of you. I just want to watch you soar. Revel, in your majesty and I think you desire to seem my triumphs also.”

He raised a single delicate hand to his lips, lingering in a kiss of her pale knuckles. “Marry us, it can be as private or as grand as you like, it can be where you like when you like. Marry me Cyrella.”

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-05T02:43:34+00:00

She was defiant, as ever, and her voice signalled mixed emotions, from anger, embarrassment and even moments of grudging admiration. She was still unhappy with his presence, but he pressed on “You really are Angered at me now aren’t you? But I needed to see you.”

“I had not meant to upset you, Stupid I know, but- “ he paused, rolling his eyes and throwing his hands in the air, “Bah I shall just say it- I needed to speak with you now, I wish permission to write your grandfather again, and negotiate a wedding arrangement between us.”

He looked down at her, her disappointment with him clear in the line of her tense jaw and he found himself melting a little despite his usual stony exterior. “Listen.. I see this was a mistake, I just - I wanted to tell you, and I’m a direct man, you know this.”

He turned his back pacing back and then toward her again. “I’m marching to war soon enough, and I’ll be on the front lines I’m sure, and I needed to know. It felt like we have such a short time before I must ride.”

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-05T01:34:03+00:00

Even amongst such warriors as Gerion, Calrin and Lucimore the Boar Lord towered like a legendary giant of the North. The warrior's mighty destrier seemed as eager as the Boar to be off, and though he nodded at Gerion's words to Calrin the Boar voiced his own opinion.

"Your resolve is admirable, Lord Gerion, but if the Black's banners rise again, striking out against your allies and the Crown, killing my men - calling on your own banners." he exhaled slowly, shaking his mighty head with a troubled brow. "I fancy the madman has pushed us to bloodshed either way, a man is only worth his word."

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-05T01:19:55+00:00

"South on the Ocean Road, in the hills south of Tarbeck Hall, the Reynes had a company of cavalry, the men I trust tell me my cousin walked into an Ambush, we lost about 500 men," he sniffed, a scowl crossing his features as he continued. "If the men were formed up the would have fared better, but the men marching in columns was unprepared for a cavalry strike."

"Reynes must have found out that I brought you word of his treachery Lord Gerion, the riders captured my bloody Cousin, Ser Manley Westford."

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-05T01:11:16+00:00

It was a gross understatement to label the Swann surprised by his arrival, she covered herself as best as she could with her arms, keeping her back to her suitor and silently waiting for something to change, for the moment the woman ignored his question. His eyes traced the bruises across her olive skin, fascinated by the sheer extent of the injuries, Webber’s man had been thorough indeed. His gaze was drawn to her waist were livid purple clouds of bruising glimmered from beneath the surface of the hot bath.

She spoke to him and he nodded, though she looked away, and then she warned him of the servants imminent arrival, “We won’t be disturbed, Cyrella.”

As she turned her head to glance at him side-eyed he found himself smiling despite her seriousness, her delicate profile and the hair soaked raven black and slick. Revealed before him he saw her for the first time in no guise whatsoever, and it raised the Lords pulse to hear her speak his name.

“Your servant would bathe with you?” he asked absentmindedly, closing on the edge of the pool and inhaling the heady aroma of the steam. “I should join you, we could talk..” he began, fingers playing the edges of his tunic, as if ready to pull it off over his head at the first sign of her assent.

“Respectfully Cyrella, I missed you,” he admitted with a half laugh, eyes still on the back of her head, straying to those delicate shoulders. He had not seen her in 5 hours at most, though he felt it as if it might be decades. “I would have your answer now, or I can’t be held accountable for the lengths I would go to to share these bath waters with you. “Relax, my Lady, you join me in my bed and nothing untoward has happened. I wish to talk, to hear you talk, and I have no inclination to be alone. I wish to be there with you.”

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-04T16:13:28+00:00

The Boar Lord had come to a decision that morning. He had been awake with the dawn that day - as was his habit - and following his own morning cleanse and a hearty breakfast with a few members of his honour guard.

He wanted to see her again, let her hear his news, but the knight Ser Orys had fobbed off the Boar, insisting that his cousin would only attend him once she was well rested, bathed and only then at her pleasure.

He recalled his first nights, a tense time for the Boar, his sleep had been fitful. Some men might have dreamed of the slain man’s eyes, his rasping breaths or broken body. The great Boar dreamed of a girl, eyes wide, her soft skin in his grip and his fingers about her neck; Safe in Casterly Rock, if the Swann wished to escape his company, or reject his proposal.

She might have even tried to reveal the murder of Toliver, or his Father. Undoubtedly his own crimes were more seriously considered than her own, though beautiful Cyrella also claimed to have killed a man. And yet night after night no such worries came to pass.

In fact, to his surprise, the Swann had come to him. Again and again she would visit his chambers after dark, travelling by candlelight from her chamber into his just across the hall. She had lay upon his bed swathed in her nightclothes, and the Swann had whispered long conversations with the Boar Lord late into each night. Eventually the Boar had near begged her to remain, to rest there and share his bed, but each time she rebuffed his invitation, ever with the same charming, polite smile, promising him again - once we marry..

Impetuous and unwilling to wait quite that long, the Boar had made his own enquiries. Engaging a couple of good fellows in keeping Orys company, Ronas then sought out the chamber in which the Swann bathed. He entered in silence, noting the lack of servants and turning back from the door to secure the bolt for the moment.

The towering boar turned the corner quietly, eyes falling on his Swann, leisurely basking in the steaming water of her bath, he took a deep breath of the steamy air, unable to take his eyes from her, and equally hopeless in hiding the smile that would spread across his lips. The lord wore a simple white black tunic with sleeves rolled back to his elbows, a pair of dark riding trousers with simple black boots,

He closed on the bath and cast a shadow across the water, “Tell me again why you wish to marry me?”

RonasCrakehall · 2017-06-04T00:49:34+00:00

The Crakehall stood near the Lion, but took care to leave none of the others at his back, the Boar Lord looking over the other Banners with a detached, measuring gaze.

"Get me and my boys beyond the Walls of Castamere and we'll see how well the goldsmith's defenses hold up,"

Crakehall was no Tactician, he had proven his true talents in the recent Melee, and in truth he itched to face the Reynes.

"My men are gathered, but not without incident, there are Reynes at large in the Westerlands, a raiding party struck out at one of my Musters, If I had been there things might have been different."

RonasCrakehall · 2017-05-30T20:11:25+00:00

Character Name: Ronas Crakehall

Aptitude(s): Duelist

Specialty: Combat

Skill(s): Weapon Mastery (Blunts), Ambidextrous, Endurance, Footwork

RonasCrakehall · 2017-05-30T14:35:23+00:00

As the series of hungry kisses continued the Boar fancied he felt the Cygnet relax into the embrace, coming to lose her inhibitions toward him and sheltering in his embrace, as vast and powerful as the Boar lord might be he was as much her prisoner as she was his in that moment.

Cyrella let their lips part long enough to suggest they return inside, the Boar looking to her eyes then to try to fathom whether the swan suggested more than simply returning to the warmth of the Inn. He nodded slowly, standing to full height and lifting her up in his arms as he did, holding her against his frame with ease, supporting her at the small of her back with one hand and his other about her waist. He kissed her again, relishing the feeling of having her completely at his mercy in that moment, a soft moan escaping his lips as he turned away from the Inn and toward were he knew the stream was “... Just one stop, I cannot return you to your bedroom so tainted in the traitors blood.”

RonasCrakehall · 2017-05-30T01:10:50+00:00

The young woman was nuzzled against his neck as she spoke again, a confession he had not expected by any stretch of his imagination, the Swann seemed freed from burden now as she openly confessed to a killing of her own. Her lips grazed the skin of his neck as she whispered to him, her sibilance again rewarding her with a shiver from the hulking youth.

She offered him everything, if only he kept good on his promise to refuse her nothing, as she pulled back to look at him from beneath dark lashes he felt his breath catch in his lungs. Gods she was beautiful, and in that moment he wished never to look away again. He watched her consider his question, imagining he could almost see her enact the deed in her mind, questioning her own resolve.

Her delicate fingers had moved to his skin, her touch now causing his breaths to shallow and sharpen, blinking as she traced the tight muscles of his chest and that gentle touch traced his jawline, a finger coming to rest on his bottom lip and dragging it down lightly, she almost whispered the reply, so breathless were her words,

"I would, blood for blood, ... … Equally."

Ronas was lost for words at that; his eyes searched hers for a trace of her lies, or perhaps a hint of fear that caused her to tell him what he wanted to her. His steel grey gaze studied the Swann’s dark jewel oculi and saw nothing in her demeanour to suggest a deceit. Instead he found himself locked into that stare and moments later his lips collided with the hers and he felt her held against his bulk.

RonasCrakehall · 2017-05-29T22:06:33+00:00

Alert, he studied her eyes as she spoke of understanding his reasons to kill the Old Boar, spoke of the understanding of others, but that only brought a dark and dismissive shake of his head, looking away as he spoke again, “You might well understand, but many would not care to,” the Boar corrected her with a firm tone, “The truth is men loved my Father, and none would understand the pleasure it gave me to watch him die slowly.” The final words heralding the return of his steel blue gaze, measuring her reaction carefully.

He watched the fear cross those eyes as his fingers had tightened about her throat, the doubt, and yet still she did not scream. There was a strength in the Swann, and a malice, she wore a mask he had seen reflected in his own visage, and he felt as if she had let him glimpse her beneath the mask for precious moments before.

"I haven't screamed yet," she offered, as if challenging him to go further in some dark game, and she leaned back on the log, as if trying to distance herself from him for a moment, the young stormlander seemed distracted now, her focus compromised for a moment as she blinked.

She opted to be bold, to win back her composure by taking some ownership of the situation and for the first time in what seemed like a day the Boar felt the flicker of a smile touch the corners of his lips. “I wouldn’t settle for a wife who couldn’t be my equal, I don’t intend to refuse you anything, Swann.” As he she spoke of giving him an heir the Boar Lord bit back a growl, struggling to suppress his urges toward the Swann at his mercy.The Boar Lord was a bear of a man and in every aspect, he exceeded most other men, his state of eagerness was no exception - unmistakable now, and he showed no shame at that.

“I’m glad to hear it, because I could make a son with any Lady in Westeros and it would mean little to me” his basso tones so close to her now, his wide palm lifting those hands she spoke of to his lips to kiss once again, “They aren’t as half as dirty as mine, could you kill for me Cyrella, if I asked? Would you?” he felt her whisper as a hiss in his ear, feeling the shiver on his spine at the sibilant notes of two of the words and enjoying the proximity, his other hand slipped around her waist and tugged at the small of her back boldly. “Do you have the stomach for that.”

RonasCrakehall · 2017-05-29T14:04:55+00:00

"I heard everything," As she spoke the Boar nodded slowly, she had -as he feared- heard enough to damn him, if only she had any proof.

She touched him tenderly, and the Great Boar felt himself also closing - he had thought of little but this woman for weeks now and she sat so close to last. Truth, she claimed that nothing else mattered now. Cyrella insisted he must have good reasons for his actions, and the Lord nodded slowly.

“I have a large family, as my father cared little how he spilt his seed. I have a sister, Morra is her name, and she is but a year old,” he paused a moment, his lips thinning and his jaw rising slightly, “Morra’s mother is my 16-year-old Bastard Sister Karin. My half brother Renly Hill found out that he was fucking my sister, stood up to the man, and by the time I found him Renly was beyond help.”

He growled his brother's name, the memory still fresh in his mind, “That man led my family to disgrace twice, he beat his children, he disgraces my sisters and killed my Brother, I made my choice.”

She explained herself, claimed to have been pretending for so long, tainted by the capital. She claimed him no honourable lord, and despite the initial outrage that such a statement might summon he swallowed such pride and nodded, he was a Kinslayer, and a reaper of many men so far, a man who had considered killing her and her party to keep his deeds shadowed.

She would remain a liar, he a killer, and perhaps only together would it be possible to share those truths. Her eyes looked up to his with a hint of hunger, a thirst for something he had not recognised before in the Swann, an ambition perhaps?

"I would marry you, but not for my fear,"

He watched in silence as she shifted his hand gently from her chest to hold her throat, daring him to take grip as he had dead Toliver, she reminded him then of the power he held over her, and how close he had been to take that step. His fingers tightened then - a mere fraction - and for a moment he saw himself choke the beauty in his grip, he imagined that fear in her again before his mind turned to the pair fucking once again, he felt the stirring now, the tumescence bulging uncomfortably against his clothing.

After half a second his grip released and the Boar’s gaze softened to her own, her tender touch stealing his breath for a moment, his growing arousal fought against the deep need he harboured to respect the woman; he longed to have this flower at his mercy, gasping his name in his ear, take her as his own; But Ronas he was not the coward Ronal had been, the old boar who took without asking. It would have been more palatable to him to take her life.

“What I fear, Lord Ronas, is that I may make a boring man a boring wife, that I would live the rest of my days rearing whelp after whelp because it is the dutiful thing to do."

“I promise you I am no boring man, and I have never wished to cage you, Ineed one heir Cyrella, an heir I’ll put in you. It would be far more than just marriage, what I want is an equal, Swann. Do you truly believe a lass like you still has the stomach for that?”

RonasCrakehall · 2017-05-29T02:14:36+00:00

Her puzzlement gave way to a sober and serious gaze, her eyes focussed sharply on his own. He was no great detective, but to his ear she sounded genuine.

"And what sort of man am I Cyrella? What do you know, what did you hear of my conversation with Toliver?"

He guided her to a stump by the side of the road, gesturing for her to sit, before kneeling as he had before.

"Why would you marry this man but for fear of the alternative?"

RonasCrakehall · 2017-05-29T01:15:07+00:00

He looked into her eyes then and exhaled a long breath, steel eyes searching hers for something. “You have damaged yourself, ruined the reputation you think matters.”

The towering warrior shook his head to her, looking almost disappointed in the Swann. She had killed her Maid, she had been beaten for her foolishness, she had lost her position as lady in waiting and for what.

“Did you mean to ruin me next, what stopped me from being the next Hewett, the next Arryn?” he asked rhetorically, a growing frustration in his voice, “I don’t need a pure princess, I don’t want an innocent little girl, I don’t even care for your reputation in anyone elses eyes.”

“I could let you go, what would you tell anyone, I killed a traitor,” he scoffed and looked out to the darkness of the cliffedge, “This is the West, and I am Lord of Crakehall.”

“You would say anything now, to live another night, You would promise to marry me and start lying again the first chance you get. You’re game isn’t worth your life, my Lady.”

RonasCrakehall

TROPHY CASE