The year is 286 AC. King Jaehaerys II has just passed, leaving the throne without a rightful ruler. While his three children fight for the crown, Winter creeps closer, and unimaginable darkness looms.
Not all alliances will be so typical this time. In fact, many people have a crucial effect on the way this story is told. As for the ending, we only hope there are enough people left alive to tell it after its passed.
Events
Join us for our first event, the wake of recently deceased King Jaehaerys II.
Updates
AUG. 19: So we are now officially open to the public. We have a mini-event flashback thread going on, and our main event just began. Feel free to make a second canon if you can keep both of them active enough.
Don't hesitate in pestering staff with questions; it's what we're here for! Let's raise a glass and make a cheer toward a successful launch of Winds of Winter.
The pungent aroma of piss, musk, and cum wafted into his nostrils and caused Marko to wrinkle his nose in disgust. It didn’t matter where one went, the more the people the worse the smell. And he had to admit that he was ill-prepared to deal with the current flooding of his senses. Camps of sullen men, and decrepit inns paled in comparison to the hellish mixture one encountered with massive settlements such as Riverrun. Even then, traversing the streets garbed in Essosi robes he could feel the filth beneath his soles and tainting the very essence of his skin. It was maddening and one of the many reasons that he rarely traversed such hubs, particularly when there weren’t massive bodies of water to mask the stench. His most prominent reason however, was that with the proper gaze from the wrong eyes and scuffles would ensue, ones that Marko could do without.
But the promise this settlement offered was too alluring. Nobles upon nobles upon nobles, all of whom were ripe for the picking. None would be taken hostage; as originally suggested by one brother, for to escape the confines of the town with a noble in tow was a foolhardy idea indeed. But they would be robbed, used, and discarded as the outlaws saw fit. For there was no honor among thieves, and the highborn rats were the best thieves that Westeros had to offer. Which was precisely why the Brotherhood Without Banners had dispersed themselves among the commonfolk, the only member to stand-out being Marko himself as he refuted giving up his attire for the simple notion of eye appeasement.
There was a piece of him, a small minuscule thing that hungered for chaos. That dared him to unsheathe his fury and tear into the nearest guard so that the entire street was besieged with panic. And yet he quieted that monster. It was the way the Stormed God would have wanted him to conduct himself but R’hllor would have seen it poorly.
Last Edit: Jun 26, 2015 6:10:38 GMT by MARKO HARLAW
Post by Selvyra Lannister on Jun 26, 2015 11:14:02 GMT
Well, that was a curious statement so Selly’s gaze turned just as curious to meet it. “What was your job?” She considered that perhaps the dancers were bound by principle to take on every challenge, but she couldn’t be sure. There was no way for her to guess that he had been First Sword. The follow-up notion of loss of dignity she enjoyed. A wave of calm washed over her as she stared ahead, her pacing very lady-like. “Better to fail in the eyes of strangers than fall prey to their whims,” she reasoned, always having been a woman that had no care for outside judgement. “That all was good to know, thank you.”
What was more interesting, however, was the confessed skill of her current company. She had not been aware that he was actually that good. It caused her to panic to be beside him and yet not, for she didn’t register any ill intent in the man from Braavos. In fact, the whole world disappeared around them now, allowing her to dream that they might file out of the tourney field and across Riverrun, heading anywhere away from the webbing of Westeros politics. “I’m not sure who this is,” she told him, not one to hide her ignorance. Selly knew most about the people who lorded charm and knowledge over others, the field of battle prowess remaining largely unknown to her. “If you discover who it is, will you challenge him to a friendly duel?” There was little reason to ask, for it was stark as day in Alex’s eyes how much he wanted to. What Selly was more interested in was the nuance of the spar – could it even be not a battle to the death? Any wounds could prove fatal sometimes, especially if they got infected in ways no maester could heal. Selly knew, for she dealt with healing.
The topic changed and her eyes smiled. “I supposed as much,” she responded, “there should have been a reason for you to be here, after all. And you presented yourself as a tutor.” Which could mean he had a pupil or more. Her question had been open enough for him to take the opportunity if he could or wanted, and if not, actually recommend another. It seemed highly unlikely for the Lord Stark to have hired such a skilled man without truly knowing what for, however, but she said nothing of it. Peculiar things did happen from time to time. She resolved to listen to his actually suggesting of someone else, and mirrored the raising of an eyebrow once she received it. Her smile never faltered. “The First Sword?” She inquired. “Wouldn’t such a well-seated person be bored to train a beginner?” Then again, wouldn’t anyone? “I’m sure we could make it worth his while, should he consider.” A tingling of anticipation briefly perused her being. Her mother would clearly approve of the motion, so the only unknown would be her father.
But Alex was very helpful indeed. Selvyra hid a couple of chuckles behind a hand, then devoted her attention to him. “You would teach me? Here?” She didn’t have to look around to know Rastan was watching, also any number of other lords and nobles. If her brother noticed he might go pale on his horse, but they were far from the jousting lines now. Selly had another problem too – that of figuring out what exactly he was talking about. She had never worn a special something that was designed to be given at tournaments, not even years ago when she had last been to one. If there was any such favor to be granted, she did not know of it, but that did not mean she would not give him something. Seeing as he was rubbing at his wrist, she trailed a hand down to hers, and chose with her fingers one of the many bracelets she wore, one of semi-precious red stones strung to slim but though leather strands. She wouldn’t explain that this was just a personal creation either, to add to the confusion caused by Cassandra. “You can have this,” was all she said as she reached across to take his wrist and tie it around.
Once she was done, she would await eagerly. “How do we begin?”
Post by Alexander Hawke on Jun 26, 2015 23:10:09 GMT
How to say you were the First Sword without saying you were the first sword? Alex shrugged slightly at that. "I would suppose enforcement." Not a lie, he figured. The First Sword's job was to protect the Sealord and enforce their will. Normally, the Sealord sat and grew fat, while the First Sword did all the work. Damien had been a departure from that. Damien was doing his own job. Alex was really there just to act more as a symbol, when he thought about it. The Leviathan would make, and had indeed made his own name, yes. But having the name of the Twin Storms behind you was all but certain to guarantee a seamless transition into power. Damien's reputation now however, he built on his own.
But, as she offered the bracelet, Alex looked quizzically at it for a moment before letting her tie the bracelet around to his wrist. He looked at it for a moment, like it was some foreign thing. Cassandra's had been a cloth, but maybe it varied from person to person? "Forgive me, I am... very new to these customs. Thank you, I think I can fit in now." He nodded with gratitude. "But of course, I have no problem teaching you while we are here, but do know if I do encounter this Sword of Morning I may break off for a bit to have a friendly match, yes."
Taking another good look at Selvyra, his eyes traveled up and down her, noting her body and her clothing. However, there was no lustful glint in his eye, and it seemed he wasn't trying to take in the eycandy before him. "Your frame is quite ideal, yes. Perhaps learning in a dress may help; if you can perform the dance in a dress, then surely when your legs are free you can do it as well." He spoke.
However, he stopped for a moment when he noticed the figure within the area as well. Taking note mostly of his clothing. I am not the only Essosi here. He realized. He would have to keep track of that, mentally placing the figure's presence within his mind. However, he turned back to Selvyra and caught up with her. "Is there a private place you would prefer to go for your lessons?" He couldn't help but wonder why they were here, but perhaps Selvyra had a place where they could go to get away from it.
The sands of time slowed their drizzle. And yet Marko could note nothing but the frantic coursing of blood through his veins as his perception of everything heightened. Bloodlust submitted to curiosity as his cool gaze fell upon a familiar physique – one that he hadn’t seen in ages, and truthfully had never expected to set eyes upon again. It would seem that R’hllor saw fit to place a cruel joke inside of this wretched settlement, one that would prevent the former First Sword from freely going about his ways of debauchery.
Preparation caused the experienced fighter to discreetly slip out of his footing as his body swam through the crowd. Nothing about his garb would hinder him when combatting the typical Westerosi knight, elegant robes that produced an insignificant number in weight and didn’t hinder his movements. The footwear however was attuned to comfort rather than utility and such would still suffice against the norm of opponents he could expect, but would prove deadly should things turn sour in the unimpeded moments.
Braavos was a peculiar city with peculiar customs, from her Iron Bank to her traditional exchanges and greeting. One thing of the city made sense to all that knew of her, and that was her veracity and her warriors; above all else her affinity for the production of water dancers and her First Swords. And here in this filthy pond of a village were two; sharks traversing the waters filled with trout and eels, with salmon and lobsters, with a number of elegant and exotic species that would ultimately be little more than fodder in a skirmish. It was both enticing and infuriating. Many moons had passed since the blades of master and pupil had clashed, and Marko longed to know just how substantially The Guppy had managed to grow in his absence. But he equally lusted after slicing a dagger through the neck and questioning young Alexander on how he could leave a pest such Damien Naharris in control of their beloved city.
Absentmindedly Marko would tail after his pupil, splashes of shit and mud coating his lower regions as he traversed barefoot. And he was content with simply following for time, knowing that exploding into action would lead into a climatic confrontation but one that was destined to be snuffed out and inferred with.
Post by Selvyra Lannister on Jul 2, 2015 9:35:26 GMT
“You’re under no obligation to teach or escort me, you may do as you please,” she told him, smiling pleasantly as she withdrew her hand once the bracelet was secured around his wrist. “Besides, it should be entertaining to watch you.” Rare were the times when swordsmen of tremendous skill met and fought under friendly terms. Selvyra would not get in the way of such a display. Like most noble women, she had grown fond of swordsmanship shows for being as exposed as she was to them from an early age. You couldn’t exactly raise your daughters on jousting and sparring and expect them to steer clear of a taste for it.
She was particularly amused by his inspecting gaze. The scrutiny was so practical she could not think to shy away. Not that Selly was the shy sort to begin with. “Yes, this dress is quite comfortable.” Long flowing cotton and silk, loose enough on the hips, with a wide base. She could maneuver in it with no problem. “It should be just as well as what you’re wearing.” As for her frame, she didn’t know what to say to that, not having known there was an ideal model for a water dancer, but glad all the same that she was it.
The pause was abrupt, and Selly’s gaze casually followed Alex’s to the dark-haired, bare-footed man not very far from where they were. It flitted back to more idle fancies very soon after, and she did not stop in her walk. It was more of a force of habit – pretending not to have noticed people of interests, though who this man was she could not say. Upon being asked a question, she glanced about the stands. “It’s a pretty crowded day, I’m not sure if we could find privacy.” She considered it a moment longer. “Perhaps you could just tell me about the code of conduct. Or explain to me what I should focus on while wielding a sword.”
“It’s best if I avoided actually holding a sword.” She smiled to him. “The gossip would be incredible.” Her eyelids lowered and she spoke in a more hushed voice. "Also, I think you know we're being followed. Do you know that person?"
Post by Alexander Hawke on Jul 7, 2015 3:39:01 GMT
He nodded silently when she remarked they were being followed. But the question of whether he knew the one following them was something else entirely. His lips thinned slightly. Finally he whispered and gave the best answer he could. "I sense something, a presence I've not felt since..." He trailed off. It couldn't be him could it? It was a presence he knew all too well, something he had learned to pick up even when silence reigned. But was it a false alarm? He hadn't seen the man since he had left a decade ago. The next day after Marko had left was the day that Alex took up the position of First Sword.
Alex wondered now, what would happen if they were to clash? Marko had taught him everything about Braavosi Water Dancing. It was because of Marko that he was able to use the all too familiar form. However, Alex's dual wielding was all his own work. Something that he had practiced, honed, and mastered over ten years of work. Something to build upon the work of a Water Dancer and set him apart, the style that earned him the moniker of Twin Storms. If it is him, I doubt it's small talk that he desires. Perhaps Naharis had managed to find the man and asked him to track Alex down?
"Walk in front of me. Take my hand but grip it loosely, and walk in front of me as if leading me in a hurry." He spoke quietly to her, not turning his head. If something should come up, he didn't enjoy the possibility of Selvyra getting endangered. Alex did not involve those who were bystanders. "I... may be overreacting, but it is my nature, I apologize." For all he knew, this was nothing and once they did this they would lose the presence in the chaos of the crowd. If he was right, at least Selvyra would be out of the immediate dangerzone should something explode.
Steel would rain down from the heavens, forcing the duo to cease in their stride. Marko hadn’t seen any meaningful glances spared in his direction, but enough time had elapsed to where young Alexander should have noted his presence, if not, well the young pupil would be in for a rude awakening.
Years of swordplay had made the male rather proficient with various bladed weaponry and as such it was trivial thing for Marko to arc two single daggers high into the air so that they would descend a few lengths in front of his intended targets. It was gaudy enough to obtain the attention of the two but yet discreet enough that unless actively observing him, guards wouldn’t note him and immediately hound the male attempting to arrest him, not that such would truthfully concern the leader of the Brotherhood Without Banners.
WINDS OF WINTER is the original work of AARON, AERIE and WINTER. Any and all content is copyrighted to WINDS OF WINTER.
Copying, altering, or stealing any of the site's content is prohibited.
All of WINDS OF WINTER characters are the original work of their owners may not be replicated or stolen.
All images and graphics belong to their rightful owners and WINDS OF WINTER does not claim to own any of them.
The skin was created by TIMELAPSE OF WICKED WONDERLAND.
How to say you were the First Sword without saying you were the first sword? Alex shrugged slightly at that. "I would suppose enforcement." Not a lie, he figured. The First Sword's job was to protect the Sealord and enforce their will. Normally, the Sealord sat and grew fat, while the First Sword did all the work. Damien had been a departure from that. Damien was doing his own job. Alex was really there just to act more as a symbol, when he thought about it. The Leviathan would make, and had indeed made his own name, yes. But having the name of the Twin Storms behind you was all but certain to guarantee a seamless transition into power. Damien's reputation now however, he built on his own.