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.
If travel is searching And home what's been found I'm not stopping. I'm going hunting.
It was nearing sundown. The sky was already turning hues of orange and purple, gracing the city of Braavos with a beautiful glow. Many of the Braavosi people still graced the streets, many filled taverns and brothels. Many people still flocked the wharves and docks; going to and from Braavos, trading food among other things. Some trades were done in secret in neighboring alleyways that were shrouded in shadow, while others were done in the open.
Veiled in a black cloak to protect her from the winds of the sea and the mist of the ocean, she'd walk the street from near the docks. She went unnoticed. Just another warm body walking through the darkening streets. She was no one, but everyone at the same time. This evening, no one. Tomorrow perhaps a woman selling fish. However, she wasn't one of the Faceless yet. She had come here seeking the House of Black and White. Through whispers and voices of dead men, she'd heard about the Facelessmen.
And, to be a true killer. To be no one with a name. To be nobody. She'd have to become one of them.
It hadn't been long since she'd been in Braavos; however, it had taken her years to arrive in Braavos. On the way here she'd been a medicine women, a slave, a prostitute among other disguises. She'd already been on the road to being nobody, aside from their Facelessness. This was what she saught in Braavos, however would it be that easily attainable?
Asrar would proceed towards a stand that had leftover bread from the day, paying coin and continuing down the street nibbling on the piece of bread as she went unnoticed. Perhaps she would stay in an inn...
Post by Arellio Tyquis on Jul 10, 2015 16:15:33 GMT
The Secret City. Many came to Braavos as one thing and, after enveloping themselves in its mysteries, reemerged as something different entirely. The woman Asrar would become one of many who had taken such a path in their lives. Arellio already counted himself among them. Starting from the filthier streets and wharves of Braavos as naught but an urchin, he clawed at life to survive. Through desperation, struggle, and thievery, Arellio he kept starvation away for a time. His prospects improved as he began stealing information and digging his hands in the dirt once he grew older, and soon enough his fortunes skyrocketed under the supervision of one of great families invested in the Iron Bank. Now, he himself led the immensely powerful institution, and the journey to reach his seat was nothing short of miraculous – if not crafty, dark, and filled with lies.
But that evening, Arellio returned to his roots. He deceptively covered himself in flecks of dust and spots of dirt, trying to blend in with the more downtrodden of the city’s folk. An old and dark turquoise robe with dark violet bands covered most of his body, and the sea winds danced with its sleeves. A worn, leather strap hung at his waist, concealing a surprisingly ornate dagger. His walked about with worn leather sandals, just enough to stop rocks from jabbing at the underside of his feet. Thus he wandered the streets, looking both his old self with traits of his new, and he relied on his well-developed ears to pick up the newest rumors that flooded Braavos from the docks.
He had an eye for the unfamiliar as well, and his squinted on a lady veiled in black. Her cloak, or perhaps her intent to hide most of herself, made her stand out more than blend in. Arellio could not place his finger on the source of his curiosity, but he could not deny that it struck him nonetheless. He waited a brief moment, folding his arms and crossing them in their sleeves, before carefully tailing her. Ducking into a nearby side alley, he quickened his pace. He knew many of these streets well enough to traverse them in his sleep, and when he had navigated carefully through their winding bends he would come out in front of Asrar – and ‘accidentally’ bumped into her.
“Oh, dearest me! I am so sorry!” he apologized profusely, scratching the back of his dirtied white hair. “Did I hurt you, fairest lady?”
If travel is searching And home what's been found I'm not stopping. I'm going hunting.
Asrar continued to lurk the streets, prowling among the people like the cat she was often named after. Her eyes darted back and forth but remained still at the same time. She was always wary, on guard. Walking between people gracefully she would make her way around town. She had the ability to know when someone was following her; lets just say it was more of a keen sense than anything. Someone was tailing her but it peeked her interest.
Proceeding forward, it would seem as if she hadn't noticed the person though she did not know who out of the people it was. Well, yet.
She wondered if whomever it was would show himself or herself to her. No one knew her here so why would someone have an interest in following her? Were they just as curious as she was about them?
Crossing the threshold between two alleyways someone would 'accidentally'' bump into her. With pure habit and skill, she would step aside the man just barely bumping into her. The man would apologize to her, asking if he hurt her...calling her a fairest lady. Looking over at him, she'd reply in the sweetest, fairest voice. "No, good Sir..you have but only startled this Lady" she'd offer the man a genuine smile.
Looking up at him, she would examine the man. He seemed to be just one of the many people here in Braavos. No one special. Or was he? Asrar would bow her head slightly, "Do you enjoy startling ladies, Good Sir?" she'd offer a slight giggle.
Post by Arellio Tyquis on Jul 23, 2015 23:54:23 GMT
Arellio enjoyed what he saw. Rather than fall prey to his deliberately clumsy collision, Asrar sidestepped his approach, though just barely. Still, her movements indicated some sort of innate sensitivity and keen recognition of her surroundings. Had she been aware of his pursuit? No, Arellio lacked enough information to form such an assumption. But he could not deny his swelling curiosity. He would play with this woman and have his fill of her. And how? Why, Arellio always relished opportunities to play the clumsy and kindhearted fool. Social masochism coupled with a much more sinister will, and putting on his facades gave him far too much pleasure to act any differently.
“Oh my, not at all!” he lied, his smile widening enough to dwarf Asrar’s own. Her giggle only further enticed him. “Why, if it were up to me, ladies would always giggle at my presence, not jump at it. But, oh, what a whimsical wish that is!” Arellio laughed heartily, a well-rehearsed chuckle he picked up more from listening to sounds around him than from his own appreciation of humor. In fact, most of the traits he exhibited in public were borrowed from others. A whole decade and more spent scurrying along alleys and shadows gave him much to study. Even with his esteemed status, he remained a man thoroughly layered and false. After all, he had dressed up and dirtied himself for the sole purpose of deception. And just how false was she, this Asrar, enshrouded in black?
“Forgive me, dearest lady, for I can’t help but admit that I have not yet seen you walk these streets before. And the way you dress is so ravishing and elegant, but unlike anything these poor eyes have seen. From where do you truly come, graceful lady? You could not possibly belong to these crowded and dirty streets.”
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