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.
Post by KHAL VORSAKH on Sept 11, 2017 20:46:41 GMT
Reach out your hands Don't turn your back Don't walk away How in the world Can I wish for this? Never to be torn apart Close to you 'Til the last beat Of my heart
Wooden wagon wheels and infantry marched upon the brandished trails that lead through the sea of grain and hills. Wealthy slavers and nobles traveled the quickest route to the northern cities. Morning crested over the horizon, many believing it to be safe when the savages slept. How wrong they were.
Winds would fall silent as the ground began to shake beneath the second sons protecting their masters as the howl of the horde erupted from the fields. Coming upon the road from every which angle with hollers and weapons drawn. Charging into the armored slaves with hooves and curved blades.
Vorsakh came upon the caravan directly from the front, cleaving lesser men with his long blade. Cutting free the horses that pulled the front of the carriages to halt their escape. They would bleed, jumping from his mount onto the dirt. Proving his worth as the khal. The soil would be painted red.
Post by SYRIUS BUROS on Sept 11, 2017 22:14:35 GMT
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Normally one would procure ships when trading goods from say, Pentos to Qarth, but depending on the classification of said goods, --the need to travel by land is a possibility. To traverse along the Dothraki Sea, and even through the Red Waste was a death waiting to happen. If the savages didn't pluck you from the dirt the moment you set foot into the territory, there was also the threat of heatstroke, or wild animals. The mainland was a dangerous place.
Hence why the need to hire a few dozen Second Sons.
Skilled and trained mercenaries, though while they were not as renowned as the Golden Company, they were less pricey. That gave many young trade companies a chance to ensure their goods, be it by land or sea.
The shape of her body rocked in pattern with the large beast underneath her; hips swaying as the horse trotted along the path, kicking up a small amount of dirt and dust as she traveled across the plains of the Dothraki Sea. Gentle winds carried her dark crimson tresses behind her, pulling them away from her face and revealing her intense rufous eyes that were set on the horizon ahead.
It wasn't until that moment that she heard the drum of horse gallops echoing around the caravan. They swept upon them faster than waves crashing against the shore, and with stronger force. She pulled on the reigns of the horse, pulling it to a stop and immediately pulled at the holstered spear on the side of her saddle.
This was Syri's weapon of choice, the length and weight of a spear attuned to her fighting style for close to a decade. These savages, they were not match for her, as she had killed men dothraki squealers in her time with the Second Sons.
"Do not let those cunts make of with our horses or you might as well slit your own throat!"
With a hard kick to the steed under her, it took off and she immediately eyed her first prey. The Second Son's weren't only skilled in combat, but calvary as well, their riding skills could rival even the strongest Bloodriders. Syrius was not exempt from this fact as she pulled back her arm and threw the long spear, it's red tang finding the flesh of her mark, and the horse toppled underneath the dothraki.
She quickly closed the distance between her and the crying horse, plucking her spear from it's corpse to skewer the once rider.
Crimson orbs scanned the desert scene, finding that the screamers outnumbered them 10 to 1.
'Fuck, did they bring the whole Khalasar with them?!' she thought before the glint of a saber caught in her peripherals. With long charcoal hair, and leathers decorated, --this was her new prey, and he would soon feel the sting of her spear.
Another kick to her horse, the distance between them narrowed and she lept from her saddle. Syri's armored feet touched the ground and she was off, a quick lunge forward to catch her opponent off guard.
Post by KHAL VORSAKH on Sept 11, 2017 23:16:26 GMT
Reach out your hands Don't turn your back Don't walk away How in the world Can I wish for this? Never to be torn apart Close to you 'Til the last beat Of my heart
Heavy swings cleaved mortal men, blackened castle armor did nothing to halt the steel of his weapon. Cutting them down with ease as he put his foot upon their chest. Pulling his weapon free from their ribs, blood dulling the sheen of forged steel. A flank of these enslaved soldiers came upon him, they dropped just as quickly as they came.
Senses tuned in to the battle, he could here the shite blades crash upon his kin. Padded feet dancing against their armored foes as his ears tuned into the sound of metal hooves galloping upon the dirt. Turning his head to face the gallant attack of the scarlet bitch.
Crimson iron jabbed at the khal, steel kissing hers with his greeting. An excited sneer lit up his face as he deflected the force of the blow. Dancing around the wild mare that dared to fight him. Daring to challenge the stallion the Khal called upon the dialect of his bloodriders and horde.
" Jinak ato is belongs to anna * "
This battle would not be interrupted by glory seeking horse lords, they would cut down the remainder of the caravan. Gifting their khal with a battle between this warrior. How amusing that these weak nobles called upon their whores to battle with him. Vorsakh adamant orbs tracing the motion of the second son.
Be it by the sound of their screams as their bellies were opened, or the lack of presence, but she noticed how easily the dothraki cut down her men. In a matter of moments, she was the only standing warrior, the fire in her eyes showing her disappointment of her fellow second sons. If they truly stood chance against the hoards of screaming savages, they should have cut off each others head before leaving the bloody city.
Syri's expression grew darker as she stared down the brute of a man, unable to understand the dothrak tongue he issued onto his followers. This man, he radiated an aura of dominance and respect over the savage men that gathered in a circle around them, so she was certain he was a either a Bloodrider or a Khal himself.
'My lucky day... if I am going to hell, I'm taking your ass with me'
Her grip tightened around the length of her spear, which rested in her right hand tentatively as she danced with the man. Syrius was the first to move, the flash of her steel rotating around her body and over her head as she attempted to cleave her spear head into his neck.
He may have been taller, and larger in size, but she was fast and had the distance that wielding a spear brought, but it also brought alot of holes in her defense. No matter, as she had never been beaten in a fight, and still had her head to prove it.
Post by KHAL VORSAKH on Sept 12, 2017 15:35:03 GMT
Reach out your hands Don't turn your back Don't walk away How in the world Can I wish for this? Never to be torn apart Close to you 'Til the last beat Of my heart
Common tongue was spoken by the crimson mare, knowing several of the words she cursed upon him. Iron summoned beyond her ears as Syrius spun her weapon. Strength guiding the motion of her weapon. A mortal blender the khal could not deflect this attack. Dropping his blade into the loose dirt and charging the woman.
Weightless compared to the other armored second sons the young man easily swept beneath the attack made by his opponent. Armed with only his fists would aim to pin the woman upon the ground. Knuckles well versed with the flesh of others. Fingers curling up to embrace for the coming brawl.
Shoulders hung low as they would be the mean to impact the woman. Being able to knock the wind out of her would be a huge advantage if she failed to stop the dance of her weapon before being able to dodge him. Bound to no honor not knightly vows this man fought to kill and survive.
Post by SYRIUS BUROS on Sept 12, 2017 16:03:21 GMT
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Rufous orbs shimmered with the coming light of the morning, speaking words her her intent to kill her opponent. In her mind she knew this fight was going to result in her death, be it by the man she fought now, or the revenge of the riders around him. Fatigue would make sure of that in the end. What she did not know, or expect, was the actions of her target. Steel fell from his fingers, disgracing the sword as it landed into the dirt, her spear still traveling as he moved under it and in towards her.
"Tch."
A click of her tongue before the weight of his body rushed into hers, the momentum of her weapon impossible to stop, and her grasp on it was lost as she was carried to the ground. The impact of his body upon her's was heavy and painful, her light armor pushing into her back, but she fought, attempting to kick him off or better yet curl her fingers around his hair in her struggle to fight him.
She had gotten into fist fights before, many of times she had to push off Second Son that got too touchy for her liking. Even once having to go as far as pulling out an eyeball to stop a man from putting his cock in her. Syrius wouldn't back down just because she was laying in the ground and not standing with her spear.
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
Her voice was coarse as she flung a glob of her spit upon his face. A distraction, and she could get her hand around something vital. An ear, a jugular, anything... so she searched frantically as she clawed at his large frame.
MADE BY NOVA
Last Edit: Sept 12, 2017 16:10:40 GMT by SYRIUS BUROS
Post by KHAL VORSAKH on Sept 12, 2017 16:47:02 GMT
Reach out your hands Don't turn your back Don't walk away How in the world Can I wish for this? Never to be torn apart Close to you 'Til the last beat Of my heart
Heavy mounds of flesh would bounce with the Dothaki Khal taking their fight to the ground. Taking advantage of her beneath him, knees spreading her hips. What a fuck this Valkyrie would be upon defeat. Clawing towards him the bitch spat upon his face, her saliva painting his cheek and lips with the disgrace.
Muscle tensed as his leather bound hands and elbow pushed away the claws of the second son. A gauntlet would pin one of the slender arms of Syrius beneath him. Keeping the strength and claw forced upon the ground. Conquering the mare with relative ease, his unarmored hand slaying her other claw with a hold.
Leaving the bitch defenseless before Vorsakh. Bringing down the force of his skull upon hers. A powerful headbutt for the woman beneath him. Blood beginning to paint his flesh, fuck he lived for this. Payment would be returned for her spit as the khal forced his lips upon the mare. Hoping resistance and fangs would greet him.
" Anha jif fuck yeri jil gwe.*"
Painting her face with his blood as he hovered above Syrius.
" Yeri helpless hatif is athhilezar mezahhe.**"
* I ought to fuck you right here. ** Though your helpless face is fucking goregous.
Post by SYRIUS BUROS on Sept 12, 2017 17:22:36 GMT
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Pain ravaged through her head, the force of his skull upon her forehead opening a stream of ichor from her nose. She couldn't see, only light and darkness existed as she fought for her life, a ringing blocking out the sounds of his screamers urging him on. The woman struggled under the hold of the Dothraki male, his length pushing against her and preventing her movement. Constantly she struggled, trying to lift her hips up to bring her knees between them, but his weight pinned her.
Then the taste of blood filled her mouth, his lips forcefully pressed to hers, and the sensation of drowning. Teeth pressed against flesh as she clamped down on the strange mouth of her opponent. She wouldn't be disgraced, not like this. The Second Son may not have the oaths of a knight, but she still had honor and refused to have that taken. The girl would bite of his tongue if he tried to stick it in her mouth again.
Once more she didn't understand the words from his blood stained lips, but she knew they were insulting by the tone they were given in. He was condescending, his eyes giving that away as he stared at her. It was infuriating, and Syri lifted her legs to wrap around his torso. She locked her ankles and strained her muscles to squeeze tightly, a broken rib perhaps, or at least enough of a discomfort to move so she would have a chance to turn the tables.
Post by KHAL VORSAKH on Sept 12, 2017 18:31:01 GMT
Reach out your hands Don't turn your back Don't walk away How in the world Can I wish for this? Never to be torn apart Close to you 'Til the last beat Of my heart
Struggling beneath him the mare defied the stallion. Putting a fight to the very end, a lesser woman would have given up and accepted her fate as his thrall. Be it far from a loving embrace, the khal bloodied lips enjoying the bravado of the second son. Not foolish enough to loose his tongue from the cornered beast.
Slender legs found themselves wrapped around his torso, finding a weakness and exploiting it as her legs constricted around the Dothraki like a viper. Strangling his chest with the weight of her lower half. Vorsakh could feel his flesh twisting with the bone beneath beginning to fracture. Syrius would leave her mark on him.
Escaping her hold would be foolish by breaking free, instead he brought himself closer to the second son. Toned muscles pressed to her armored breasts as his teeth found her exposed neck. Letting them sink in enough to let the bitch howl. Staining his teeth with her sweet ichor as his hands twisted at the flesh of her arms.
They were a mangled heap of blood and flesh. Furs from the khal dressing the armor worn by the woman. It had been far to long since he encountered a cunt worth his steel. Adrenaline coarsed through him, the pain from the woman barely felt beneath the delirium brought before the khal.
Post by SYRIUS BUROS on Sept 12, 2017 19:37:17 GMT
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It was working, she felt his body wring in her grasp, and a surge of strength over took her. Blood dripped from his skin, decorating her pale yet reddened face, the warmth of his fluid barely felt over the heat of her own body. Muscles quivered, shaking from the exert of force, and her breath ragged in the mere two minutes she had strained under him.
A struggle which halted at the moment his teeth set on her nape. She screamed, a blood curdling sound, remnants echoing in her ears. Stinging, burning pain traveled up from her collar to her head, the pounding of her veins brought a dull pain with each beat of her heart. Her body failed, the seize she had on his torso fell, her legs moving to rest against him, barely moving in her attempt to escape. Strength faltered, and after moment even arms began to slow.
Dark brows furrowed in her hatred for the man, trying to find reserves of willpower to face her opponent. The weight of his body on top of hers was suffocating, and she felt more and more smothered with each passing second.
In her desperation she roared,"HAAAGGGGHH!" full of determination, and she attempted to kick her knee into the side of his body, thrusting her hips up to try and roll with him. She needed to get off her back, and he was weaker while his face was buried in her neck, no longer able to press down on her arms with all his strength.
Post by KHAL VORSAKH on Sept 12, 2017 21:13:21 GMT
Reach out your hands Don't turn your back Don't walk away How in the world Can I wish for this? Never to be torn apart Close to you 'Til the last beat Of my heart
Tainted cheeks scorched with crimson heat, the little witch was enjoying it more then she cared to share. Heavy defiant breathes huffed upon his breast as the man stole her flesh. Succulent ichor drowning his lips and chin as his maw pulled away from the woman. Agony devouring her whole, Vorsakh taming the battle hardened mare beneath him.
Until knees crashed into his sides, his own horse might as well kicked him with the pounding he endured from her child bearing hips. Armored knees would bring the two into a roll. Ending the the weight of his shoulders upon the dirt beneath them. Blood rolling off her pale flesh onto his exposed breast. Marking him with her lifeblood as they fought.
Knowing the abused lower half of him would do no good, just using his knees and legs to keep her own spread to prevent her from fully pinning him. Arms raised beyond his vision to halt the swings and scratches of her claws from his face that were bound to come. Yet between those fingers of his he caught sight of the rubies that decorated her face.
" You're beautiful."
Common tongue spoken to the mare. Surely Syrius could cut his throat, that would shut him up.
Post by SYRIUS BUROS on Sept 12, 2017 23:32:31 GMT
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It was like the world lifted off of her chest, the momentum carrying her over and on top of him. Her vision opened up and as if her strength was renewed, she pulled her arms away from his grasp. Knocking his hands away from her, his face came into view and a smile glinted her face. He was her prey now, and would feel her wrath.
A armed hand pulled back, maliciously springing forward to tear at the vulnerable throat of her kill. Yet her fingers never found the flesh of her target, hovering inches from him face, stilled by the surprising words that passed his lips. It was of the common tongue, a surprising feat from a Dothraki, but beyond that it was the words themselves that caused her to hesitate. Red eyes grew wide, the meaning of those words finally understood by the female as she rested over him intently. Brows furrowed and eyes clenched tightly.
How dare he?
He would show her that disrespect? Even though she saw him as an equal, a man she struggled against instead of tasting the sting of her spear. Teeth bared down on one another and she growled deeply, fingers finding their way around his skull and intertwined with his hair.
"I'LL KILL YOU I SWEAR!"
She yelled before swiftly moving to slam her skull into his, paying him back for the pain wracking impact he gave her once before. Her nose still bled, the thick red fluid dripping past her lips and staining the ground underneath them. Her neck bled, the shape of his fangs forever marking the young girl.
Breath quickened, her body pulling back and her grasp releasing from his hair. There was no sound, no light, her eyes growing dark after her forehead would smash into his. It was only a matter of seconds before the shock rendered her unconscious, though her body still wanted to fight against him.
Reach out your hands Don't turn your back Don't walk away How in the world Can I wish for this? Never to be torn apart Close to you 'Til the last beat Of my heart
The scarlet mare fought to her dying breathe, busting his forehead open with her skull bash. Fingers that had buried themselves in the sea of black tresses weakened as her breathes became fleeting. Before it had even begun it was over. The defeated second son being pushed off the bruised khal.
A shout from the head of the horde filled the air, bolstering his riders and warriors. They would claim the carvan as their prize, killing all of its men and taking what little woman that rode with them. They would pick apart the caravan like a vulture upon a rotting corpse.
A whistle followed his shout as his horse marched back to him, the wealth and weapons belonged to his riders. This prized mare belonged to him, picking up the knocked out bitch and putting her upon the back of his steed. Climbing upon it his horse stood up, the khal throwing his weapon into the air with his hand.
" Najaheya ! *"
Eyes fell upon the sleeping beauty. Fetching her spear a short distance from them he began to lead the dothraki towards their encampment. A hand upon the saddle and guiding teether. Toying with her curls, a sea of bloodied hair in his palm. They would bring in the next khal to this world.
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