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.
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
Fingers would trace scars left upon the dothraki khal, defiant to the very end until the mare rested before him. These mortal men of gold and silver had broken this beautiful beast, he would break the chains that shackled her down into the dirt. Clutching onto tufts of crimson as the second son spoke in his tongue.
Hearing her words the khal shook his head, knowing that he was but flesh and blood. Instead he directed his focus to her breast, resting his head where the mares heart triumphed. Hearing it dance within her chest with an excited song. Warmth spreading from her core to his ear as he listened to the rhythm of Syrius
"Yeri disse need zhor."
Stripping the mare of his touch, returning leather and pelts around his lower half. Returning to the decorated khal, but he would not have the woman dress in the clothes that shackled her to her old world. Revealing fabric dark as night, marred with veils to dress her flesh. Taking a seat upon the bedside he beckoned her to come with his hands. Wanting to dress her in the outfit.
Eyes unwavering they glanced down to see the mass of his head rest against her chest. The heat of his breath tickling her skin as his ear pressed closely to her collarbone. At first she didn't understand what he meant, simply shaking his head in disagreement before moving to rest against her breast.
Heart? ...Love?
Did he intend to show her what it was to be close to someone?
Mind still perplexed she watched him walk away, the sight of his body burning into her memory. There were parts about him, that spoke of higher status, and others that let her glimpse to a more common man. A khal not by birth but by ambition.
Fur and leather wrapped around his waist once more, the impression of him similar to how he stood on the field just earlier. She pushed her hair over her shoulder, and bare feet walked the distance to stand in front of him.
In his hand were sheer textile, the sheen it created catching her eye. Her mind wondered just what caravan he had sacked to get such a fine piece and why he wanted it instead of selling it.
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
Words left her beautiful lips but he knew not how to decipher them. Instead the khal watched the depth of her eyes, watching the abyss swell with curiosity and excitement as her lips curved. Pulling the mare to his dressed hips he turned her around. Hands draping the fabric around her breast, the collar a long crescent across her chest.
Little marbles of gold holding the attire together as it swept across her figure. Dressing her hips with dark strands of cloth, everything shown off beneath the dark veils of silks and satin. Tender fingers danced across her curves until the woman was dressed before him.
Beautiful the mare was, never had his eyes rested upon such an alluring sight. Standing from the bedding the khal walked beyond her, resting a hand upon the entryway of the tent. Revealing the world beyond the ivory hides. Hundreds of tents and buildings resting in the warm background with two massive stallions in the distance.
Never had she felt that a garment was made just for her. It didn't pinch, or feel loose around any of her curves, the mesh silk hugging her flesh perfectly. Eyes and fingers ran down her torso, the glimmer of shadow and gold mirrored in her pupils as she was awestruck by the gift given. Once again she had to think about just who he had procured this particular assortment from, its origin probably being in the Summer Isles.
Syrius looked up to see the horse lord beckon to her, a word passing from his lips that she did not yet understand, but soon would in time. Complying to his wish, she followed, the view of tents and fires coming into her vision, stretching for nearly a mile in each direction. Illuminated by the orange scattered rays of the evening sun, she stared at the magnificence of Vaes Dothrak.
An assortment of scents filled her nostrils, from the open air, to the smell of meat over a fire. These were the smells she was accustomed to as a Second Son, without the constant sound of swords clashing in the distance.
Making sure not to fall behind, the woman walked close to the man, her head held high as she examined the scene around them.
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
Entering the realm of the dothraki the woman would see the wealth of their plunder and his way of being. It must have been suffocating for the mare, smoked meat and spices caressing their senses with sparks of fire and crowds of warriors. From those who wandered the streets a small band approached the khal
Showing their respect through an informal display of strength. These were the bloodriders of the khal that he trusted in greatly. Upon their shoulders pelts and prizes for the caravan that reaped. From the warriors a woman was thrown into the dirt, marks from slave chains hung around her arms and legs.
Turning his head to Syrius the Khal nudged his woman forward. A hand resting upon her bottom, easing up to her lower back as the slave greeted the two. Dothraki spoken from her lips until she faced the second son. Lips pursing before speaking in the common tongue. Slave turned savage, the woman had been boughten for his horde to speak on his partners behalf.
" Hash yeri understand tih lame."
Speaking to the slave as the woman quickly returned his words in common tongue to the crimson mare. Crawling towards the feet of the warrior before kneeling before her new captors. No longer would she wear chains and be shackled to slave lords as long as she used her tongue for Vorsakh. It was a simple choice for the former slave.
Mouth watered, and throat burned with desire for food, yet attention was turned elsewhere as a small group of Dothraki men approached the two of them. Instinctually, the second son tensed up, expecting a hostile reaction from the men but found that they only addressed the horse lord at her side. Each were weighed down with unnecessary commodities, such as golden trinkets, and the benefits of such a raid they performed just the morning of.
Yet none of that caught her eye, instead she saw them for the hardened battle warriors they were. With similar long hair, they were not just any rider, they were painted of colors, and she recognized them to be Bloodriders. Which meant her suspicions about the man at her hip, was correct. He was indeed a Khal.
A smile almost crept along her lips, as in her head she imagined the consequences upon successfully killing him. She would be hunted, sought after by every rider of his horde, --such was their way.
Though she could not cloak her surprisal and curiosity as a woman was plucked from her feet and placed at her knees before them. Syri's brow raised and her gaze met the Khal's before she turned back to the woman. Red scarred flesh at her hands and feet, hair matted to her forehead, and stains of dirt upon her face. She was a sad sight to see, one that Syri was only accustomed to as Second Son.
"He spoke, 'Do you understand my mare?'".
Her voice, thick with an accent similar to Volanti, though her skin shimmered like the eccentric people of Lys. No matter, she was nothing more than once a slave, but given to her with a new purpose. Syri knelt next to the slave, her fingers reaching to brace the chin of the young woman. She was no older than herself, yet aged from the weather and wear of the years.
Part of Syri felt disgusted, the idea of being served by someone, made her stomach knot. Years herself she spent under the foot of a man, fetching his wine, cleaning his armor, and preparing his meals, only for his tutelage for a weapon. The oppourtunity was better than most slaves received, as was this girls fate as a gift from the Khal.
She had to choose her next words carefully. If she denied the generous offer, she expected to have a a blade at her throat within a minute. So against her own morals the woman stood and nodded in response.
"Have her cleaned."
A simple compromise. If this girl was to make efforts to serve her as she so graciously stood next to the Khal, then she would be shown some respect. As much as a slave girl could, -- though Syri was of no better blood.
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 left the lips of the khaleesi, calling for the servant to be cleaned if she was to serve her. Translated to Dothraki the khal chest heaved with laughter. Motioning his hand for his horde to cleanse the dirt from the slave. When she would return to them she was be pure as a virgin.
With her display of power the khal grasped back onto the mare. Cupping her bottom and hip with his right hand. Proudly present the veiled warrior as token of victory. Bringing her further into the society of the Dothraki. Letting her witness his culture and tradition. Pleasure and strength displayed in troves.
With torches flickering in the night, Vorsakh brought the scarlet mare beneath the two massive stallions that displayed before Vaes Dothrak. The sculpted stone a monument to their glory. Moonlight painted the horizon as the man whistled. Summoning forth his steed as he mounted the stallion. Saddled upon its furs he reached down to pick her up.
Placing her before him, resting her little frame between his hips and breast. His bulk would shield her from the night and the cold winds of the plains. A hand resting on the belly that would bring forth the next great khal. Little did she know how much the warrior treasured her warrior spirit.
Crimson eyes watched as the girl was escorted, groomed to do her duty as the Second Sons translator. The front of her thoughts merely focusing on the idea that she was chosen by the Khal, who so quickly introduced her to her purpose. A majority of her wanted to jerk his finger back upon touching her, but the other part welcomed his grasp. The warmth of his palm rested against her hip as they walked, her arm crossed under her chest to grasp the other at her elbow.
With the sun's final descent, rays of light were soon replaced by the luminous torches standing alongside the tents they passed. Her gaze took in the life of the Dothraki, between the young and the old she saw man faces, and all of them looked happy, if not just pleased with their daily lives. They had little, and could not be called wealthy, but these savages were more at peace than most of the free cities were. Ironic.
Walking together, they climbed the length of the hill that led to the stone monuments of their people. Two sculpted horses that stood against the elements, yet could be described as a bit worn. Her hand rested softly on the stone texture, glancing up at its magnificence. She wondered who exactly had made them, and their time of origin had crossed her mind, though she didnt expect to get an answer anytime soon.
The pitch of a whistle filled her ears and she moved to stand by the Khal, watching as his stallion closed in on them. It was the same beautiful creature she saw on the field, not old by many years, but battle worn with even a few scars to tell. Grasping his hand, she placed her foot above his and leapt up to cross over, sitting in front of him, the warmth of his chest at her back.
Normally where his more than familiar gestures would cause him the loss of his hand, she considered the purpose of them, recognizing his actions were of reason. Syri merely just leaned her head back against his collarbone, taking in the sight of the sea he ruled. This day was the end of one that marked a change of her life.
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
Fingers danced upon the belly of the scarlet mare before his comforting hold rested upon her, his other hand upon the mane of the stallion. Commanding it forward with a click of his tongue. Galloping through the reeds, the two of them traveling across the sea of amber.
Moonlight painting their path through the sea. Encountering a wild gathering of horses. Among them was one that caught his attention. Pale as the moon itself, with a smooth and ivory coat, eyes crafted from rubies. It would belong to his khaleesi. Approaching the wild mare.
Conquering the night, they approached it before startling the goddess of the night. Pale hooves dancing forward as his warhose followed. A quick chase between the two as the khal rose up onto his companion before jumping onto the ivory mare. Wrestling it for control, sinking into the reds with it.
Sounds of struggle who follow, what was only minutes took felt like an eternity until it went silent, a single rustling in the grain as it approached. Until the khal walked up to his stallion and his khaleesi with the mare controlled beneath his touch. Motioning Buros down from his horse he wanted her to place her hand upon its head. It would only respect her if she was worthy of riding the mare.
Post by SYRIUS BUROS on Sept 24, 2017 22:47:54 GMT
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Dust kicked up underneath the stallion as it charged through the ocean of pale weaving barley. The two of them rocked together on the galloping beast, tall grass sundered under its feet, and the light of the moon illuminating the gentle hills they crossed. She was silent as they rode, finding it unnecessary to try and speak to the male at her back, as no words needed to be shared.
It was moments later they basked in the presence of nobility. A horde lords and ladies that not only made this realm their home, but guarded it as well, only sharing the vast domain with the Dothraki. Some bedded in the reeds, some grazed silently, and some slowly chased after many beautiful mares.
They descended the slow sloped hill, the horse carrying them within the herd to approach the most elegant charger she had ever seen. Of ashen coat and hair, she shared similar crimson orbs to the Second Son, and with the Khal's kick on his stallion, the chase ensued.
Eyes widened as she looked to horse lord, his maneuver onto the beast causing the two of them to tumble onto the plains, and Syri grabbed hold of his horse, steering it back to watch the Khal struggle against the kicking unbroken steed.
This was the first time she had seen a Dothraki attempt to dispirit a horse, but surely wouldn't be the last. It was a bond that only one of the plains could make, yet he held his hand out to her, urging the woman to descend from his stallion to unite with her own.
Curious, the mercenary fell from his saddle, small footsteps crossing the distance to the beast he held onto. Delicate fingers raised to the nostrils of the mare, deep breaths of large lung inhaling her scent before they rested on the bridge of her long face.
Strands of waxen hair fell past her ears, decorating the beautiful diamond, a brazen personality sparkling in her eyes.
A smile, a genuine one, spread across her lips as she listened to the pounding breath of the horse she caressed.
Post by KHAL VORSAKH on Sept 28, 2017 17:04:07 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
Conquering the white mare and bringing it before his queen. Awe-inspired lips curved upon the sight. Coming down from his battle hardened stallion and coming before her gift. Fingers clutching the fur of the wild mare. Until Syrius placed her hand on the maw of the mare. No longer did she require his touch. Watching the spirit of the warrior meld with that of the ivory steed.
Picking up the scarlet mare up from her hips with both his hands. Throwing her upon the back of the mare. Guiding her hands shortly after to the mane of the mount. Turning back to his own as he jumped upon the back of the stallion. Hooves displayed upon the horse going on its hind legs, before falling back to flattened reeds beneath them. A touch of adoration stroking his stallion.
Extending his hand out to touch the ivory mare the khal slapped the bottom much like he did to his second son. Spurring the mare into action, chasing after the two shortly after. Riding alongside of the two mares with an eager smile. They would follow the flat hills until they could see the rivers that fed into the Vaes Dothrak. Bringing them through the shallows, droplets dancing around them as the hooves chased through water.
Turning his head to enjoy the sight of his beauty bathed in moonlight. Painted with a soft pale glow, her soft cheeks and crimson eyes. Vorsakh would sail across the narrow sea to protect her beauty. Riding along side her and grasping onto her hair. Subtle fingers tracing through the strands as he leaned over and kissed the cheek of the woman. Nearly falling off his horse to do so.
Post by SYRIUS BUROS on Sept 28, 2017 18:40:58 GMT
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With his height, she was placed upon the back of the mare, hooves parted from the ground in the animals restlessness. Syri's eyes traced over the muscles of the charger underneath her, she was strong, and a well bred beauty of the sea; sitting upon such a prize brought honor to the warrior.
An echoing slap, and they were off. The wind carrying her hair back as the three of them chased the coming sun. Firm fingers grasped at ivory hair, trying to guide the mare at the best of her ability, though stubborn traits had led them deeper into the valley at the banks of the river. Water erupted at the gallop of her steed, fallen mist coating the two of them as they paraded across the shallow depths.
Syri's eyes were caught by the shadow of the Khal, his hand reaching forward, and then the presence of his lips upon her cheek. It was such an endearing action, one she was unfamiliar with as a mercenary, and it surprised her. Crimson eyes grew wide, and his fleeting kiss replaced with her fingers, her grasp holding the flesh he cherished the moment prior.
Heart racing, she couldn't tell if it was from the thrill of the chase, or from the softness of his lips against her pink cheek. Blood rushed, stomach knotted, and confusion muddied her mind. Her heart felt hunger for his touch, but her mind screamed at her, instinct pulling the girl away.
A kick into the side of the steed and a jerk of hair turned back, Her destination was unclear, only that she wanted to get away. Teeth bared at the feeling of desire, and gut wrenching nausea filled her senses, offering a distraction from his lingering touch.
"What is this?" she muttered to herself, a hand pressed to her chest, as a tingling sensation crawled from her core.
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