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 DARESSO SORELLION on Oct 1, 2017 15:57:52 GMT
A Fated Guest - 282 AC
“Ahahah!” The Red Priest had joined in with Aery’s as the two burst out into raucous fit of laughter. It didn’t last long though as the youth eventually diverted back to a more serious subject. No more than a few syllables in, they’d find themselves abruptly interrupted. The discussion was short lived as fate veered away from the topic once more.
With the assassin tailing close upon their heels, a cry for help sounded from the temple’s esteemed guest. Having already spun about from the increased, aggressive steps of the Fiery Hand, a look of insult came across Daresso’s eyes. If looks could kill, he’d have already done in this foolish assailant. Without any hesitation, the High Priest’s body sprang into action, his prior years of military training finally appearing.
A hand would slam directly at the assassin’s face. His voice filled with contempt, words spewed forth with unbridled rage. “YOU DARE DEFILE THIS SACRED GROUND? HERETIC! BEGONE!” With this final declaration, the hand pointed at their enemy’s face would let loose a scorching plume of fire. A howl of agony sounded for a brief moment as the figure released their grip upon the spear while dashing off into the shadows.
“You alright there kiddo?” Only after, did Daresso finally stand, brushing his hands off once or twice over. He’d turn his attention towards the Targaryen, eyeing the wound briefly before grabbing the other end of the spear. With a solemn nod, he’d pause as if waiting for confirmation, only to yank firmly upon the shaft without warning. “This is gonna hurt.” He’d add in after the fact. His words weren't referring to the spear however. Reaching for the Targaryen's shoulder with the same hand, he'd press against the gushing wound firmly. Yet another burst of flame would emit, this time a much more intensive flame that'd flicker ever so briefly. Moments later, the flow would cease, as if cauterized. "Looks like you were right. Even within these walls, they dare lurk like roaches."
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