Maya
She gave Ser Aldrik her most furious look. He didn't even flinch. “Don't make this any worse, Ambassador”, he said softly. His direw… moreolf started to growl at Gregar, who almost looked like he wanted to growl back. Irving shivered and Maya was almost sure that he was about to piss himself. Finally, she sighed and put her hand under her cloak, pulling out one of her daggers, before handing it to Ser Aldrik. It was the dagger with the sigil of Runestone on it and Aldrik looked at it with admiration. “This is a fine weapon, Ambassador. I'll make sure that nothing happens to it”, he said and Maya wasn't sure if he was mocking her or if he genuinely tried to be friendly. “This is all?”, he asked. She gave him a nod. She wouldn't speak to this mercenary knight more than she had to. “Very well, Ambassador”, Aldrik said, before presenting his arm, as if he was expecting that she would link arms with him like a proper lady. Maya gave him only a c… [view original content]
Maya
She gave Ser Aldrik her most furious look. He didn't even flinch. “Don't make this any worse, Ambassador”, he said softly. His direw… moreolf started to growl at Gregar, who almost looked like he wanted to growl back. Irving shivered and Maya was almost sure that he was about to piss himself. Finally, she sighed and put her hand under her cloak, pulling out one of her daggers, before handing it to Ser Aldrik. It was the dagger with the sigil of Runestone on it and Aldrik looked at it with admiration. “This is a fine weapon, Ambassador. I'll make sure that nothing happens to it”, he said and Maya wasn't sure if he was mocking her or if he genuinely tried to be friendly. “This is all?”, he asked. She gave him a nod. She wouldn't speak to this mercenary knight more than she had to. “Very well, Ambassador”, Aldrik said, before presenting his arm, as if he was expecting that she would link arms with him like a proper lady. Maya gave him only a c… [view original content]
Maya
She gave Ser Aldrik her most furious look. He didn't even flinch. “Don't make this any worse, Ambassador”, he said softly. His direw… moreolf started to growl at Gregar, who almost looked like he wanted to growl back. Irving shivered and Maya was almost sure that he was about to piss himself. Finally, she sighed and put her hand under her cloak, pulling out one of her daggers, before handing it to Ser Aldrik. It was the dagger with the sigil of Runestone on it and Aldrik looked at it with admiration. “This is a fine weapon, Ambassador. I'll make sure that nothing happens to it”, he said and Maya wasn't sure if he was mocking her or if he genuinely tried to be friendly. “This is all?”, he asked. She gave him a nod. She wouldn't speak to this mercenary knight more than she had to. “Very well, Ambassador”, Aldrik said, before presenting his arm, as if he was expecting that she would link arms with him like a proper lady. Maya gave him only a c… [view original content]
Maya
She gave Ser Aldrik her most furious look. He didn't even flinch. “Don't make this any worse, Ambassador”, he said softly. His direw… moreolf started to growl at Gregar, who almost looked like he wanted to growl back. Irving shivered and Maya was almost sure that he was about to piss himself. Finally, she sighed and put her hand under her cloak, pulling out one of her daggers, before handing it to Ser Aldrik. It was the dagger with the sigil of Runestone on it and Aldrik looked at it with admiration. “This is a fine weapon, Ambassador. I'll make sure that nothing happens to it”, he said and Maya wasn't sure if he was mocking her or if he genuinely tried to be friendly. “This is all?”, he asked. She gave him a nod. She wouldn't speak to this mercenary knight more than she had to. “Very well, Ambassador”, Aldrik said, before presenting his arm, as if he was expecting that she would link arms with him like a proper lady. Maya gave him only a c… [view original content]
Maya
She gave Ser Aldrik her most furious look. He didn't even flinch. “Don't make this any worse, Ambassador”, he said softly. His direw… moreolf started to growl at Gregar, who almost looked like he wanted to growl back. Irving shivered and Maya was almost sure that he was about to piss himself. Finally, she sighed and put her hand under her cloak, pulling out one of her daggers, before handing it to Ser Aldrik. It was the dagger with the sigil of Runestone on it and Aldrik looked at it with admiration. “This is a fine weapon, Ambassador. I'll make sure that nothing happens to it”, he said and Maya wasn't sure if he was mocking her or if he genuinely tried to be friendly. “This is all?”, he asked. She gave him a nod. She wouldn't speak to this mercenary knight more than she had to. “Very well, Ambassador”, Aldrik said, before presenting his arm, as if he was expecting that she would link arms with him like a proper lady. Maya gave him only a c… [view original content]
The Voting is... still open? Liquid is making an announcement? What is this sorcery?
Yes, I'll leave the voting open for another night, since the part hasn't even been up for a whole day and the first choice is almost tied. So far it's 9 for stabbing Lord Brune and 8 for slapping him. Maybe someone still wants to vote, a man can only guess.
Writing for the new chapter proved to be very easy and I made some good progress on two PoV's I was looking forward to write for a few weeks now. The first PoV is even finished already and I expect to finish the writing for the second one either today, or more likely somewhere early tomorrow. After that there's only some quality checking stuff to do, but I'm positive that there isn't much checking required this time. Expect voting to be closed early tomorrow (unless it's tied, I'll think about something then) and the chapter up a few hours later.
Why am I writing this? Well, because I want to announce the Act 2 chapters of course! The names are as followed:
Act 2: Shattered and Broken
Chapter 1: Butterfly
Chapter 2: The Iron Price
Chapter 3: An Act of Mercy
So... that's it. I hope you like these chapters as much as I do. If you want, you may speculate now what's going to happen.
And then there is one unscheduled but very well-deserved shout-out to a great story.
I hope it does not get overshadowed by the unexpected and shocking revelation that the future chapters and acts will have names too.
Today's shout-out goes to a story I want to strongly recommend. I am talking about Humane by @SuperChocoLatte, who has several incredibly amazing stories going on and somehow manages to write regular updates in very high quality for all of them.
Humane is a story of epic scale set in the world of The Walking Dead. It follows several groups that are (so far) unconnected and spans a very large narrative with dozens of characters. However, there seems to be a shortage of readers and voters, which is surprising for a story written by the amazingly talented Super. In my opinion, this shortage thing has to change. If you are interested in The Walking Dead, I recommend you to check it out, as well as Super's other stories, who will receive shout-outs of their own in time. However, for some odd reason Humane seems to be the story with the least participants. With your help, we might be able to change this.
If you are interested in the Walking Dead, you should definitely check the story out by clicking on the following link, which is cleverly disguised as part of the text this time. Yes, after 9 months of being an active user on this forum, I just found out that this is a thing...
Anyway, click on the hidden ninja-link, if you're able to find it, I can only recommend it, because this amazing story deserves readers
The Voting is... still open? Liquid is making an announcement? What is this sorcery?
Yes, I'll leave the voting open for another night, s… moreince the part hasn't even been up for a whole day and the first choice is almost tied. So far it's 9 for stabbing Lord Brune and 8 for slapping him. Maybe someone still wants to vote, a man can only guess.
Writing for the new chapter proved to be very easy and I made some good progress on two PoV's I was looking forward to write for a few weeks now. The first PoV is even finished already and I expect to finish the writing for the second one either today, or more likely somewhere early tomorrow. After that there's only some quality checking stuff to do, but I'm positive that there isn't much checking required this time. Expect voting to be closed early tomorrow (unless it's tied, I'll think about something then) and the chapter up a few hours later.
Why am I writing this? Well, because I want to anno… [view original content]
Maya
She gave Ser Aldrik her most furious look. He didn't even flinch. “Don't make this any worse, Ambassador”, he said softly. His direw… moreolf started to growl at Gregar, who almost looked like he wanted to growl back. Irving shivered and Maya was almost sure that he was about to piss himself. Finally, she sighed and put her hand under her cloak, pulling out one of her daggers, before handing it to Ser Aldrik. It was the dagger with the sigil of Runestone on it and Aldrik looked at it with admiration. “This is a fine weapon, Ambassador. I'll make sure that nothing happens to it”, he said and Maya wasn't sure if he was mocking her or if he genuinely tried to be friendly. “This is all?”, he asked. She gave him a nod. She wouldn't speak to this mercenary knight more than she had to. “Very well, Ambassador”, Aldrik said, before presenting his arm, as if he was expecting that she would link arms with him like a proper lady. Maya gave him only a c… [view original content]
The new part is almost completely written and I think I'll be able to finish it in the next 3-4 hours!
Yesterdays unscheduled shout-out allows me to, guess what, give another shout-out to a great story! This time, I want to give a shout-out to Our Last Hope by @finlander
Our Last Hope is one of the newer stories here and has only recently started with Chapter 1. The story is very promising, however, and there is a good focus on atmosphere and characterization, e.g. the stuff I really like in stories. It is set in a custom zombie apocalypse, 10 years after the initial outbreak. The world is filled with zombies, but also very creepy special zombies, a bit similar to the special infected from Left4Dead. I really like the story and figured it is really deserving of more readers and voters and characters. That means, if you want to join, you should check it out by clicking on this hidden link. Yes, now that I know how this works, I shall never post simple links again, without including a very challenging mini-game in which you have to find the link first!
Killing. There were days in which Kersea asked herself what killing even meant for her anymore. A slit throat, a knive in the guts... beating someone senseless and leaving him to be eaten by wolves. It was nothing personal. It never was. But it should.
She still remembered her first kill, a middle-aged Tyroshi with a blue beard. She still remembered every detail of his face. The fine wrinkles around the eyes, indicating a man who laughed a lot. The sharp nose, the golden teeth replacing several missing. The fear in his eyes as she stabbed him in the neck. She had cried for hours after it was done. Clayton consoled her, it was one of the few times he had ever been friendly to her. He had told her that the man deserved it, that he was a slaver and fond of very young girls. Her first kill... There were days in which Kersea asked herself how far she had come that killing someone meant nothing to her anymore. Well, not nothing. But the regret was gone. It was easier. She never wanted to become like Clayton, who felt nothing when killing someone. She forced herself to remember their faces and names, not only the ones she had killed, but also the ones her group had killed. Clayton simply forgot most of them as soon as his blade left their body, so she figured someone must remember these people. She forced herself to feel regret, unless Alysanne who felt pleasure while killing someone. She forced herself to do this, because she knew, once she stopped that, she would start to become less like herself. And more like Wolfius.
Wolfius... yes, he was a true beast. He lived to stab, to slice, to thrust. He was no part of their group, only assigned from their employer to keep an eye on them. The employer... he was only a name for her, a name almost terribly misleading in it's innocence. But she had never met the man. Of course not, Clayton would never trust her with this. After all these years, after saving his life just as often as he saved hers, he still didn't truly trust her. And she didn't trust him. Clayton Teryl was no man anyone should trust. There were days in which Kersea asked herself if she hated him. She knew it didn't matter. It did not matter what she wanted... a small house, deep in the woods, a warm fire, peace, her little sister singing her a song. When she remembered this, she knew why she did all of this. For her sister. For Briar. For her, she would even give up what little remained of her, the regret, the faces and names.
As she left the small room she had all for herself, she saw Clayton standing on one of the large windows. It would be easy to shove him down. She was good at sneaking up on someone. It wasn't the first time she thought about just killing him. But then she thought of her sister and what their employer would do to her. It would be the last mission, Clayton had promised it. After this, Briar would be free. Kersea was no fool. Clayton kept his promises, but he never promised to leave her alive. Only her sister. But that was good enough for Kersea.
She cleared her throat and Clayton turned around. He wasn't a very handsome man, but had a certain allure, with his muscular build and long brown hair, she had to admit it. There was a deep scar over his left eye, leaving it milky and blind, a permanent memory of the one time he failed to kill someone. Whenever he saw her, he forced himself to smile at her. She could tell it wasn't sincere. Sometimes she even doubted that a man as cold as him was able to smile sincerely. Right now he was wearing the clothes of a Braavosi, to complete his current identity, the identity of a man he had killed over a years ago. Things had been easier then. There had been more of them. Clayton. Alysanne. Kersea. Raenna... but Raenna was dead, or at the very least clever enough to appear dead. Now it was only her, alone with Clayton, Alysanne and Wolfius.
“Good morning, Kersea”, Clayton said in a polite tone. “I hope you slept well” She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Do you? As always, you're awfully civil for the man who holds my sister hostage”, she answered. It was their little game. She would say something rude. Clayton would never answer impolite. Mocking, yes. But he would hide it behind polite words and allusions. He even gave her a short laugh. “Your tongue is as as sharp as always, my dear”, he said. “Let's hope your blade is even sharper. I expect a raven from Oldtown any minute. Butterfly is sending us new instructions and I doubt he will be happy over that castellan's actions last week”, he explained. Kersea understood what he hadn't told her. Butterfly was not happy. And Briar was in his dungeons. The last time she has been allowed to see her, a few months ago, her sister seemed to be happy. Unharmed. She was allowed to keep the little music box Kersea had brought her from Myr and was listening to it. Sweet little Briar...
“How many, Clayton?”, she asked. The man shrugged. “How should I know? As many as Butterfly wants us to kill. The castellan. The servants. The guards. If he wants to, you're going to kill the whole damn village and you know that”, he answered. She gulped. Clayton was a true assassin, someone who killed for a living. It meant nothing to him. If Butterfly ordered him to slaughter a whole village, Clayton would ask how much time he had. She gave him a nod. “I know”, she whispered, before turning her head away from him, looking down the stairs that led to the storehouse's ground-floor. She might as well leave Clayton to his thoughts. After all, he wasn't exactly the company she wanted to enjoy now.
It didn't get much better downstairs. Alysanne was sitting on a small chair, gently sharpening her long knife. Her face was quite pretty, with her black hair, similarly to Kersea's own and her piercing green eyes. The only thing that tarnished her beauty was the scar on her cheek and the carefully hidden scar on her neck. Of course, there were also the burn scars covering her left arm, shoulder and part of her belly. They all had their scars. Clayton wore them on his body, Kersea wore her's in her mind. And Alysanne had a scarred body as well as a scarred mind. Raenna had no scars, as Kersea remembered. Or maybe she had just been able to hide them better than the rest.
Alysanne's smile seemed to be a bit more honest than Clayton's and there were times where Kersea almost thought that Alysanne would enjoy her company. “Good morning, puppy”, she smiled, putting her knife away. “You already talked to Clayton?”
Kersea gave her a weak nod. “New orders coming today”, she mumbled weakly. Alysanne had nothing to do with the abduction of her sister. Still, she was part of the group. Before that fateful night in Blackwater Bay, Raenna had been the only one from her group she would even deem as a friend. Alysanne might be able to appear friendly, perhaps even charming. But behind this, she was just a scarred and ice-cold killer. Just like Kersea herself, in what she deemed her lowest moments. The moments in which she killed. The last one had been five days ago. She didn't knew him. Wolfius called him 'Harking'. Another name on her list. Another one she mustn't forget.
She looked to the large, open door of the warehouse, as she saw someone entering. Alysanne was quick to grab her knife, but quickly calmed down as she recognized Wolfius. He gave them both a short nod. “Morning”, he mumbled, before sitting down on a small chair, as far away from them as possible. Wolfius was no man she wanted to talk with, but luckily he wasn't too eager to socialize either. Alysanne and he got along a bit better and at least on the surface, they were similar. But Kersea knew, Alysanne had something in her that deserved pity, something broken and scarred. Wolfius had no scars inside of him. He was a beast.
With a morbid fascination, Kersea noticed that Wolfius took something out of his overcoat's largest pocket. Something living, a small mouse. Kersea wanted to look away in disgust. She knew what men like Wolfius would do to animals, after all they were capable to do to humans. But to her surprise, Wolfius simply held the tiny animal in his hands, gently stroking it, even smiling a smile that was reasonably gentle. The mouse was sitting in his hands, apparently having nor fearing this beast. Kersea looked over to Alysanne, who quickly met her gaze and smiled. “See? He's not that bad”, Alysanne whispered. Kersea shook her head. Wolfius kindness to this animal surprised her, but that was not enough to give her a better opinion of him. She had seen what he did to his victims and she knew why he killed people. Clayton did it for money. Alysanne too, but she charged even more. Kersea killed because she had no other options, or at the very least she wanted to think so. But Wolfius killed for fun. He wasn't part of Butterflies group, as far as she knew, but he was friends with the man and occasionally helped him out, with quick, merciless brutality and sadistic pleasure. One redeeming trait meant nothing.
“You never told me what happened to the rabbit”, Alysanne said suddenly. Kersea looked up. “What?”, she asked. Alysanne's laugh was bright as a morning breeze. “The rabbit. I shot him in the leg, you bashed his head in, remember?”, she explained. As Kersea still gave her a puzzled look, Alysanne sighed. “You're no fun, you know that? Harking, the guy you killed last week. You never told me how you did it. Was it painful? Was he a screamer, or a whiner, or one of this fucking brave guys? Was he even awake when you did it?”, she asked with disturbing enthusiasm. There it was... Alysanne's sickest trait, the one thing that always reminded Kersea of the thing she would become as soon as she stopped caring. Her morbid fascination with killing, the pleasure she took from the tales. Yes... Harking. Another name on her list, wasn't he? To be honest, Kersea never killed him. At least not directly. Sure, Clayton wanted her to do it and let the wolves finish it. She never did. She left him there, she even killed that wolf who tried to maul him. Because she wasn't like Clayton. She cared. Maybe he was alive, maybe he was dead. Dead was more likely. But Alysanne wouldn't like 'maybe'.
She looked up and saw Wolfius grinning in her direction. He was still petting the mouse, but his smile was directed at her now and nowhere nearly as pleasant a before. “You're talking about Harking?”, he asked. “I'd like to hear that too... Tell me, how did he die?” And in that moment, Kersea realized one thing, one thing that filled her with horror. The look in his eyes... No, it wasn't possible! How could he...
He knew!
“Well Kersea, I'm desperately awaiting your answer. I want to hear every dirty detail”, Alysanne giggled.
[Tell Alysanne the truth][Lie to her][Make up an excuse to evade the conversation]
Richard
He opened his eyes... The bright daylight caused him pain, so he closed them immediately. A sudden pain flashed through his left leg and he let out a weak, husky groan, followed by coughs. His throat... It burned like fire... so dry, when was the last time he drank something?
He opened his eyes again... The bright daylight was gone and he could see where he was. He lay under something... he saw stones... he lay on a ragged, old fur, surrounded by... stuff? There was no other word to describe the junk around him. A second fur, in similar condition lay on the ground, surrounded by empty, or half-empty bottles. Overall, it looked like someone lived here... as Richard Harking noticed the small river running next to him, he knew where he was, even before he saw the tall man, unbowed by his many years, his long grey hair and beard falling down almost to his waist. He was lying under a bridge, not any bridge, but the bridge that spanned a small stream, roughly a mile from his farm. And this man...
“Harking! You're back from the dead!”, he shouted with a very throaty voice, hinting at the many continuous years he was a heavy drinker now. Richard managed to give him a weak nod as the man came closer. “You're going to need something to drink!”, the man said, grabbing one of the bottles. It was filled with alcohol. It has to be filled with alcohol!
“Jarow...”, Richard managed to mumble. The man stopped and looked at him, with slight annoyance. “It's still 'Lord Jarow' for you, peasant”, he explained, but he seemed to be more benign than usual while saying it. Richard was lucky to encounter him while he was drunken. Jarow lived under that bridge for at least fifteen years now, keeping it clean and the surrounding area safe. He has been a soldier, from what Richard knew, until one fateful Ironborn attack years ago. Jarow held this bridge for days, until help from the keep came. He survived, almost unwounded, having killed at least a dozen Ironborn over this time, forcing the rest to search for an alternative path to the city. But after this, he had never been the same. Lord Raylan allowed that Jarow styled himself 'Lord of the Bridges', calling it the least this man would deserve after keeping the city safe. Once a year, Jarow was invited to dine with Lord Raylan in the castle and from what Jenna had told him, he was treated like a real lord, despite the fact that he was nothing more than a broken, shabby drunkard. But he was a drunkard with a very sharp sword, so Richard decided to play his game.
“Lord Jarow...”, he mumbled, which seemed to please the older man, who finally gave him something to drink. Richard didn't even care what it was, he took a deep sip... before turning around, coughing helplessly, spitting whatever he just drank down on the ground, accompanied by Jarow's laughter. “Harking, you wimp! That was a damn fine drink, you should have cherished it”, he shouted. Richard was breathing heavily, his throat hurting like hell, tears flowing down his face. But he was awake. Fully awake. His leg... He looked down to see a surprisingly clean bandage wrapped around it. And then he remembered... the warehouse at the docks... Wolfius... the young woman who knocked him out...
“Have you saved me?”, he asked. Jarow shook his head. “Found you like this. What's the last thing you remembered?”, he wanted to know. Richard closed his eyes... his head hurt like hell and he didn't want to know how he looked like right now. “There was this woman... a bit shorter than me, tanned skin, long dark hair... she wanted to kill me... it was at the harbour...”, he mumbled. Jarow patted him on the back. “Alright, peasant. Take your time. You had a rough week and there have been times in which I wasn't sure if you would survive this. But you got one thing wrong. That girl has never tried to kill you, I've seen her, you know. From what I know, she saved your life”, he explained, which was enough to make Richard jump up. The second he stepped up, he felt a sharp pain in his leg, not enough for him to fall down, but enough to stagger. Jarow grabbed his arm. “Easy, Harking. I removed that bolt and cleaned your wound, but you're still lucky that you can walk at all. That damned thing missed the bone and since you can move it it also missed the nerves. But you should refrain from running or jumping, understood?”, he said. Richard managed a weak nod and Jarow patted him on the back. “Of course, if the Citadel would finally give in to my request for my own Maester, you would have been fit days ago. My techniques aren't that advanced. But you're alive”
Richard managed to give this helplessly crazy old man a thankful smile, even though his head was about to kill him. Finally he remembered something... there was something Wolfius had said to him... Jenna! He was going to target Jenna!
“Jarow, how many days have passed?”, he asked and felt a feeling of dread running down his spine. Jarow evaded his gaze. “Nearly six thousand...”, he mumbled. Richard stumbled back, breathing heavily. “No games, Jarow! How many days have passed since you found me?”, he demanded to know. Jarow met his gaze again. “Oh, you mean that... I was talking about something else... it's been five days, Harking. You've been awake two times, but I doubt you remember that...”, he explained, apparently not noticing that Richard felt close to breaking down. Five days! Wolfius already had five days to kill his daughter! He had to go, he had to warn her, had to defend her, had to kill the beast! “Jarow, I have to go. My daughter is in danger”, Richard said, his voice shivering, the pain in his leg being almost unbearable. Instead of mumbling something, Jarow gave him a surprisingly keen nod. “I see, Harking. I see that look in your eyes. A man has to do what he has to do. When you're done with this, come back here and we shall talk about repaying your debt”, he said, sounding sane and sober like never before. He even gave him a salute, like an old soldier greeting a comrade. Richard wanted to salute back, until he noticed Jarow's stare. He wasn't looking at him, he was looking through him, saluting someone only he was able to see.
Richard managed to walk. Yes, he was limping heavily. But he was able to use the leg and he was alive, thanks to Jarow. And thanks to the woman who beat him senseless, as strange as it sounded... He walked up to the bridge, leaving Jarow alone in his own filth. He would repay the man, he owed him. But first he had to help Jenna! Richard looked to his left, down the path that lead to Raylansfair. He looked to the right, to the path that lead to his farm. And while every ounce in him screamed to run to the castle, he stopped himself. No... he was wounded. He was alone. He was unarmed. At least, he was able to change the last part! He had a sword, a fine weapon. It belonged to his father, the war hero. And while he had never used it, it would give him an advantage over Wolfius. He had no other choice, it had to give him an advantage! With grim determination, Richard Harking started to walk down the path to his farm. He had spent the last five days barely conscious under a bridge. He had been beaten up, he had been shot in the leg, he had been mocked by a monster! God's have mercy, he was not a violent man. But he had no patience left. Wolfius might be a monster, but Richard was a father! Should the beast try to hurt his daughter in any way, he would kill him!
Despite his limping, Richard arrived at his farm a mere hour later. Next to his barn, surrounded by his fields, was a simple two-story building, far too big for him alone, built in happier times, for a family that was no longer here. Built for his wife, Elma. For Arvin, Dylar and Dramin. For Jenna. He had lost Elma. For all he knew he had lost Arvin, Dylar and Dramin. But he would never loose Jenna. Never!
As Richard approached the farm, he noticed something that sent shivers down his spine. The door was open, not only a bit, but actually wide open. Somebody was there, some intruder! Maybe Wolfius... Whoever it was, he was not invited and likely not friendly. But he had to get in there, he already sacrificed a valuable hour to get that sword. He needed it. But he needed to be careful. A direct approach could be risky, but he was never good at sneaking up on something. Maybe it was worth a try... Richard's gaze fell down on the road. Another mile down there was Roman's farm. The man had never been his friend, they even had a long running dispute. But Roman was not a bad man. If Richard would approach him, wounded and looking for help, could he refuse him? Would he refuse him? Could Richard risk this?
[Approach the farm directly][Try to sneak up on the farm][Try to seek help from Roman's farm]
Kersea
Killing. There were days in which Kersea asked herself what killing even meant for her anymore. A slit throat, a knive in the guts… more... beating someone senseless and leaving him to be eaten by wolves. It was nothing personal. It never was. But it should.
She still remembered her first kill, a middle-aged Tyroshi with a blue beard. She still remembered every detail of his face. The fine wrinkles around the eyes, indicating a man who laughed a lot. The sharp nose, the golden teeth replacing several missing. The fear in his eyes as she stabbed him in the neck. She had cried for hours after it was done. Clayton consoled her, it was one of the few times he had ever been friendly to her. He had told her that the man deserved it, that he was a slaver and fond of very young girls. Her first kill... There were days in which Kersea asked herself how far she had come that killing someone meant nothing to her anymore. Well, not nothing. But th… [view original content]
Kersea
Killing. There were days in which Kersea asked herself what killing even meant for her anymore. A slit throat, a knive in the guts… more... beating someone senseless and leaving him to be eaten by wolves. It was nothing personal. It never was. But it should.
She still remembered her first kill, a middle-aged Tyroshi with a blue beard. She still remembered every detail of his face. The fine wrinkles around the eyes, indicating a man who laughed a lot. The sharp nose, the golden teeth replacing several missing. The fear in his eyes as she stabbed him in the neck. She had cried for hours after it was done. Clayton consoled her, it was one of the few times he had ever been friendly to her. He had told her that the man deserved it, that he was a slaver and fond of very young girls. Her first kill... There were days in which Kersea asked herself how far she had come that killing someone meant nothing to her anymore. Well, not nothing. But th… [view original content]
Kersea
Killing. There were days in which Kersea asked herself what killing even meant for her anymore. A slit throat, a knive in the guts… more... beating someone senseless and leaving him to be eaten by wolves. It was nothing personal. It never was. But it should.
She still remembered her first kill, a middle-aged Tyroshi with a blue beard. She still remembered every detail of his face. The fine wrinkles around the eyes, indicating a man who laughed a lot. The sharp nose, the golden teeth replacing several missing. The fear in his eyes as she stabbed him in the neck. She had cried for hours after it was done. Clayton consoled her, it was one of the few times he had ever been friendly to her. He had told her that the man deserved it, that he was a slaver and fond of very young girls. Her first kill... There were days in which Kersea asked herself how far she had come that killing someone meant nothing to her anymore. Well, not nothing. But th… [view original content]
Kersea
Killing. There were days in which Kersea asked herself what killing even meant for her anymore. A slit throat, a knive in the guts… more... beating someone senseless and leaving him to be eaten by wolves. It was nothing personal. It never was. But it should.
She still remembered her first kill, a middle-aged Tyroshi with a blue beard. She still remembered every detail of his face. The fine wrinkles around the eyes, indicating a man who laughed a lot. The sharp nose, the golden teeth replacing several missing. The fear in his eyes as she stabbed him in the neck. She had cried for hours after it was done. Clayton consoled her, it was one of the few times he had ever been friendly to her. He had told her that the man deserved it, that he was a slaver and fond of very young girls. Her first kill... There were days in which Kersea asked herself how far she had come that killing someone meant nothing to her anymore. Well, not nothing. But th… [view original content]
Kersea
Killing. There were days in which Kersea asked herself what killing even meant for her anymore. A slit throat, a knive in the guts… more... beating someone senseless and leaving him to be eaten by wolves. It was nothing personal. It never was. But it should.
She still remembered her first kill, a middle-aged Tyroshi with a blue beard. She still remembered every detail of his face. The fine wrinkles around the eyes, indicating a man who laughed a lot. The sharp nose, the golden teeth replacing several missing. The fear in his eyes as she stabbed him in the neck. She had cried for hours after it was done. Clayton consoled her, it was one of the few times he had ever been friendly to her. He had told her that the man deserved it, that he was a slaver and fond of very young girls. Her first kill... There were days in which Kersea asked herself how far she had come that killing someone meant nothing to her anymore. Well, not nothing. But th… [view original content]
Kersea
Killing. There were days in which Kersea asked herself what killing even meant for her anymore. A slit throat, a knive in the guts… more... beating someone senseless and leaving him to be eaten by wolves. It was nothing personal. It never was. But it should.
She still remembered her first kill, a middle-aged Tyroshi with a blue beard. She still remembered every detail of his face. The fine wrinkles around the eyes, indicating a man who laughed a lot. The sharp nose, the golden teeth replacing several missing. The fear in his eyes as she stabbed him in the neck. She had cried for hours after it was done. Clayton consoled her, it was one of the few times he had ever been friendly to her. He had told her that the man deserved it, that he was a slaver and fond of very young girls. Her first kill... There were days in which Kersea asked herself how far she had come that killing someone meant nothing to her anymore. Well, not nothing. But th… [view original content]
Kersea
Killing. There were days in which Kersea asked herself what killing even meant for her anymore. A slit throat, a knive in the guts… more... beating someone senseless and leaving him to be eaten by wolves. It was nothing personal. It never was. But it should.
She still remembered her first kill, a middle-aged Tyroshi with a blue beard. She still remembered every detail of his face. The fine wrinkles around the eyes, indicating a man who laughed a lot. The sharp nose, the golden teeth replacing several missing. The fear in his eyes as she stabbed him in the neck. She had cried for hours after it was done. Clayton consoled her, it was one of the few times he had ever been friendly to her. He had told her that the man deserved it, that he was a slaver and fond of very young girls. Her first kill... There were days in which Kersea asked herself how far she had come that killing someone meant nothing to her anymore. Well, not nothing. But th… [view original content]
I'm sorry, Liquid, but I'd rather read the whole story than vote now. I'm doing great, currently at page 68 at the dog (yes, one page left to 69, he he he)
I like the new assassin group it also helps tie the stories together a bit considering who sent them, a bit less enthusiastic about richard still being alive, even if this assassin is trying to hold on to something leaving a witness alive on a key mission that could get her sister killed because of it, seems like a bizzare thing to do. I dont mean to sound like I'm complaining its still very well written and done.
Well, in this case the question comes up, what exactly qualifies as a Westerosi name? Are only names that appear in the books truly Westerosi names, or do names that follow the same pattern also count? I'd say it's definitely the latter, or else the continent would be full of Jons, Jaimes and Eurons.
So, the names must follow a certain pattern and it likely follows either a real life pattern, or it follows a fantasy pattern, which means any name would be okay. Let's have a look on naming in Westeros, okay? In this continent, we got modern names, like Robert or Catelyn, next to unusual, but still relatively normal names like Jaime, next to medieval sounding names, like Cersei or Tyrion, next to complete fantasy names like Daenerys or Aerys. Then there is Dorne, with names like 'Trebor Jordayne' (which is simply a tribute to the writer Robert Jordan) or 'Dickon Manwoody'. In a universe in which nobody bats an eye about Dickon Manwoody, a normal name like Leonard Constantine definitely has a place without sounding cringeworthy.
That means, there is no 100% clear pattern after which the characters are named in the books. Of course, some rules apply, such as relatively normal names in Westeros, weird names with too much of the letter 'y' when it comes to Valyrian names, to extremely weird and barely pronounceable names in the Ghiscari culture.
That means, if I don't want to drown in Tyrions and Jons, I have to assume that GRRM follows a very vague pattern when naming his characters. As long as nobody submits Khal Karl, the Dothraki warlord, or Lady Spongebobeeshia Targaryen, I am okay with anything that my readers come up with, especially when they fit the pattern seen in the books (meaning any name is possible).
Leonard for example can perfectly exist next to Robert and Jaime, at least in my opinion. Of course, if I want to nitpick, John Gutten would be 'Jon Gutten' and Abbas is probably not a Ghiscari name. But it doesn't sound too bad and definitely not cringeworthy, so I am more than happy with it, especially seeing the amount of thought that got put into these characters. Names are the least of my problems when checking these characters. I also think that if I demand names that sound faithful to the books, I'd probably alienate half of my readers, as well as loose some very well-done characters.
I'm sorry, Liquid, but I'd rather read the whole story than vote now. I'm doing great, currently at page 68 at the dog (yes, one page left to 69, he he he)
So yeah.
Well, in this case the question comes up, what exactly qualifies as a Westerosi name? Are only names that appear in the books truly Westeros… morei names, or do names that follow the same pattern also count? I'd say it's definitely the latter, or else the continent would be full of Jons, Jaimes and Eurons.
So, the names must follow a certain pattern and it likely follows either a real life pattern, or it follows a fantasy pattern, which means any name would be okay. Let's have a look on naming in Westeros, okay? In this continent, we got modern names, like Robert or Catelyn, next to unusual, but still relatively normal names like Jaime, next to medieval sounding names, like Cersei or Tyrion, next to complete fantasy names like Daenerys or Aerys. Then there is Dorne, with names like 'Trebor Jordayne' (which is simply a tribute to the writer Robert Jordan) or 'Dickon Manwoody'. In a universe in which nobody bats an eye about Dickon Manwoody, a nor… [view original content]
Kersea
Killing. There were days in which Kersea asked herself what killing even meant for her anymore. A slit throat, a knive in the guts… more... beating someone senseless and leaving him to be eaten by wolves. It was nothing personal. It never was. But it should.
She still remembered her first kill, a middle-aged Tyroshi with a blue beard. She still remembered every detail of his face. The fine wrinkles around the eyes, indicating a man who laughed a lot. The sharp nose, the golden teeth replacing several missing. The fear in his eyes as she stabbed him in the neck. She had cried for hours after it was done. Clayton consoled her, it was one of the few times he had ever been friendly to her. He had told her that the man deserved it, that he was a slaver and fond of very young girls. Her first kill... There were days in which Kersea asked herself how far she had come that killing someone meant nothing to her anymore. Well, not nothing. But th… [view original content]
Kersea
Killing. There were days in which Kersea asked herself what killing even meant for her anymore. A slit throat, a knive in the guts… more... beating someone senseless and leaving him to be eaten by wolves. It was nothing personal. It never was. But it should.
She still remembered her first kill, a middle-aged Tyroshi with a blue beard. She still remembered every detail of his face. The fine wrinkles around the eyes, indicating a man who laughed a lot. The sharp nose, the golden teeth replacing several missing. The fear in his eyes as she stabbed him in the neck. She had cried for hours after it was done. Clayton consoled her, it was one of the few times he had ever been friendly to her. He had told her that the man deserved it, that he was a slaver and fond of very young girls. Her first kill... There were days in which Kersea asked herself how far she had come that killing someone meant nothing to her anymore. Well, not nothing. But th… [view original content]
Hello, hoping someone can help me out, I'm having a lot of trouble downloading episode two of GOT...i tried downloading the patch but once it downloaded it said 'game is already updated'...ive tried re-downloading the game from the selection menu (where you have choice of mac or PC, at the start) but have had no luck. Every time I try to d.load it from the server (through game menu) it disconnects then the entire d.load starts again. May smash my PC haha, Please help!!
Hello, hoping someone can help me out, I'm having a lot of trouble downloading episode two of GOT...i tried downloading the patch but once i… moret downloaded it said 'game is already updated'...ive tried re-downloading the game from the selection menu (where you have choice of mac or PC, at the start) but have had no luck. Every time I try to d.load it from the server (through game menu) it disconnects then the entire d.load starts again. May smash my PC haha, Please help!!
Comments
I have played and finished the Game of Thrones, Episode 1 and Episode 2 within 6 hours. When will episode 3 be released? I can't get it off my mind!
[Stab him] because fuck him
[Act neutral]
Great parts again! More important characters in Oldtown, yay!
[Slap him] No need to screw up things completely...
[Act neutral] Ah, should have seen this one, damn.
If you want episode 3, you've come to the wrong place.
[Stab him] Fuck that guy!
[Act neutral]
[Slap him]
[Act neutral]
[Stab him] rapists must die
[Act neutral]
[Slap him] Wolver is bound to intervene
[Yell at her] She will pay
The Voting is... still open? Liquid is making an announcement? What is this sorcery?
Yes, I'll leave the voting open for another night, since the part hasn't even been up for a whole day and the first choice is almost tied. So far it's 9 for stabbing Lord Brune and 8 for slapping him. Maybe someone still wants to vote, a man can only guess.
Writing for the new chapter proved to be very easy and I made some good progress on two PoV's I was looking forward to write for a few weeks now. The first PoV is even finished already and I expect to finish the writing for the second one either today, or more likely somewhere early tomorrow. After that there's only some quality checking stuff to do, but I'm positive that there isn't much checking required this time. Expect voting to be closed early tomorrow (unless it's tied, I'll think about something then) and the chapter up a few hours later.
Why am I writing this? Well, because I want to announce the Act 2 chapters of course! The names are as followed:
Act 2: Shattered and Broken
Chapter 1: Butterfly
Chapter 2: The Iron Price
Chapter 3: An Act of Mercy
So... that's it. I hope you like these chapters as much as I do. If you want, you may speculate now what's going to happen.
And then there is one unscheduled but very well-deserved shout-out to a great story.
I hope it does not get overshadowed by the unexpected and shocking revelation that the future chapters and acts will have names too.
Today's shout-out goes to a story I want to strongly recommend. I am talking about Humane by @SuperChocoLatte, who has several incredibly amazing stories going on and somehow manages to write regular updates in very high quality for all of them.
Humane is a story of epic scale set in the world of The Walking Dead. It follows several groups that are (so far) unconnected and spans a very large narrative with dozens of characters. However, there seems to be a shortage of readers and voters, which is surprising for a story written by the amazingly talented Super. In my opinion, this shortage thing has to change. If you are interested in The Walking Dead, I recommend you to check it out, as well as Super's other stories, who will receive shout-outs of their own in time. However, for some odd reason Humane seems to be the story with the least participants. With your help, we might be able to change this.
If you are interested in the Walking Dead, you should definitely check the story out by clicking on the following link, which is cleverly disguised as part of the text this time. Yes, after 9 months of being an active user on this forum, I just found out that this is a thing...
Anyway, click on the hidden ninja-link, if you're able to find it, I can only recommend it, because this amazing story deserves readers
Aw, now I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Thanks!
[console her] [stab him]
The Voting is closed... at last
Maya will stab Lord Brune
Lucas will act neutral
The new part is almost completely written and I think I'll be able to finish it in the next 3-4 hours!
Yesterdays unscheduled shout-out allows me to, guess what, give another shout-out to a great story! This time, I want to give a shout-out to Our Last Hope by @finlander
Our Last Hope is one of the newer stories here and has only recently started with Chapter 1. The story is very promising, however, and there is a good focus on atmosphere and characterization, e.g. the stuff I really like in stories. It is set in a custom zombie apocalypse, 10 years after the initial outbreak. The world is filled with zombies, but also very creepy special zombies, a bit similar to the special infected from Left4Dead. I really like the story and figured it is really deserving of more readers and voters and characters. That means, if you want to join, you should check it out by clicking on this hidden link. Yes, now that I know how this works, I shall never post simple links again, without including a very challenging mini-game in which you have to find the link first!
So...I started to read the story from the beginning through the doc and got to the part where Marak chokes the Priestess. So much shit happening.
I love this story :0
Kersea
Killing. There were days in which Kersea asked herself what killing even meant for her anymore. A slit throat, a knive in the guts... beating someone senseless and leaving him to be eaten by wolves. It was nothing personal. It never was. But it should.
She still remembered her first kill, a middle-aged Tyroshi with a blue beard. She still remembered every detail of his face. The fine wrinkles around the eyes, indicating a man who laughed a lot. The sharp nose, the golden teeth replacing several missing. The fear in his eyes as she stabbed him in the neck. She had cried for hours after it was done. Clayton consoled her, it was one of the few times he had ever been friendly to her. He had told her that the man deserved it, that he was a slaver and fond of very young girls. Her first kill... There were days in which Kersea asked herself how far she had come that killing someone meant nothing to her anymore. Well, not nothing. But the regret was gone. It was easier. She never wanted to become like Clayton, who felt nothing when killing someone. She forced herself to remember their faces and names, not only the ones she had killed, but also the ones her group had killed. Clayton simply forgot most of them as soon as his blade left their body, so she figured someone must remember these people. She forced herself to feel regret, unless Alysanne who felt pleasure while killing someone. She forced herself to do this, because she knew, once she stopped that, she would start to become less like herself. And more like Wolfius.
Wolfius... yes, he was a true beast. He lived to stab, to slice, to thrust. He was no part of their group, only assigned from their employer to keep an eye on them. The employer... he was only a name for her, a name almost terribly misleading in it's innocence. But she had never met the man. Of course not, Clayton would never trust her with this. After all these years, after saving his life just as often as he saved hers, he still didn't truly trust her. And she didn't trust him. Clayton Teryl was no man anyone should trust. There were days in which Kersea asked herself if she hated him. She knew it didn't matter. It did not matter what she wanted... a small house, deep in the woods, a warm fire, peace, her little sister singing her a song. When she remembered this, she knew why she did all of this. For her sister. For Briar. For her, she would even give up what little remained of her, the regret, the faces and names.
As she left the small room she had all for herself, she saw Clayton standing on one of the large windows. It would be easy to shove him down. She was good at sneaking up on someone. It wasn't the first time she thought about just killing him. But then she thought of her sister and what their employer would do to her. It would be the last mission, Clayton had promised it. After this, Briar would be free. Kersea was no fool. Clayton kept his promises, but he never promised to leave her alive. Only her sister. But that was good enough for Kersea.
She cleared her throat and Clayton turned around. He wasn't a very handsome man, but had a certain allure, with his muscular build and long brown hair, she had to admit it. There was a deep scar over his left eye, leaving it milky and blind, a permanent memory of the one time he failed to kill someone. Whenever he saw her, he forced himself to smile at her. She could tell it wasn't sincere. Sometimes she even doubted that a man as cold as him was able to smile sincerely. Right now he was wearing the clothes of a Braavosi, to complete his current identity, the identity of a man he had killed over a years ago. Things had been easier then. There had been more of them. Clayton. Alysanne. Kersea. Raenna... but Raenna was dead, or at the very least clever enough to appear dead. Now it was only her, alone with Clayton, Alysanne and Wolfius.
“Good morning, Kersea”, Clayton said in a polite tone. “I hope you slept well” She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Do you? As always, you're awfully civil for the man who holds my sister hostage”, she answered. It was their little game. She would say something rude. Clayton would never answer impolite. Mocking, yes. But he would hide it behind polite words and allusions. He even gave her a short laugh. “Your tongue is as as sharp as always, my dear”, he said. “Let's hope your blade is even sharper. I expect a raven from Oldtown any minute. Butterfly is sending us new instructions and I doubt he will be happy over that castellan's actions last week”, he explained. Kersea understood what he hadn't told her. Butterfly was not happy. And Briar was in his dungeons. The last time she has been allowed to see her, a few months ago, her sister seemed to be happy. Unharmed. She was allowed to keep the little music box Kersea had brought her from Myr and was listening to it. Sweet little Briar...
“How many, Clayton?”, she asked. The man shrugged. “How should I know? As many as Butterfly wants us to kill. The castellan. The servants. The guards. If he wants to, you're going to kill the whole damn village and you know that”, he answered. She gulped. Clayton was a true assassin, someone who killed for a living. It meant nothing to him. If Butterfly ordered him to slaughter a whole village, Clayton would ask how much time he had. She gave him a nod. “I know”, she whispered, before turning her head away from him, looking down the stairs that led to the storehouse's ground-floor. She might as well leave Clayton to his thoughts. After all, he wasn't exactly the company she wanted to enjoy now.
It didn't get much better downstairs. Alysanne was sitting on a small chair, gently sharpening her long knife. Her face was quite pretty, with her black hair, similarly to Kersea's own and her piercing green eyes. The only thing that tarnished her beauty was the scar on her cheek and the carefully hidden scar on her neck. Of course, there were also the burn scars covering her left arm, shoulder and part of her belly. They all had their scars. Clayton wore them on his body, Kersea wore her's in her mind. And Alysanne had a scarred body as well as a scarred mind. Raenna had no scars, as Kersea remembered. Or maybe she had just been able to hide them better than the rest.
Alysanne's smile seemed to be a bit more honest than Clayton's and there were times where Kersea almost thought that Alysanne would enjoy her company. “Good morning, puppy”, she smiled, putting her knife away. “You already talked to Clayton?”
Kersea gave her a weak nod. “New orders coming today”, she mumbled weakly. Alysanne had nothing to do with the abduction of her sister. Still, she was part of the group. Before that fateful night in Blackwater Bay, Raenna had been the only one from her group she would even deem as a friend. Alysanne might be able to appear friendly, perhaps even charming. But behind this, she was just a scarred and ice-cold killer. Just like Kersea herself, in what she deemed her lowest moments. The moments in which she killed. The last one had been five days ago. She didn't knew him. Wolfius called him 'Harking'. Another name on her list. Another one she mustn't forget.
She looked to the large, open door of the warehouse, as she saw someone entering. Alysanne was quick to grab her knife, but quickly calmed down as she recognized Wolfius. He gave them both a short nod. “Morning”, he mumbled, before sitting down on a small chair, as far away from them as possible. Wolfius was no man she wanted to talk with, but luckily he wasn't too eager to socialize either. Alysanne and he got along a bit better and at least on the surface, they were similar. But Kersea knew, Alysanne had something in her that deserved pity, something broken and scarred. Wolfius had no scars inside of him. He was a beast.
With a morbid fascination, Kersea noticed that Wolfius took something out of his overcoat's largest pocket. Something living, a small mouse. Kersea wanted to look away in disgust. She knew what men like Wolfius would do to animals, after all they were capable to do to humans. But to her surprise, Wolfius simply held the tiny animal in his hands, gently stroking it, even smiling a smile that was reasonably gentle. The mouse was sitting in his hands, apparently having nor fearing this beast. Kersea looked over to Alysanne, who quickly met her gaze and smiled. “See? He's not that bad”, Alysanne whispered. Kersea shook her head. Wolfius kindness to this animal surprised her, but that was not enough to give her a better opinion of him. She had seen what he did to his victims and she knew why he killed people. Clayton did it for money. Alysanne too, but she charged even more. Kersea killed because she had no other options, or at the very least she wanted to think so. But Wolfius killed for fun. He wasn't part of Butterflies group, as far as she knew, but he was friends with the man and occasionally helped him out, with quick, merciless brutality and sadistic pleasure. One redeeming trait meant nothing.
“You never told me what happened to the rabbit”, Alysanne said suddenly. Kersea looked up. “What?”, she asked. Alysanne's laugh was bright as a morning breeze. “The rabbit. I shot him in the leg, you bashed his head in, remember?”, she explained. As Kersea still gave her a puzzled look, Alysanne sighed. “You're no fun, you know that? Harking, the guy you killed last week. You never told me how you did it. Was it painful? Was he a screamer, or a whiner, or one of this fucking brave guys? Was he even awake when you did it?”, she asked with disturbing enthusiasm. There it was... Alysanne's sickest trait, the one thing that always reminded Kersea of the thing she would become as soon as she stopped caring. Her morbid fascination with killing, the pleasure she took from the tales. Yes... Harking. Another name on her list, wasn't he? To be honest, Kersea never killed him. At least not directly. Sure, Clayton wanted her to do it and let the wolves finish it. She never did. She left him there, she even killed that wolf who tried to maul him. Because she wasn't like Clayton. She cared. Maybe he was alive, maybe he was dead. Dead was more likely. But Alysanne wouldn't like 'maybe'.
She looked up and saw Wolfius grinning in her direction. He was still petting the mouse, but his smile was directed at her now and nowhere nearly as pleasant a before. “You're talking about Harking?”, he asked. “I'd like to hear that too... Tell me, how did he die?” And in that moment, Kersea realized one thing, one thing that filled her with horror. The look in his eyes... No, it wasn't possible! How could he...
He knew!
“Well Kersea, I'm desperately awaiting your answer. I want to hear every dirty detail”, Alysanne giggled.
[Tell Alysanne the truth] [Lie to her] [Make up an excuse to evade the conversation]
Richard
He opened his eyes... The bright daylight caused him pain, so he closed them immediately. A sudden pain flashed through his left leg and he let out a weak, husky groan, followed by coughs. His throat... It burned like fire... so dry, when was the last time he drank something?
He opened his eyes again... The bright daylight was gone and he could see where he was. He lay under something... he saw stones... he lay on a ragged, old fur, surrounded by... stuff? There was no other word to describe the junk around him. A second fur, in similar condition lay on the ground, surrounded by empty, or half-empty bottles. Overall, it looked like someone lived here... as Richard Harking noticed the small river running next to him, he knew where he was, even before he saw the tall man, unbowed by his many years, his long grey hair and beard falling down almost to his waist. He was lying under a bridge, not any bridge, but the bridge that spanned a small stream, roughly a mile from his farm. And this man...
“Harking! You're back from the dead!”, he shouted with a very throaty voice, hinting at the many continuous years he was a heavy drinker now. Richard managed to give him a weak nod as the man came closer. “You're going to need something to drink!”, the man said, grabbing one of the bottles. It was filled with alcohol. It has to be filled with alcohol!
“Jarow...”, Richard managed to mumble. The man stopped and looked at him, with slight annoyance. “It's still 'Lord Jarow' for you, peasant”, he explained, but he seemed to be more benign than usual while saying it. Richard was lucky to encounter him while he was drunken. Jarow lived under that bridge for at least fifteen years now, keeping it clean and the surrounding area safe. He has been a soldier, from what Richard knew, until one fateful Ironborn attack years ago. Jarow held this bridge for days, until help from the keep came. He survived, almost unwounded, having killed at least a dozen Ironborn over this time, forcing the rest to search for an alternative path to the city. But after this, he had never been the same. Lord Raylan allowed that Jarow styled himself 'Lord of the Bridges', calling it the least this man would deserve after keeping the city safe. Once a year, Jarow was invited to dine with Lord Raylan in the castle and from what Jenna had told him, he was treated like a real lord, despite the fact that he was nothing more than a broken, shabby drunkard. But he was a drunkard with a very sharp sword, so Richard decided to play his game.
“Lord Jarow...”, he mumbled, which seemed to please the older man, who finally gave him something to drink. Richard didn't even care what it was, he took a deep sip... before turning around, coughing helplessly, spitting whatever he just drank down on the ground, accompanied by Jarow's laughter. “Harking, you wimp! That was a damn fine drink, you should have cherished it”, he shouted. Richard was breathing heavily, his throat hurting like hell, tears flowing down his face. But he was awake. Fully awake. His leg... He looked down to see a surprisingly clean bandage wrapped around it. And then he remembered... the warehouse at the docks... Wolfius... the young woman who knocked him out...
“Have you saved me?”, he asked. Jarow shook his head. “Found you like this. What's the last thing you remembered?”, he wanted to know. Richard closed his eyes... his head hurt like hell and he didn't want to know how he looked like right now. “There was this woman... a bit shorter than me, tanned skin, long dark hair... she wanted to kill me... it was at the harbour...”, he mumbled. Jarow patted him on the back. “Alright, peasant. Take your time. You had a rough week and there have been times in which I wasn't sure if you would survive this. But you got one thing wrong. That girl has never tried to kill you, I've seen her, you know. From what I know, she saved your life”, he explained, which was enough to make Richard jump up. The second he stepped up, he felt a sharp pain in his leg, not enough for him to fall down, but enough to stagger. Jarow grabbed his arm. “Easy, Harking. I removed that bolt and cleaned your wound, but you're still lucky that you can walk at all. That damned thing missed the bone and since you can move it it also missed the nerves. But you should refrain from running or jumping, understood?”, he said. Richard managed a weak nod and Jarow patted him on the back. “Of course, if the Citadel would finally give in to my request for my own Maester, you would have been fit days ago. My techniques aren't that advanced. But you're alive”
Richard managed to give this helplessly crazy old man a thankful smile, even though his head was about to kill him. Finally he remembered something... there was something Wolfius had said to him... Jenna! He was going to target Jenna!
“Jarow, how many days have passed?”, he asked and felt a feeling of dread running down his spine. Jarow evaded his gaze. “Nearly six thousand...”, he mumbled. Richard stumbled back, breathing heavily. “No games, Jarow! How many days have passed since you found me?”, he demanded to know. Jarow met his gaze again. “Oh, you mean that... I was talking about something else... it's been five days, Harking. You've been awake two times, but I doubt you remember that...”, he explained, apparently not noticing that Richard felt close to breaking down. Five days! Wolfius already had five days to kill his daughter! He had to go, he had to warn her, had to defend her, had to kill the beast! “Jarow, I have to go. My daughter is in danger”, Richard said, his voice shivering, the pain in his leg being almost unbearable. Instead of mumbling something, Jarow gave him a surprisingly keen nod. “I see, Harking. I see that look in your eyes. A man has to do what he has to do. When you're done with this, come back here and we shall talk about repaying your debt”, he said, sounding sane and sober like never before. He even gave him a salute, like an old soldier greeting a comrade. Richard wanted to salute back, until he noticed Jarow's stare. He wasn't looking at him, he was looking through him, saluting someone only he was able to see.
Richard managed to walk. Yes, he was limping heavily. But he was able to use the leg and he was alive, thanks to Jarow. And thanks to the woman who beat him senseless, as strange as it sounded... He walked up to the bridge, leaving Jarow alone in his own filth. He would repay the man, he owed him. But first he had to help Jenna! Richard looked to his left, down the path that lead to Raylansfair. He looked to the right, to the path that lead to his farm. And while every ounce in him screamed to run to the castle, he stopped himself. No... he was wounded. He was alone. He was unarmed. At least, he was able to change the last part! He had a sword, a fine weapon. It belonged to his father, the war hero. And while he had never used it, it would give him an advantage over Wolfius. He had no other choice, it had to give him an advantage! With grim determination, Richard Harking started to walk down the path to his farm. He had spent the last five days barely conscious under a bridge. He had been beaten up, he had been shot in the leg, he had been mocked by a monster! God's have mercy, he was not a violent man. But he had no patience left. Wolfius might be a monster, but Richard was a father! Should the beast try to hurt his daughter in any way, he would kill him!
Despite his limping, Richard arrived at his farm a mere hour later. Next to his barn, surrounded by his fields, was a simple two-story building, far too big for him alone, built in happier times, for a family that was no longer here. Built for his wife, Elma. For Arvin, Dylar and Dramin. For Jenna. He had lost Elma. For all he knew he had lost Arvin, Dylar and Dramin. But he would never loose Jenna. Never!
As Richard approached the farm, he noticed something that sent shivers down his spine. The door was open, not only a bit, but actually wide open. Somebody was there, some intruder! Maybe Wolfius... Whoever it was, he was not invited and likely not friendly. But he had to get in there, he already sacrificed a valuable hour to get that sword. He needed it. But he needed to be careful. A direct approach could be risky, but he was never good at sneaking up on something. Maybe it was worth a try... Richard's gaze fell down on the road. Another mile down there was Roman's farm. The man had never been his friend, they even had a long running dispute. But Roman was not a bad man. If Richard would approach him, wounded and looking for help, could he refuse him? Would he refuse him? Could Richard risk this?
[Approach the farm directly] [Try to sneak up on the farm] [Try to seek help from Roman's farm]
[Tell Alysanne the truth] If Wolfius knows we are doomed either way
[Try to seek help from Roman's farm] fighting with someone while you are heavily wounded? Nah
Awesome Chapter!!!
Kersea seems such a sad and tragic character
Anyway great parts, it's nice how Oldtown and Raylansfair storylines tie up to each other more and more
[Tell Alysanne the truth]
[Try to sneak up to the farm]
(Make up a excuse to avoid answering the question)(try to seek help from Romans farm)
[Make up an excuse to evade the conversation]
[Try to sneak up to the farm]
Great chapter!
[Tell Alysanne the truth]
[Try to sneak up to the farm]
Great chapter!
[Tell Alysanne the truth]
[Try to seek help from Roman's farm]
I'm sorry, but some names aren't really Westerosi e.g.Leonard Constantine and all the other suggested characters names make me cringe
[Tell Alysanne the truth]
[Try to seek help from Roman's farm]
Richard confirmed.
[Lie to her]
[Try to seek help from Roman's farm]
And what exactly do you consider a westerosi name ?
I'm sorry, Liquid, but I'd rather read the whole story than vote now. I'm doing great, currently at page 68 at the dog (yes, one page left to 69, he he he)
So yeah.
names G.R.R.M used in his books
[Tell Alysanne the truth]
[Try to seek help from Roman's farm]
A very vague answer, bro xD
Does it really matter?
There's only so many names one can use, and these are character submitted.
Did he name every single person who is westerosi in his books?
(Evade the question)
(Sneak up)
I like the new assassin group it also helps tie the stories together a bit considering who sent them, a bit less enthusiastic about richard still being alive, even if this assassin is trying to hold on to something leaving a witness alive on a key mission that could get her sister killed because of it, seems like a bizzare thing to do. I dont mean to sound like I'm complaining its still very well written and done.
Well, in this case the question comes up, what exactly qualifies as a Westerosi name? Are only names that appear in the books truly Westerosi names, or do names that follow the same pattern also count? I'd say it's definitely the latter, or else the continent would be full of Jons, Jaimes and Eurons.
So, the names must follow a certain pattern and it likely follows either a real life pattern, or it follows a fantasy pattern, which means any name would be okay. Let's have a look on naming in Westeros, okay? In this continent, we got modern names, like Robert or Catelyn, next to unusual, but still relatively normal names like Jaime, next to medieval sounding names, like Cersei or Tyrion, next to complete fantasy names like Daenerys or Aerys. Then there is Dorne, with names like 'Trebor Jordayne' (which is simply a tribute to the writer Robert Jordan) or 'Dickon Manwoody'. In a universe in which nobody bats an eye about Dickon Manwoody, a normal name like Leonard Constantine definitely has a place without sounding cringeworthy.
That means, there is no 100% clear pattern after which the characters are named in the books. Of course, some rules apply, such as relatively normal names in Westeros, weird names with too much of the letter 'y' when it comes to Valyrian names, to extremely weird and barely pronounceable names in the Ghiscari culture.
That means, if I don't want to drown in Tyrions and Jons, I have to assume that GRRM follows a very vague pattern when naming his characters. As long as nobody submits Khal Karl, the Dothraki warlord, or Lady Spongebobeeshia Targaryen, I am okay with anything that my readers come up with, especially when they fit the pattern seen in the books (meaning any name is possible).
Leonard for example can perfectly exist next to Robert and Jaime, at least in my opinion. Of course, if I want to nitpick, John Gutten would be 'Jon Gutten' and Abbas is probably not a Ghiscari name. But it doesn't sound too bad and definitely not cringeworthy, so I am more than happy with it, especially seeing the amount of thought that got put into these characters. Names are the least of my problems when checking these characters. I also think that if I demand names that sound faithful to the books, I'd probably alienate half of my readers, as well as loose some very well-done characters.
But that's just my two cents...
No problem at all. It's great you're actually taking the time to read the whole story, makes me very happy
kinda, well the important ones
well, to be honest, I did take Vogarro Qhædar's name from the ck2 agot mod (when will you plan Garro to appear? I can't wait until he rubs elbows!)
[tell alysanne the truth]
[approach the farm directly]
[Tell Alysanne the truth]
[Try to seek help from Roman's farm] even though I think Roman may be dead.
[Lie to her]
[Try to sneak up on the farm]
Hello, hoping someone can help me out, I'm having a lot of trouble downloading episode two of GOT...i tried downloading the patch but once it downloaded it said 'game is already updated'...ive tried re-downloading the game from the selection menu (where you have choice of mac or PC, at the start) but have had no luck. Every time I try to d.load it from the server (through game menu) it disconnects then the entire d.load starts again. May smash my PC haha, Please help!!
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http://www.telltalegames.com/support/