Ria
The Pale Lotus shed one final glance to the pained mother before disappearing into the night, the soft rhythm of footsteps darting do… morewn the neighbouring alleyway. Ria quickened her pace, swiftly turning a corner, and another, and another, until she was so distant in unknown territory that she had to slow herself. Her eyes did her little in the darkness, but she did not rely on sight during these little errands. Her ears listened for anything out of the slight that could be what she was in pursuit for. The darkness kept its silence, and Ria remained as still as stone as she studied her surroundings.
The alley she found herself in was barely two men thick, the kind where only cats and thieves lurked during the night, yet Ria was sure she wasn’t looking for a pickpocket or rodent. Minutes passed, and after a moment of reluctant decision, she bit her tongue and turned around. A rush of guilt fell over her as she thought of the poor girl… [view original content]
Light flooded into her eyes as she forced them open, her gaze weak and exhausted, her bones stiff and cramped. Her legs were tucked up to her chest, her back forced against the small wooden planks that confined her to this cell, and in her hands she clutched the golden locket that once belonged to her sister. She brought it to the light that shone through the creaks, staring at the engravings. She ran her thumb smoothly over the surface, a gutting feeling pressing at her chest as memories of her sister flooded back into her thoughts, memories of her family.
Outside of the crate she could hear the murmuring voices of men, oblivious to their existence within these cells, carrying out their daily activities as crewmen on a merchant vessel. It was her brother’s grand idea to have them both stowed away in small shipping crates amongst a trading vessel exiting Qarth, and they had lived in these confined ‘quarters’ for nearly two weeks, living off whatever the generous quartermaster would spare them when he checked over the merchandise. Still, Kali couldn’t blame her brother for the state of life they were in, that blame fell onto the greedy houses of Meereen that destroyed her house and massacred her family. All but two, she thought grimly, clutching her dark amber toned hand around the golden locket.
Kali struggled to move herself so that she could see through the creaks of her container, one being partly wider with a decayed hole just large enough to fit small fruits through; which greeted her with a white blinding light that slowly adjusted as she glanced around her slim surroundings. She saw only the wooden balustrades of the ship, being conveniently placed at the edge of the crates, she was fortunate to see the blue sky. Her brother remained in a crate elsewhere, or so she was told, but it was certain he was out of eardrop; though she never brought her voice much higher than a soft murmur.
She stared aimlessly at the blue sky, counting the rare clouds that floated past as the ship gently sailed along the waters. A frown touched her face as she found herself thinking of the ocean, how she had not seen the sea for so long, she had not seen much beauty since before the collapse of her family. Now as she stared, the natural light dimmed as a shadow loomed over her, darkening the crate. She pulled away from the slit, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness and awaiting for whatever meal would be gifted to her. As her eyes finally adjusted, she was met with the intimidating stench of something else right before her nose.
“What the fuck is this?” Kali winced, examining the long shaft that intruded her confined space. She quickly realised what she was met with; a pink head, an erected shaft and the wiry black hairs that plugged the hole from where it entered, and a raspy voice spoke over her. “You want to eat, bitch? You’ll do what I fucking say.” Kali gulped as she noticed that the man’s voice was not that of the quartermaster. “Suck my cock, whore, or I’ll bring my buddies with me when I visit you next,” he growled, pushing his manhood further into the hole, poking against her cheek.
“No,” she spat in retaliation, pushing the vile thing off her face. She suddenly felt a thwack on both sides of the crate, and the man’s lips drew closer to the crate. “Suck my dick or I’ll cut your brother’s throat and feed you his balls,” he warned, making Kali widen her eyes in shock initially, but her gaze turned cold shortly after, and reluctantly she grasped his manhood, securing a tight hold which pumped out some pre-ejaculation onto her cheek.
“Oh yes, bitch, that’s the way,” he mumbled in satisfaction, to which Kali smirked, the head of his penis pushing past her lips. “Fuck yeah,” he blurted, pushing his cock into her mouth. Kali tightened her hold, her eyes lifted to where she pictured the man’s face to be, and she clamped down. Instantly she felt a new ambition arise from her action: pull instead of push, groan in agony instead of pleasure, but that didn’t stop her. As he slapped at the side of the box for mercy, she bit harder, and the taste of warm blood flooded her mouth. Finally, the man’s groans erupted into screams, and in an attempt to free himself he brought the crate tumbling over.
The lid of her wooden home jarred open, which Kali freed with the kick of her foot, to which she then liberated herself from the small cell, her legs giving way beneath her as she tried to stand. Her arm covered her eyes as the light blinded her once again, but in her peripherals she spotted the tanned muscular sailor struggling in a pool of his own blood, screaming out of fear and agony. Weakly, Kali stumbled towards him and launched her foot into his jaw, and again at his chest, and again and again. She spat on him and stomped on his manhood, spraying blood onto his white shirt and making him wince in pain.
“Enough!” a raspy voiced grumbled, forcing Kali to turn to his bitter old gaze. His eyes were as black as the night, and his wiry hair slicked back, his oiled moustache predominant on his upper lip. Kreqnir Ahzi was the older brother of the eunuch of the Great Empire of the Dawn, the one her brother had talked about prior to their arrival in Qarth. She had never known eunuchs for much more than slave guards, but if Kreqnir’s brother was half the man he was, Kali was sure she’d enjoy his company.
A look of concern touched his black eyes, one which made Kali crumble under his gaze, forcing her to look away. Yet as her eyes desperately searched for another to lay her cursed gaze on, she found something much better, someone much better. “Driz,” Kali uttered in almost disbelief, tears welling up in her eyes. Without another word the two found each other’s embracement, something that was well overdue, and a part of her tore up when Driznor pulled away from her. “Hello, Sister,” he mumbled gently, giving her a small smile. Kali reciprocated it, but it was only now that she tasted the blood in her mouth, staining her teeth and seeping down her throat. She turned her gaze back to the offender, a Qartheen of a large stature, yet a man so small within his pool of blood and tears.
“Did he hurt you?” Kreqnir queried, his voice low and formidable, yet oddly the most accepted of every man here, other than her brother of course. Kali shook her head, staring at the squirming man with scorning eyes. “Not as much as I hurt him,” she muttered, her fists clenched with ire, but the soft touch of her brother slowly relaxed her. Kreqnir nodded, slowly walking to the pleading crewman with a pitiless gaze on his stern eyes. “Good.” Without a moment of hesitation, Kreqnir lifted the man up with ease and shoved him overboard; a thundering splash followed the crewman’s disappearance.
Kreqnir turned his gaze back to Kali, his black eyes calm and emotionless. “Welcome to the Great Dawn Empire,” he muttered grimly, passing her without another word and clearing the crowd that gathered around them. Kali and Driz stumbled their way across to the balustrade, their gaze staring out beyond the wide river that flowed into a large inland sea, and at its edge was the capital of the Great Empire: Tiqui.
-
The merchant vessel had docked at the great harbour of Tiqui, one that stretched for miles along the coast, bordering the western side of the great and powerful city. Kali and Driz had been some of the first to disembark as soon as they had tied onto the wharf, eager to drop their sea legs for the love of land again, yet somewhat hesitant to roam too far from the life they had endured to live over the past two weeks. They found themselves browsing the merchant stalls along the edge of the port, awaiting for Kreqnir’s cargo, as well as their own, to be unloaded.
“We’re here,” Driznor sighed quietly in relief, observing the merchandise presented on the wooden table of one of the stalls. Kali nodded, but there was still a heavy feeling of discomfort here, as if they were being watched. They had been on the run for a year now, and one might almost expect that prying eyes would be accustomed for fugitives of the Empire, but this time it was different. In the Empire of Ghis, they ran the constant risk of discovery, being constant fugitives hiding in towns and cities for as long as they could. Yet they were Ghiscari, and as they changed, they began to camouflage into their natural surroundings. Now, they were foreign, surrounded in a land that made them so apparent that Kali felt in more danger than they were before, even if the threat of the Ghiscari Empire was leagues away.
“We are,” she muttered in response, making Driz raise an eyebrow to her apparent distaste of their arrival. “What’s the matter?” he asked, a touch of concern mixed in with his worried tone. Kali shook her head, shrugging her shoulders as she moved on to another stall. “Where will we go now, Driz? We’re in a city that we only know the name of, and nothing else. We don’t know what it’s like here, and we sure as hell can’t blend in like locals. The last I heard, the YiTish hate the Ghiscari. I didn’t bring us this far just to meet the sword of a YiTish racist,” Kali exclaimed, crossing her arms and staring at the contents on the merchant’s desk hopelessly.
Driznor sighed, placing a hand on Kaliza’s shoulder and looking at her with his optimistic amber eyes. “We haven’t come this far just to die, little sister, and despite being this far east, we do still have allies within reach. Kreqnir has promised to find his brother, who he assures will take us in to his home, and then I guess we’ll play things on from there,” Driz stated with a hopeful tone, but Kali just rolled her eyes, shrugging his hand off her shoulder. “The moment we settle down for too long is the moment death catches up with us, and we do not know what this eunuch brother of Krenqir’s is like,” Kali argued, making her brother frown.
“Kali, look at me,” he begged her, and reluctantly, she turned her gaze to meet her brother’s light amber eyes. There was without a doubt that Driznor was one of the handsomest Ghiscari men she knew, especially since being on the run, he had shed weight with their constant movement. His dark amber skin was toned and defined under his wound YiTish gown, something Kali thought he looked hideous in, but she stayed her tongue. However it was his auburn hair was that truly lacked the glory it once maintained, once flowing long and shaped into many elaborate and complicated styles, now it was short and scruffy, a result of their requirement to blend in.
“A border of mountains and seas separates us from Ghis now, we cannot keep fearing what may still come for us from the west. Right now we need to focus on securing ourselves here, and only then may we be able to one day turn our eyes back to Meereen and the Empire for our revenge,” he assured her, to which she sighed. “The Revenge of Rakhan,” she remarked coldly, a deep lust for the justice of her house was something that indeed fuelled her, but not to the extent of her brother. Kali was just more concerned about her and her brother staying alive.
Driznor gave her a nod, a small smile touching his lips as he caressed her arm. “Now, I’m going to go and relieve myself at the brothel, don’t brood too long, Sister,” he teased, tucking at his gown and taking his leave, making Kali roll her eyes. She turned her gaze around her, searching for something she could do to pass the time. Her eyes landed on something which she presumed to be a saloon, which if it was the case, she could certainly do with a drink to take her mind off things. However she worried about distancing too far from the ship, and from her brother as well, perhaps it was best for her if she remained close to them.
And the voting is closed! Ria will agree to help Jalhar.
The next part is ready, and it introduces a new foreign PoV from the Empire of Ghis. Hope you enjoy.
Kaliza
Light flooded into her eyes as she forced them open, her gaze weak and exhausted, her bones stiff and cramped. Her legs were tucke… mored up to her chest, her back forced against the small wooden planks that confined her to this cell, and in her hands she clutched the golden locket that once belonged to her sister. She brought it to the light that shone through the creaks, staring at the engravings. She ran her thumb smoothly over the surface, a gutting feeling pressing at her chest as memories of her sister flooded back into her thoughts, memories of her family.
Outside of the crate she could hear the murmuring voices of men, oblivious to their existence within these cells, carrying out their daily activities as crewmen on a merchant vessel. It was her brother’s grand idea to have them both stowed away in small shipping crates amongst a trading vessel exiting Qarth, and they had lived in these confined ‘quarters’ for nearly two weeks,… [view original content]
Kaliza
Light flooded into her eyes as she forced them open, her gaze weak and exhausted, her bones stiff and cramped. Her legs were tucke… mored up to her chest, her back forced against the small wooden planks that confined her to this cell, and in her hands she clutched the golden locket that once belonged to her sister. She brought it to the light that shone through the creaks, staring at the engravings. She ran her thumb smoothly over the surface, a gutting feeling pressing at her chest as memories of her sister flooded back into her thoughts, memories of her family.
Outside of the crate she could hear the murmuring voices of men, oblivious to their existence within these cells, carrying out their daily activities as crewmen on a merchant vessel. It was her brother’s grand idea to have them both stowed away in small shipping crates amongst a trading vessel exiting Qarth, and they had lived in these confined ‘quarters’ for nearly two weeks,… [view original content]
Great chapter man,I must say that the start was glorious.The safest thing for Kaliza would be stay closer to her brother but if they were fugitives before in Ghis,I doubt their luck will be much better on Tiqui.They should have gone to Lhazar a peaceful place with lots of sheep.
It appears all spins around our dear eunuch which,we need a Littlefinger to keep the combat
Kaliza
Light flooded into her eyes as she forced them open, her gaze weak and exhausted, her bones stiff and cramped. Her legs were tucke… mored up to her chest, her back forced against the small wooden planks that confined her to this cell, and in her hands she clutched the golden locket that once belonged to her sister. She brought it to the light that shone through the creaks, staring at the engravings. She ran her thumb smoothly over the surface, a gutting feeling pressing at her chest as memories of her sister flooded back into her thoughts, memories of her family.
Outside of the crate she could hear the murmuring voices of men, oblivious to their existence within these cells, carrying out their daily activities as crewmen on a merchant vessel. It was her brother’s grand idea to have them both stowed away in small shipping crates amongst a trading vessel exiting Qarth, and they had lived in these confined ‘quarters’ for nearly two weeks,… [view original content]
Hm, onwards to characters I never thought I'd see again Though they got a flashy new name and quite a couple other upgrades, I recognize and appreciate them and I am very happy with this development. And well, Kali, she has been great here. Biting some bastards dick off, that was glorious. Way to start a PoV, I have truly tremendous excitement for the storyline to come, as little as I know about it
[Remain at the stalls]
So, I would like to play it safe right at the beginning, by not having her stray too much for the time being. There will be time to make new friends later on, quite soon hopefully, but for the time being, a stranger in an even stranger land, she should try not to be separated from the few people she can still trust.
Kaliza
Light flooded into her eyes as she forced them open, her gaze weak and exhausted, her bones stiff and cramped. Her legs were tucke… mored up to her chest, her back forced against the small wooden planks that confined her to this cell, and in her hands she clutched the golden locket that once belonged to her sister. She brought it to the light that shone through the creaks, staring at the engravings. She ran her thumb smoothly over the surface, a gutting feeling pressing at her chest as memories of her sister flooded back into her thoughts, memories of her family.
Outside of the crate she could hear the murmuring voices of men, oblivious to their existence within these cells, carrying out their daily activities as crewmen on a merchant vessel. It was her brother’s grand idea to have them both stowed away in small shipping crates amongst a trading vessel exiting Qarth, and they had lived in these confined ‘quarters’ for nearly two weeks,… [view original content]
Alright, the voting is closed! Kaliza will remain at the stalls. Gosh, I have to say this was one of the most interesting character introductions I've ever done. Sometimes I wonder whether I'm writing a GoT fan fiction or gory smut, I guess it's the same thing?
Anyway, the next part is ready, and it goes to a new PoV (the next few parts will be introducing new PoV's, just a heads up), which will bring a second perspective to Asshai. This character's name is Elda, an Andal sellsword currently travelling with the Stormcrows. Hope you guys enjoy.
Kaliza
Light flooded into her eyes as she forced them open, her gaze weak and exhausted, her bones stiff and cramped. Her legs were tucke… mored up to her chest, her back forced against the small wooden planks that confined her to this cell, and in her hands she clutched the golden locket that once belonged to her sister. She brought it to the light that shone through the creaks, staring at the engravings. She ran her thumb smoothly over the surface, a gutting feeling pressing at her chest as memories of her sister flooded back into her thoughts, memories of her family.
Outside of the crate she could hear the murmuring voices of men, oblivious to their existence within these cells, carrying out their daily activities as crewmen on a merchant vessel. It was her brother’s grand idea to have them both stowed away in small shipping crates amongst a trading vessel exiting Qarth, and they had lived in these confined ‘quarters’ for nearly two weeks,… [view original content]
The looming darkness of the city of Asshai cast its shadows over the Jade Sea as the Stormcrows made their approach to the legendary city of the East. Elda stood beside the helm, her left hand resting on the hilt of her broadsword while the other was positioned on the railing that guarded those from tripping to the lower deck. Beside her, on the helm, stood the captain of the vessel, a ‘sellsail’ as she proclaimed herself: Vellera Essaar. They had met the Valyrian girl during their time in Astapor, and after a settled price, she had agreed to take the company of the Stormcrows to the Shadowlands.
“I fucking hate this place,” she muttered aloud, making Elda raise an eyebrow as she heard it. She side-glanced the girl, who stood a little taller than herself. She had a slim build, but there was certainly some definition to the muscles she openly displayed on her arms, where the rest of her body was dressed in blue leather and chainmail. Vellera was certainly beautiful however, certainly compared to the rest of the Valyrian sheep-fuckers that Elda had met. Her smooth skin was lightly tanned, and her oval shaped face favoured the most beautiful almond-shaped eyes that Elda had seen; amber in colour. She had a small button nose and vibrant full lips, and her honey blonde hair was tied back into a loose bun.
“You’re not planning to back out on us, sheep-girl?” Elda taunted, a smirk touching her lips as she received a spiteful scowl from the Valyrian sellsail. “Not bloody likely, your boss promised me my weight in gold, but that won’t count for much if my flesh is crawling with Greyscale,” she exclaimed with some concern in her tone, something which Elda could only nod in response to. “I wonder how the Brindled folk fair to Greyscale,” Vellera added, playfully punching Elda in the arm, which made her roll her eyes.
“How many times must I tell you? I am not a Sothoryi, I’m an Andal,” Elda corrected her bitterly, making Vellera smirk. “You are as much as Sothoryi as I am a sheep-girl,” Vellera challenged with a fun tone, making Elda smile weakly. “Ah, but you are a sheep-girl,” she jested, making the Valyrian sigh in defeat. “I’ve met many Andal’s in my time as a sellsail, and never have they looked as you have: dark skin, dark eyes, tightly braided black hair. If that’s not Sothoryi blood than what is it?” she asked, her curiosity seemed genuine, so Elda gave her a genuine answer.
“My parents were pirates from the Basilisk Isles before they settled in Andalos as smallfolk,” Elda revealed to her bluntly, making Vellera raise an eyebrow. “Seems like quite the life to drop in return for peasantry,” Vellera marvelled, but Elda just shrugged her shoulders, staring at the dark city of Asshai ahead. “They wanted a normal life for their daughter,” she mumbled hopelessly, and in part distracted. “And yet the daughter became like the parents, a fighter,” Vellera chuckled, turning her gaze ahead. Elda dryly nodded, “she did,” she muttered nonchalantly.
“So you’ve been working with him ever since?” Vellera asked in conclusion, nodding to the leader of the Stormcrows: Erin Erenford, who stood at the bow of the vessel with his second-in-command: Corysu, a hooded man. And for good reason, she thought relieved, but she shook her head in answer to Vellera’s question. “No, I only came into the Stormcrow’s quite recently,” she stated, making Vellera raise an eyebrow. “Oh? You seem to have done well for yourself,” the Valyrian complimented, to which Elda shrugged, her thoughts drifting back to her time before joining the Stormcrows. “I guess,” Elda muttered in reply, making Vellera roll her eyes.
Before Vellera could continue, they were greeted by the charming sellsword who had recently joined amongst their ranks, only a few months after Elda. Jaeron Galiar was his name, and he was certainly easy on the eyes, and just a couple of years younger than Elda, being in his late twenties. He had a square face and a sharp jawline, his chin was quite prominent and his cheekbones were high, the right side of his face was scarred from brow to jaw. His eyes were a light green and his hair a chocolate brown that fell past his shoulders, he ran a hand through his groomed beard, a smirk on his lips.
“Finally here, ladies?” he asked, but the question was rhetorical and the answer blatantly obvious given their surroundings. “So it would appear,” Elda muttered dryly in return, making the Andal grin to her sour mood. “Bleeding out the cunt again, Elda?” he taunted her, awaiting for her typical reaction; she wondered how many times he could expect her to drop his arse to the floor. Regardless, despite the heavy temptation, Elda decided against it, simply rolling her eyes and passing him with a solid shoulder bump. “Clamp your tongue, Galiar, or I’ll cut it out,” she warned him with a warm tone, something he took lightly to.
Elda descended the steps down to the lower deck, her eyes found it a struggle to identify all the figures roaming around with this added darkness of the Shadow Mountains. She knew that both Erin Erenford and Corysu stood at the bow of the ship, their statue stance and quiet whispers were more daunting than the setting they found themselves in. The edge of the world, Elda thought, though she wasn’t sure whether the thought enthralled her or worried her. She had heard much of Asshai and the Shadowlands, and frankly, none of it intrigued her as a place to one day visit. Yet here I am, she thought to herself out of concern, and quickly glanced around for a familiar set of faces to take her mind off her worries.
Past the shadow faced crew she spotted three members of the Stormcrows by the port side of the ship, a destination she made a beeline to. The three faces turned to greet her with a different set of expressions: a solemn emotionless glare, a gleeful ecstatic grin and a sickened and unenthusiastic glance before returning to the side of the ship. Elda gave the two remaining eyes a nod, who reciprocated her gesture. “Little mouse,” the first of the faces greeted, a tall broad man from Sothoryos, a true Brindled Man who went by the name of Nkos. Elda enjoyed his stern company for the most part, she could always find time to think when she was around him, but he lacked enough of the Common Tongue to communicate proficiently.
The second face, gleeful and somewhat scary was that of Gilma the Bearded, an Ibbish woman who had a love for the sea, and her mad sea blue eyes certainly showed it. She was certainly one of the shortest of the Stormcrows, barely touching five feet in height, but she was not to be underestimated, as she truly showed her striking potential with her harpoon. The final member was the most recent addition to the Stormcrows: Sarlzo, a Lhazareen noble-come-sellsword who had been a commander in the extinct sellsword company: the Waterborn, before joining the Stormcrows. As a Lhazareen, he was one of the most inexperienced on the sea, not having the stomach for it like the rest, and he proved that on cue by barfing over the side.
“Good to see we are all well,” Elda mumbled sarcastically, a tone which flew over the head of Gilma, who jumped in excitement. “Isn’t it exciting? Asshai, the city on the edge of the world! Never did I think I’d be so lucky,” she gleamed, turning her gaze to the dimly lit city of shadows, something which Nkos grunted to, muttering a word in his own tongue which Elda recognised. Haunted. Elda sighed awkwardly, partly in agreeance with the Brindled Man, but turned her attention to Sarlzo. “We’re nearly there, shepherd,” she assured him, to which he shared an appreciative glance before returning over the side to spew out more bile.
Elda frowned, crossing her arms and taking her side by the members as they stared at the city. “Black rock,” Nkos uttered, pointing towards the city with his ivory tipped spear, a look of concern on his black eyes. Sarlzo lifted his head long enough to spit out a few words before dropping his head. “Why the fuck are we coming to Asshai?” Elda shrugged her shoulders, caressing her arms worriedly, but Gilma joyously shat on his sour mood. “Such a downer, aren’t ya? Where’s ya sense of adventure?” she spat, slapping him on the shoulder, but Sarlzo just rolled his eyes, staring into the blackness of the water.
“Rock flesh,” Nkos muttered, something which Elda raised an eyebrow at. “Rock flesh?” she repeated, to which the large man nodded, lifting Sarlzo onto his feet with ease and pointing to his face, where the scars of greyscale remained from the Lhazarene’s childhood. Sarlzo took hold of Nkos’ arm weakly in an attempt of retaliation, but his attempt failed him, and he fell loose to the mercy of the Brindled Man, who gently placed him down again. Nkos turned his gaze back to the city while Elda knelt down to inspect Sarlzo, a weak look on his grass green eyes. He might have once been described as a pretty fellow in his youth, but the greyscale had taken that beauty and left him scarred with skin as hard as stone, something he had managed to overcome when so many people fell to it.
Elda ran a hand through his short cropped black hair, a frown on her face as she studied his frail stature. The skin of the Lhazareen was naturally of a copper or olive colour, but Sarlzo had recently gone a pale green with his sea sickness, something he had endured for weeks with no rest, the dark bags under his eyes showing the extent of his exhaustion. “We’ll be on land soon, Sarl,” she assured him, which he could only give a weak nod of relief to. Elda rested his head against the balustrade, patting his shoulder before rising. Gilma smirked, pitilessly rolling her eyes at the Lhazarene. “He’s barely bad, you should see the Dothraki below. As crook as a dog that one,” Gilma chuckled, making Elda scowl at her. She hated how the bearded woman saw everything as a game, and was such a sociopath to the feelings of others.
“His name is Vorro,” Elda muttered, but Gilma either didn’t care or didn’t hear her, either way, Elda was in part glad that the midget she-man had nothing to say. “Lady Elda,” a soft but intimidating voice startled her from behind, making her gasp in panic as she spun around to meet the malicious golden glowing eyes of Corysu staring at her from the darkness of his dark hood, something he removed as he bowed to her, revealing his light green skin. “I did not mean to startle you,” he uttered in a freakishly toneless voice that sent shivers down Elda’s spine, but she maintained her calm, regaining her composure.
“It’s alright, Corysu,” she lied, avoiding eye contact with the Thousand Islander, her gaze focused on the black pendant on his right ear, a rune of a sort with an engraving carved in a tongue that Elda did not recognise. “It means home,” Corysu explained, seeming to know exactly what her thoughts were, something which somewhat bothered her. She turned her gaze away, expressing her disinterest in his culture, which he seemed to be completely understanding of, another thing which sincerely irritated her. “The Mad Heron wishes to speak with you,” he stated with a calm and nonchalant tone, something which made the hairs on the back of her neck stand, but her eyebrow raised to the news he sent.
“What does he want?” she asked, but as she turned to Corysu, she only met the back of his cloak as he silently crept away, making her roll her eyes in frustration. Fucking creep, she thought with some relief as she watched him disappear down into the hull of the ship, yet she pitied those who would encounter him below. “Scary bastard ain’t he?” Gilma piped up from behind her, and for once Elda found herself in agreeance with the Bearded woman. “Go on, you’d best not keep the Mad Heron waiting. The brute and I will take this sorry excuse of a fighter down to his bunk to get him cleaned up,” Gilma informed her, to which Elda nodded, and Nkos picked Sarlzo off the floor.
“But I want to go on land,” he argued, weakly hitting at Nkos’ arm. Gilma sighed, “You’re filthy, and ye ain’t even got any boots on. Come on lad!” she hustled, and the three disappeared down into the hull, leaving Elda to face the Mad Heron, who stood alone at the bow of the ship, a stern look on his impatient eyes. Elda gulped, taking a couple of slow steps after one another, until she finally found herself before the man. Erin Erenford, he was one of the smaller men she had met, standing only a few inches taller than herself, but his mean demeanour made him a much more intimidating man than what height or bulk could give. He was a slim man, with a facial expression that could only be described as hard and ambiguous, His wore a light red beard with his fiery short hair.
“Elda,” he greeted with a rash and apathetic tone, something which Elda had just grown accustomed to over the months. “Erin,” she spat back, making a cold grin touch his lips, and the two grasped each other’s forearms in greeting. “The freak said you wanted to see me,” Elda muttered, to which Erin nodded, separating from their embracement. “I do,” he acknowledged, and Elda crossed her arms, waiting impatiently for his explanation. “You must be wondering why we’ve sailed this Far East,” Erin stated, to which Elda shrugged. “The thought crossed my mind,” she admitted, making him nod.
“I’ve come looking for answers, and there is a contract here in Asshai which may be able to pay me these answers in reward for our service,” Erin stated in a tone which Elda recognised to be hopeful, something uncharacteristic for the Mad Heron. “You hope?” she emphasised, making the man frown as he crossed his arms. “If she does not supply the information I want then I’ll kill her,” Erin assured her, to which Elda sighed and nodded. “It must be some important information,” Elda stated in an attempt to dig some answers out of him. Erin nodded, leaning against the balustrade and looking to the dark city of Asshai.
“It is,” he mumbled quietly to himself, and when he noticed Elda staring at him impatiently he clarified. “My lover, Tariqa… She was assassinated, and a seal of the Dawn Empire, her home, was pinned to her bare breasts when I found her. I want to know who did this, I want my revenge,” Erin grumbled, clenching his fists as he stared at the black city. “And this woman claims she has the answers, but being an Asshai’i, she won’t give away this information for free,” Erin spat with some frustration, making Elda sigh. “So where do I come into this,” she asked reluctantly, and Erin looked at her as if she would’ve never asked.
“I am to meet her with one of my commanders at an abandoned warehouse located near the old docks of Asshai, but I cannot be sure if her intentions remain true, so I need another to meet with a local going by the name of Vyrano Nearthe while I negotiate terms with this contract of ours,” Erin stated, to which Elda raised an eyebrow. “And who is this Vyrano Nearthe?” she asked, to which Erin sighed. “He’s an assassin, and a follower of the Red God. One of Corysu’s associates,” Erin explained, and Elda rolled her eyes. “Of course he is,” she muttered, but Erin overlooked her spite for the green-skinned freak.
“I am at a dilemma with a decision however, as I know that Corysu would be beneficial for me to have at the negotiations, but I am unsure on how our contract would take his foreign presence,” Erin sighed, “yet I am reminded that you were a sub-commander of the Old Thieves, which in this situation may prove better than two assassins in search for something that needs to be stolen, and I do not wish to start a war during our time here, but this alliance means more to me than anything else,” Erin stated, a frown settling over his hard face. “So I want to know, where can you serve me best? As a thief or a diplomat?”
Elda
The looming darkness of the city of Asshai cast its shadows over the Jade Sea as the Stormcrows made their approach to the legendary… more city of the East. Elda stood beside the helm, her left hand resting on the hilt of her broadsword while the other was positioned on the railing that guarded those from tripping to the lower deck. Beside her, on the helm, stood the captain of the vessel, a ‘sellsail’ as she proclaimed herself: Vellera Essaar. They had met the Valyrian girl during their time in Astapor, and after a settled price, she had agreed to take the company of the Stormcrows to the Shadowlands.
“I fucking hate this place,” she muttered aloud, making Elda raise an eyebrow as she heard it. She side-glanced the girl, who stood a little taller than herself. She had a slim build, but there was certainly some definition to the muscles she openly displayed on her arms, where the rest of her body was dressed in blue leather and chainmail… [view original content]
Elda
The looming darkness of the city of Asshai cast its shadows over the Jade Sea as the Stormcrows made their approach to the legendary… more city of the East. Elda stood beside the helm, her left hand resting on the hilt of her broadsword while the other was positioned on the railing that guarded those from tripping to the lower deck. Beside her, on the helm, stood the captain of the vessel, a ‘sellsail’ as she proclaimed herself: Vellera Essaar. They had met the Valyrian girl during their time in Astapor, and after a settled price, she had agreed to take the company of the Stormcrows to the Shadowlands.
“I fucking hate this place,” she muttered aloud, making Elda raise an eyebrow as she heard it. She side-glanced the girl, who stood a little taller than herself. She had a slim build, but there was certainly some definition to the muscles she openly displayed on her arms, where the rest of her body was dressed in blue leather and chainmail… [view original content]
Elda
The looming darkness of the city of Asshai cast its shadows over the Jade Sea as the Stormcrows made their approach to the legendary… more city of the East. Elda stood beside the helm, her left hand resting on the hilt of her broadsword while the other was positioned on the railing that guarded those from tripping to the lower deck. Beside her, on the helm, stood the captain of the vessel, a ‘sellsail’ as she proclaimed herself: Vellera Essaar. They had met the Valyrian girl during their time in Astapor, and after a settled price, she had agreed to take the company of the Stormcrows to the Shadowlands.
“I fucking hate this place,” she muttered aloud, making Elda raise an eyebrow as she heard it. She side-glanced the girl, who stood a little taller than herself. She had a slim build, but there was certainly some definition to the muscles she openly displayed on her arms, where the rest of her body was dressed in blue leather and chainmail… [view original content]
Elda
The looming darkness of the city of Asshai cast its shadows over the Jade Sea as the Stormcrows made their approach to the legendary… more city of the East. Elda stood beside the helm, her left hand resting on the hilt of her broadsword while the other was positioned on the railing that guarded those from tripping to the lower deck. Beside her, on the helm, stood the captain of the vessel, a ‘sellsail’ as she proclaimed herself: Vellera Essaar. They had met the Valyrian girl during their time in Astapor, and after a settled price, she had agreed to take the company of the Stormcrows to the Shadowlands.
“I fucking hate this place,” she muttered aloud, making Elda raise an eyebrow as she heard it. She side-glanced the girl, who stood a little taller than herself. She had a slim build, but there was certainly some definition to the muscles she openly displayed on her arms, where the rest of her body was dressed in blue leather and chainmail… [view original content]
I won't close the vote just yet, but I do have another part ready, which goes to another new PoV: Crokus. He too is a sellsword, a commander of the renowned Company of the Cat, who are currently in service to King Hyrkoon.
A light wind breezed through the divides of ice and bone, battering against the heavy loaded carts that wheeled along the treacherous Stone Road, one of the three chief trade routes of the Kingdom of Hyrkoon, and the road that led to the capital: Samyriana. Daily, no matter the weather, merchant caravans, emissaries and explorers would travel along the Stone Road, pay their toll at Samyriana and then go their own ways. Those who tried to evade the toll would acquire a debt more grim and demanding than that of a few silver coins.
Crokus followed the dusty trail through the Bone Mountains, leaving the sight of Samyriana and entering one of the many sand vales of the Skull Peaks. Accompanying him was Sygirr Dargur, the final Waterborn after the Feast of Skane, and a Commander of the Company of the Cat, just like Crokus. Harridan Pyke too was a Commander of the Company of the Cat, and arguably the most strange of them all. With them were two other members of the company: Darren Spyre, a Northman from Westeros, and the young Leobald Graves.
“Why the fuck has Dunn got us scouring the mountains for one missing stowaway,” Harridan spat in complaint, pulling himself up the mountain with a defiant ferocity in his movement. Crokus rolled his eye, following after him with a heating temper. “Do you ever stop whining?” Crokus muttered, standing himself upright as they reached a flatland on the path, only to be grabbed by the scruff of his collar and pinned against the wall, forced to stare into Harridan’s cloudy eyes, ireful and bitter.
“I’m not fucking whining,” he spat, to which Crokus just lifted his hands up in submission, not wishing to start a fight amongst his comrades. Leobald was the next to follow them up, a grin on his face. “I don’t know about that, Pyke, your lips are moving and all I can hear is complaining. That sounds an awful lot like whining to me,” he quipped, brushing his pants of the dust and merely dodging Harrigan’s angered fist past his cheek. Crokus caught the Ironborn by the wrist before he could throw another.
“Little brat,” Harrigan muttered, freeing himself from Crokus’ grip. Darren and Sygirr brought up the rear, taking a break on the bit of flat which now led into a narrow pathway, barely wide enough for a wagon to pull through, but the tracks argued otherwise. “Must be important,” Darren mumbled, reclaiming his breath as he leant against the sandy wall. “To send all of his commanders on such a mission,” he finished, taking in a deep breath of air.
“Aethon still remains at Samyriana,” Sygirr muttered, shoulder bumping Darren as he passed him, and pushing through to the front of the crowd when Harridan stood with a scowl over his harsh face. He lowered his gaze to the tracks, kneeling down and studying them closer before unsheathing his steel longsword: Sentence. “We’re close,” he announced, to which Crokus nodded, unsheathing his own exotic YiTish longsword. The others followed his example, preparing themselves.
“Quite a fucking effort this merchant has gone to in order to avoid a toll,” Darren spat, wiping his brow before following the moving crowd. “It’s not that,” Sygirr muttered, frustration thick in his tone. “What then?” Leobald piped up, his youthful curiosity getting the better of him. Sygirr sighed, stopping a moment to inspect the tracks again. “This ‘merchant’ abducted Hyrkoon’s wife, and fled into the mountains last night. Dunn’s tasked us with bringing her back,” the Skanish explained, making Leobald tune a drawn out whistle.
“The queen of the kingdom has been abducted and they send us? In the North, if a queen was kidnapped then all of the king’s soldiers and bannermen would be in pursuit, not just some fucking sellswords,” Darren exclaimed, making Sygirr churn a deep growl. “In the North, you fuckers side with savages to murder mere farmers and peasants from a distance island. In the North, men are more interested in supping in their keep than helping those who starve on their streets. In the North…” Sygirr spat, but he was halted when Crokus placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him back from meeting face-to-face with Darren Spyre.
“That’s not me,” Darren muttered, turning his gaze away from the Waterborn, who only returned back to the front of the pack. “So if I was a whoreson abductor, where would I take the most valuable jewel of all the Kingdom?” Harridan wondered aloud, making Crokus roll his eye. “You are a whoreson abductor,” he corrected, to which the Ironborn chuckled and nodded. “Aye, and you are the thief, so I’d say you have the most insight here,” Harridan wagered, punching Crokus on the arm. “The mountains,” Crokus answered bluntly, making Harridan grumble coldly. “Of course you would,” he muttered, pushing ahead of him.
“My question was never answered,” Darren stated, now being the man to bring up the rear. Crokus sighed, twirling his exotic blade between his fingers. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe no one gives a shit?” Crokus challenged him, but Darren didn’t take a bite of it. “Why us?” he persisted, making Crokus groan in frustration. “Because we’re expendable, frost skull. Sending Hyrkoon’s army through the Bone Mountains would result in more casualties than what he can spare, and we’ll be going deep into Dothraki territory if we continue down this path,” Crokus explained, making Darren raise an eyebrow.
“Dothraki?” he asked, but Crokus was unsure whether he was in disbelief or just unaware of the name, either way, Sygirr put an end to their dull conversation with a raise of his open hand. “Crokus, get up here,” he ordered, making Crokus raise an eyebrow. He’s in no position to order me around, he thought bitterly, but he could hear something was off in the Skanish’s tone. He pushed past Harridan and Leobald before joining Sygirr side, where he stopped Crokus from moving any further, nodding to the distance. “That’s the cart,” Sygirr pointed, and when Crokus’ eyes adjusted to the dark path, he spotted the old wooden cart of pelts and grains leaked onto the ground, and a corpse among it. “What should we do?” he asked, his voice as soft as the hushing wind. Crokus frowned.
“We didn’t come this far to get turned around by one corpse, we check it out and keep moving. We have a job to do,” Crokus stated, and Sygirr nodded. Silent and cautious, the Company of the Cat prowled towards the scene, their wits about them as they watched for a trap. When they were finally upon the cart and its slain corpse, the only signs of movement were the dead shrubbery that shadowed over the narrow ravine they found themselves in. Crokus turned to Leobald, signalling for him to search the wagon, before turning to Sygirr, who examined the corpse.
A deep gash resided across his throat, cutting through his windpipe and gushing fresh blood which Sygirr brought to his lips. “This happened recently,” Sygirr muttered, and Crokus nodded, readjusting his grip around his sword. He flicked his gaze to Leobald, who lifted his head from the other side of the cart. “No queen, but there’s tracks,” Leobald stated, and both Harridan and Crokus climbed over the cart to join the teenager with his findings. “Hoof marks,” Crokus muttered, and Leobald gritted his teeth in angst. “Dothraki?” he mumbled in question, something which Harridan grunted to.
“Who the fuck else?” he muttered, taking a firm grip on his axes, one in each hand. Crokus frowned, his gaze following the single-filed track of hoof prints. “So close to Samyriana, they’d have to be scouts,” Crokus suggested, but Harridan shrugged his shoulders. “They’ll be dead if they come back,” Harridan assured him, running the axe blades across each other. “We’ll be dead if we keep going,” Sygirr stated in confidence as he and Darren climbed over the merchant cart. Crokus sighed, turning his gaze back to the Skanish.
“Then go back, go explain to the King that his wife is now in the hands of the Dothraki,” Crokus muttered, but Sygirr firmly shook his head. “I will not run,” he seethed, running a hand across the flat of his blade. “Then we keep moving,” Crokus grumbled, but Leobald shook his head. “I didn’t come this far east just to have my tongue pulled from my throat by some screaming horse-fuckers,” he spat in defiance, making Crokus glare at him with his one eye. “Then go,” he muttered, slapping the boy on the back of his head. Leobald sent Crokus a firm glare, but Darren hushed them before they could continue to bicker.
“Do you hear that?” he whispered, and each of them fell silent, listening through the silence and past the wind for something out of the ordinary. They listened for a moment that dragged on to ad nauseam, but continued to listen regardless, and then they heard it. A soft snicker in the distance, and the soft tapping of something on stone, slowly growing in volume as it grew nearer to them. The sound identified as hooves on stone, and before long they heard the loud snickering of their steeds. Dothraki, Crokus thought, but his thoughts were heard by the company, whom gathered to form a line in retaliation.
Sweat ran down his brow as he took a firmly gripped the hilt of his blade, posturing himself defensively. He had dismounted men on horseback before, but never crammed side-by-side with five other men, and certainly not in a narrow ravine against those born to the horse. Tension grew thick among them, and they stood for minutes in their prepared stance, angst rushing through their veins until the silence of the mountains returned. Hesitantly, the men broke their formation, glancing at each other with confused eyes, and then it started.
The first arrow landed an inch from Crokus’ foot, the second between Leobald’s legs, and the third made contact with the iron of Harridan’s left axe, flinging it from his hand. “Seven shits!” Harridan exclaimed, and Crokus’ eye widened before Sygirr screamed it. “AMBUSH!” Crokus flickered his gaze frantically for an escape route as arrows darted passed them, and the men around him pushed past each other in panic, until the first of them yelped in pain, an arrow piercing through Darren’s leg. Crokus focused on the cart. “Everyone under the wagon!” he ordered, pushing Leobald forward and taking Darren’s spare arm as Harridan started to drag him. An arrow scathed Crokus’ shoulder as they pulled Darren under, the arrowhead pinning him to the wooden cart, which he quickly broke and joined his comrades.
Arrows rained down in the sand behind and ahead of them, thundering on the wood that shielded them from above. Darren groaned as Sygirr reluctantly attended to his leg, snapping the arrow and patching his leg, still impaled with the broken arrow shaft. “Quit your fucking whinging, Northman,” Sygirr yelled, but his voice was drowned out with the thundering hooves that stormed down the ravine, and Crokus’ eye laid on the long legs of the horses first.
They leaped over the cart effortlessly, snapping the arrows shafts beneath them like twigs on a forest path. Their screaming riders drowned their ears, making their hearts quicken as they spun their steeds for a second run, or so it appeared initially. Crokus watched as more legs appeared, jumping down from their beasts, and their glinting arakhs rubbing against their shins. The five remained dead silent as the legs approached them, stopping only a few feet away. Crokus gulped as he heard the deafening crack of a leather whip, which smashed against the cart and landed before their eyes.
“Havzi jerakasar eyelat lavakh akkate dalfe, ishish havzi jerakasar hakeso okeo lajat,” a male voice spat, followed by a chuckle by his comrades, but the figure with the whip did not partake in his humour. “He says that you make a lot of sound for a company of cats, perhaps you are reputed for your infighting,” the voice translated, and Crokus recognised the voice to belong to either a woman or a little boy. The five remained silent, save for Darren’s groans as Sygirr finished up with bandaging his wound. “The warrior queen said her husband would send you,” she added, making Crokus raise an eyebrow. “I must admit, these cowering pussies are not what I expected from the Company of the Cat,” she taunted, and the five watched the whip lift from the sand.
Crokus gritted his teeth, being the first to crawl out to meet the woman that stood before them. She stood tall, as tall as Crokus, if not a bit taller, dressed in leather hide typical of the Dothraki, an arakh hanging from her belt and a coiled whip in her hands. A tattoo ran up her left hand to her shoulder, and over her right shoulder her black braided hair fell to her forearm. Crokus lifted his gaze to her violet, almond-shaped eyes, her skin tone was tanned and there was a smirk on her full lips. Crokus tried his best to ignore her beauty, keeping on task. “You have the queen?” he asked, fingering the hilt of his blade, but she just chuckled.
“You’re hardly in a position to ask questions,” she stated coldly, taking grip of the hilt of his blade and freeing it from his hands, which to his own surprise, he let her. “The fuck are you doing, Crokus?” Harridan growled, standing from the sand with his axes prepared to swing, but the woman before them sent him a scowl. “She did ask for you alive, but I’m not going out of my way to honour the requests of a royal slut,” she spat, to which Crokus shot a glare at her. “That slut is the wife of King Hyrkoon, our contractor,” Crokus stated in a warning tone, to which the woman’s smirk returned.
“She is, and she’s also the sister of Khal Verro,” she claimed with a challenging tone, but Crokus did not aggress. “And who are you?” Sygirr asked with concern, freeing himself from underneath the cart with Leobald and a distressed Darren. “I am Zhali, lieutenant of Khal Verro,” she announced, to which Crokus grunted. “You know a lot of the Common Tongue,” he observed, to which Zhali nodded. “We’ve had many slaves with much to talk about, and I have listened.” Crokus glared at her, apathetic to her story, “good for you,” he said, faking a smile. “Where’s the queen?” he spat, demanding his answer, but Zhali only smirked, running a hand through Crokus’ greying hair before pouting her lips.
“You’re quite a handsome young man,” she stated seductively, turning her gaze to Leobald, who raised an eyebrow. “Run back to Samyriana and tell your king of Khal Verro’s approach, or I’ll take out your buddy’s other eye,” she threatened, and Leobald shot a quick glance to Crokus, who gave his approval without a second thought. “Good lad,” she smiled, watching as the young man awkwardly walked passed the Dothraki who disarmed him, and then came to disarm the rest. “Now, let me take you to your queen,” she teased, turning back to her comrades and mounting her horse. “Try to keep up.”
Crokus
A light wind breezed through the divides of ice and bone, battering against the heavy loaded carts that wheeled along the treacher… moreous Stone Road, one of the three chief trade routes of the Kingdom of Hyrkoon, and the road that led to the capital: Samyriana. Daily, no matter the weather, merchant caravans, emissaries and explorers would travel along the Stone Road, pay their toll at Samyriana and then go their own ways. Those who tried to evade the toll would acquire a debt more grim and demanding than that of a few silver coins.
Crokus followed the dusty trail through the Bone Mountains, leaving the sight of Samyriana and entering one of the many sand vales of the Skull Peaks. Accompanying him was Sygirr Dargur, the final Waterborn after the Feast of Skane, and a Commander of the Company of the Cat, just like Crokus. Harridan Pyke too was a Commander of the Company of the Cat, and arguably the most strange of them all. With them … [view original content]
Ooh man,to be honest with you this gave me more hype than the whole two seasons of the show together.
Elda,Corysu,Sarlzo And of course Erin I'm so proud of being their creator!
Foreigners don't react well to the Thousand Islanders,despite Corysu being a capable man I think is better to let him act in the shadows for now,The Stormcrows can't risk a hostile situation at this meeting if they want to fullfil Erin's wishes...
Cheerings to you man,you've make this bunch of characters real.
Let me remark Sygirr's quote:"In the North, men are more interested in supping in their keep than helping those who starve on their streets" looking forward for more!
Alright, the voting is closed! Kaliza will remain at the stalls. Gosh, I have to say this was one of the most interesting character introduc… moretions I've ever done. Sometimes I wonder whether I'm writing a GoT fan fiction or gory smut, I guess it's the same thing?
Anyway, the next part is ready, and it goes to a new PoV (the next few parts will be introducing new PoV's, just a heads up), which will bring a second perspective to Asshai. This character's name is Elda, an Andal sellsword currently travelling with the Stormcrows. Hope you guys enjoy.
That's quite nice surprise to get another part in such short period of time, thank you for that.
Another interesting character introduced, looking forward for more.
Crokus
A light wind breezed through the divides of ice and bone, battering against the heavy loaded carts that wheeled along the treacher… moreous Stone Road, one of the three chief trade routes of the Kingdom of Hyrkoon, and the road that led to the capital: Samyriana. Daily, no matter the weather, merchant caravans, emissaries and explorers would travel along the Stone Road, pay their toll at Samyriana and then go their own ways. Those who tried to evade the toll would acquire a debt more grim and demanding than that of a few silver coins.
Crokus followed the dusty trail through the Bone Mountains, leaving the sight of Samyriana and entering one of the many sand vales of the Skull Peaks. Accompanying him was Sygirr Dargur, the final Waterborn after the Feast of Skane, and a Commander of the Company of the Cat, just like Crokus. Harridan Pyke too was a Commander of the Company of the Cat, and arguably the most strange of them all. With them … [view original content]
Ah, a new PoV and another one I find to hold a lot of potential. Very interesting and great job with Elda and the others here. In particular, I like this colourful cast of side characters. A Brindled Man, an Ibbenese, a Lazharene who suffered from Greyscale and particularly that utterly creepy Thousand Islander fish-man, those are some very fascinating characters and it makes off for a great and engaging start. Can't wait for more from this PoV
[Diplomat]
Hm, both are likely to offer very interesting possibilities for the story, though I must admit, I like the Diplomat choice a little bit more I am fine with either of them winning, but think I prefer some diplomatic work, that always sounds like something that opens up interesting chances for Elda's storyline.
Elda
The looming darkness of the city of Asshai cast its shadows over the Jade Sea as the Stormcrows made their approach to the legendary… more city of the East. Elda stood beside the helm, her left hand resting on the hilt of her broadsword while the other was positioned on the railing that guarded those from tripping to the lower deck. Beside her, on the helm, stood the captain of the vessel, a ‘sellsail’ as she proclaimed herself: Vellera Essaar. They had met the Valyrian girl during their time in Astapor, and after a settled price, she had agreed to take the company of the Stormcrows to the Shadowlands.
“I fucking hate this place,” she muttered aloud, making Elda raise an eyebrow as she heard it. She side-glanced the girl, who stood a little taller than herself. She had a slim build, but there was certainly some definition to the muscles she openly displayed on her arms, where the rest of her body was dressed in blue leather and chainmail… [view original content]
And the voting is closed! Elda will choose to be a diplomat for Erin Erenford, and will accompany him to the meeting. Both of these choices would have led to pretty interesting alternatives, and it really came down to how Elda wants to prove herself to Erin. She is already a credible thief, perhaps she would have been better off with the other option, but there is also without a doubt that Corysu's presence alone could put the potential deal in danger, so Elda will have to make sure she doesn't fuck it up!
Anyway, the newest part is ready, and it follows after Crokus' part, introducing the capital city of the Kingdom of Hyrkoon: Samyriana. This new PoV is Alexandros Karalis, the right hand man of King Markus Hyrkoon, and the rest I will leave for the part to show
Elda
The looming darkness of the city of Asshai cast its shadows over the Jade Sea as the Stormcrows made their approach to the legendary… more city of the East. Elda stood beside the helm, her left hand resting on the hilt of her broadsword while the other was positioned on the railing that guarded those from tripping to the lower deck. Beside her, on the helm, stood the captain of the vessel, a ‘sellsail’ as she proclaimed herself: Vellera Essaar. They had met the Valyrian girl during their time in Astapor, and after a settled price, she had agreed to take the company of the Stormcrows to the Shadowlands.
“I fucking hate this place,” she muttered aloud, making Elda raise an eyebrow as she heard it. She side-glanced the girl, who stood a little taller than herself. She had a slim build, but there was certainly some definition to the muscles she openly displayed on her arms, where the rest of her body was dressed in blue leather and chainmail… [view original content]
The wind howled through the Bone and Ice Mountains, tunnelling down the Stone Road and breezing through Samyriana with a mild temperature that could be deemed pleasant on the face. The people of the capital attending their business in the streets far below as Alexandros stared down to them, his hands resting on the stone railings of the small balcony that was open to the council quarters. He briefly turned his gaze back to the round stone table where twelve stone chairs stood, nine of them occupied. Late again, Alexandros thought as a frown touched his face, and he turned back to look over his city. His city, a term not to be used lightly, nor in the company of others. These words the thoughts that stormed through his mind, the sinful and cursing, yet alluring and ambitious thoughts that he worked day and night to put into action.
Behind him sat a council of naive men, none strong or willing enough to confront their king on matters that he did not approve of, and certainly none fit to sit on his throne. Not even was Markus Hyrkoon worthy of his own throne, a man born to rule, yet was more concerned with waging war on those who would prove as beneficial allies. Alexandros tightened his grip around the stone railings with the thought of it, yet another part of him made his grip release just as readily. Markus was his friend, his closest friend, and that left him in a torn situation. Brother or Kingdom, Alexandros thought grimly, thinking back to the origins of his house.
Alexandros barely noticed the bulky bastard son of Hyrkoon: Aegis Nothos, take his place by Alex’s side, staring out to the treacherous terrain that was their home. “Somewhere out there, Queen Khili is missing by the hands of some whoreson merchant, and he entrusts some cock sucking sellswords to find them. How am I ever going to prove my worth?” he muttered, resting his cheek on his palm as he leant against the railings. A small smile came to Alex’s lips as he turned his gaze to the bastard, easily his favourite of Markus’ two sons.
“Your father loves you, Aegis. He knows your worth, you wouldn’t be a general in his army if he didn’t see you fit for it,” Alex assured him, but Aegis just sighed, staring out to the mountains with longing light blue eyes. “Besides, it’s hard to find someone that doesn’t wish to me found,” Alexandros stated, turning his gaze back to the mountains. This made Aegis raise his eyebrow, but he turned his gaze back to the mountains shortly after.
“How do you mean?” he queried, to which Alexandros sighed. A part of him was left disappointed that the man was more daft than his lesser human brother, but he preferred his company over the half-horse prince. “Khili can handle herself, she wouldn’t have been stolen unless she wanted to be stolen,” Alexandros muttered, crossing his arms as he glared out to the icy peaks. “Markus wastes his time looking for the horse-woman, it’s clear her loyalties like with the savages,” Alexandros seethed, to which Aegis shrugged.
“If he wanted her back he should’ve sent me. My men would have found her within hours, unlike these sellswords. The ‘Company of the Cat,’ lazy fucks,” he muttered, flicking his gaze back to their leader: Dalton Dunn, who sat impatiently at the round table, the council waiting for King Hyrkoon’s arrival. “Markus sent the Company of the Cat because they’re expendable, unlike his sons or army,” he stated, but Aegis still seemed unconvinced. Alexandros placed a hand on the man’s shoulder before returning back into the council chambers, a few of the councilmen turning their gaze to him.
The round table currently sat all but the King and Queen, save for Alexandros and Aegis who had departed their seats. The remaining eight were Prince Hykerus of Hyrkoon, the only legitimate son of King Markus Hyrkoon, but also the most illegitimate in blood; being half savage and half royal. Beside him sat Khristos Laskaris, the treasurer, then Virtus Obilix, the justiciar. Further around the table sat Cleon Kotas, the spymaster, and beside him was Jason Grivas, the shipmaster. Notus Raptis filled up the space between Cleon and Virtus, he was a warlock, and arguably the man that Alexandros trusted the least on this council. The final two seats belonged to Dalton Dunn, the leader of the Company of the Cats and the personal guard of King Markus, as well as Harrys Majeword, the head of the royal guard. Both seemingly doing a terrible job, Alexandros thought dryly as he took his seat.
“We’ve been waiting a good half hour already,” Grivas muttered, an impatient look on his eyes. “Indeed, where is the King?” Virtus asked, a concerned look on his face. Alexandros sighed, clasping his hands as he eyed each of the men around the table. “It would seem he is not coming,” he stated clearly, and the same faces showed their bitter annoyance to this. “As his right hand, I will commence this meeting,” Alexandros muttered dryly, and a few murmurs spread between some of the men, but instantly silenced as Alexandros pierced them down.
“Lord Kotas,” Alexandros started, “what have you heard from the Ghiscari Empire?” Cleon Kotas turned his placid gaze to the Hand. “The Ghiscari Empire wars with the Kingdoms of Sarnor and the Wood Walkers,” Cleon Kotas stated calmly, to which Lord Laskaris spoke up. “They are growing nearer to the Mountains, the Kingdom of the Wood Walkers constantly trade along the Steel Road,” Khristos stated, to which a few murmurs from the council urged their discomfort with that matter.
“The Ghiscari Empire will pose no threat to our Kingdom, gentleman, but we must look to secure our trade routes with Qarth, Lhazar and the Wood Walkers. Khristos, have an emissary travel to Old Ghis to propose an alliance with the Emperor.” Khristos turned a cold eye to Alexandros, a look of suspicion and disapproval on his glare. “His grace would not approve of this decision,” Khristos warned, to which Alexandros halted a moment, turning his gaze to Prince Hykerus, and then back to Khristos.
“When Markus begins to take part in his council meetings, his word will be heard and obeyed, but until then we are the archons of this grand kingdom, and to maintain our strength we must gain allies,” Alexandros argued, but before Khristos could retaliate, Hykerus intervened with disdain thick in his words. “Lord Karalis, your word is respected throughout the kingdom to no avail, and I am sure you have your reasons to see the Ghiscari Empire has beneficial allies to our kingdom, but you are not the king. Here, as a council, we decided over a voting, and the king has the final say. Not you,” Hykerus stated, and the two men locked eyes before Aegis spoke up.
“Our numbers are thin stretched as it is, we risk putting Samyriana or the other cities in danger by increasing the guard along the trading roads,” Aegis stated, and he received a firm nod from Lord Grivas. “Hyrkoon’s military must focus on what is best for the Kingdom, and that is taking the Great Dawn Empire,” Grivas grumbled, making Dalton Dunn roll his eyes. “It’s the fucking Jogos Nhai which requires our attention,” Dalton muttered, crossing his arms as he stared coldly at the centre of the round table. Harrys Majeword shot a glare at him, but the leader of the infamous sellsword company ignored his displeasure.
“They are the greatest risk to us currently,” Aegis acknowledged, to which Alexandros supported him with a nod. “We should be turning our eyes to the savages that would rape our women, murder our children and burn down our homes,” Alexandros stated in agreement, making Hykerus roll his eyes ignorantly. “You spit on all those that you believe are beneath you, Lord Karalis. The Dothraki have been honourable to my father’s terms, you ought to look at finding terms with the Jogos Nhai,” Hykerus stated, and Harrys Majeword showed his agreeance to this with a firm nod.
“The Dothraki have been honourable?” Alexandros challenged, a smirk touching his lips. “Honourable? Really? Tell that to the Qarthi traders who refuse to travel along the Sand Road and trade with Bayasabhad, yet instead trade with Asabhad,” Alexandros growled, to which Hykerus glared at the Hand with distaste. “A city we will take back once we conquer the lands of the ‘Great’ Empire of the Dawn,” Hykerus stated, but before Alexandros could reply, the two were cut off as the main doors to the council chambers flung open and in ran a boy.
His young face was coated with sand, as well as his cheap leather attire. His dark hair was a mess of knots and curls, sand riddled through it, and perhaps the only part of him unstained from his filth were his eyes, a dark grey. He bent down in gasp for air as Dalton Dunn stood from his seat, a dangerous look on his piercing eyes. “Graves,” he muttered in low greeting approaching the boy with heavy footsteps. The young man regained his composure as his boss stood before him.
“Crokus,” he exclaimed, gasping for air, he leant against the muscular bulk of his commander to catch his breath. Dalton raised an eyebrow in concern, but there was a look of impatience on his eyes. “The fuck are you saying, Leobald? What’s happened to Crokus?” Dalton spat, rattling the young man. Leobald looked up to Dalton with worried eyes. “They found us,” Leobald uttered, “the Dothraki. They sent me back, to deliver a message,” he stated, stopping to catch a breath. Alexandros arose from his seat, leaning on his hands against the table as he studied the boy’s eyes.
“What’s the message?” Alexandros asked, his tone soft but concerned. Leobald gulped, turning his gaze up to Dalton, who gave him a firm nod. The young man turned his gaze back to Alexandros, running a hand through his hair. “She said... Khal Verro is coming, he has the Queen, and now Crokus and the others too,” Leobald explained, making Alexandros frown as he shifted his weight back onto his legs, standing tall. Dalton raised an eyebrow, turning his gaze to Leobald.
“Who’s she?” he muttered, and Leobald bit his lip awkwardly. “The woman who ambushed us, Zhali, she threatened to take out Crokus’ other eye if I didn’t run to Samyriana to tell you,” Leobald stated, and Alexandros only turned his gaze to Hykerus to spot his reaction. “Nothing but honourable, eh?” he mocked, making the crown prince avert his bitter gaze. Alexandros let out a sigh, turning his attention back to Dalton and Leobald. “Go and rest, you’ve earned it,” Alexandros ordered, and Leobald gave a nod before exiting the council chambers. The rest of the council turned their gaze to Alexandros, who studied each of them. “This session is concluded. Council dismissed,” Alexandros muttered, and the majority of them nodded, bowed and took their leave.
Dalton Dunn remained after the rest had left, an intimidating look on his eyes. He was an intimidating man by presence alone, towering most men, and Alexandros was included. He wore a large busy brown beard, and a filthy long scar on his face gave him a dangerous appearance, but his deathly were the most concerning. He wore a black earring in one ear and a white earring in the other, his clothes reeked of body odour and death, something he never bothered to change out of or wash. Normally, this kind of company was the kind that Alexandros despised and hated with a passion, yet Dalton had proved himself as an excellent warrior, and Alexandros had come to respect him for his strict behaviour to those who wronged him or his company.
“If this Khal Verro has harmed any of my men in any way…” Dalton started in warning, but Alexandros just gave him an understanding nod. “He will regret it, rest assured,” Alexandros stated, but Dalton shook his head. “I gave Hyrkoon my best men to search for his horse-woman, half of them are my most trusted commanders. If any of my men have been harmed or killed by the hands of this Dothraki whoreson, I will kill him, regardless of whatever the fuck he wants. You going to allow that?” Dalton queried, a taste for blood on his tongue, a look of death in his eyes. Alexandros held his tongue from giving his instant opinion. Yes, he would not stop Dalton from cutting open the throat of Dothraki savages, but he knew that could potentially lead to further problems down the track. Alternatively, he could promise to compensate for his losses, but what more could a sellsword entrusted to the king’s safety want?
[Say you’d allow it] [Say you’ll compensate for his losses] [Say that decision belongs to Hyrkoon]
Alexandros
The wind howled through the Bone and Ice Mountains, tunnelling down the Stone Road and breezing through Samyriana with a mild … moretemperature that could be deemed pleasant on the face. The people of the capital attending their business in the streets far below as Alexandros stared down to them, his hands resting on the stone railings of the small balcony that was open to the council quarters. He briefly turned his gaze back to the round stone table where twelve stone chairs stood, nine of them occupied. Late again, Alexandros thought as a frown touched his face, and he turned back to look over his city. His city, a term not to be used lightly, nor in the company of others. These words the thoughts that stormed through his mind, the sinful and cursing, yet alluring and ambitious thoughts that he worked day and night to put into action.
Behind him sat a council of naive men, none strong or willing enough to confront their king on m… [view original content]
But I trust Dalton won't like any of the choices that were suggested still is good for the hand of the King to have him in a good side if not he could decide to leave with all his troops and men leaving the Kingdom in a precarious position.
Still I can't predict the man's possible reaction so let's be polite guys!
The Warlock curious thing he have became an advisor to Hyrkoon, it's a bad sign being out of Qarth?
Alexandros
The wind howled through the Bone and Ice Mountains, tunnelling down the Stone Road and breezing through Samyriana with a mild … moretemperature that could be deemed pleasant on the face. The people of the capital attending their business in the streets far below as Alexandros stared down to them, his hands resting on the stone railings of the small balcony that was open to the council quarters. He briefly turned his gaze back to the round stone table where twelve stone chairs stood, nine of them occupied. Late again, Alexandros thought as a frown touched his face, and he turned back to look over his city. His city, a term not to be used lightly, nor in the company of others. These words the thoughts that stormed through his mind, the sinful and cursing, yet alluring and ambitious thoughts that he worked day and night to put into action.
Behind him sat a council of naive men, none strong or willing enough to confront their king on m… [view original content]
Alexandros
The wind howled through the Bone and Ice Mountains, tunnelling down the Stone Road and breezing through Samyriana with a mild … moretemperature that could be deemed pleasant on the face. The people of the capital attending their business in the streets far below as Alexandros stared down to them, his hands resting on the stone railings of the small balcony that was open to the council quarters. He briefly turned his gaze back to the round stone table where twelve stone chairs stood, nine of them occupied. Late again, Alexandros thought as a frown touched his face, and he turned back to look over his city. His city, a term not to be used lightly, nor in the company of others. These words the thoughts that stormed through his mind, the sinful and cursing, yet alluring and ambitious thoughts that he worked day and night to put into action.
Behind him sat a council of naive men, none strong or willing enough to confront their king on m… [view original content]
Alexandros
The wind howled through the Bone and Ice Mountains, tunnelling down the Stone Road and breezing through Samyriana with a mild … moretemperature that could be deemed pleasant on the face. The people of the capital attending their business in the streets far below as Alexandros stared down to them, his hands resting on the stone railings of the small balcony that was open to the council quarters. He briefly turned his gaze back to the round stone table where twelve stone chairs stood, nine of them occupied. Late again, Alexandros thought as a frown touched his face, and he turned back to look over his city. His city, a term not to be used lightly, nor in the company of others. These words the thoughts that stormed through his mind, the sinful and cursing, yet alluring and ambitious thoughts that he worked day and night to put into action.
Behind him sat a council of naive men, none strong or willing enough to confront their king on m… [view original content]
Oh yes, I am very happy to see Alexandros in the story I really enjoyed this first part of him, can't wait to see where the journey will head to!
[Say that decision belongs to Hyrkoon]
Ah, the good thing about being ambitious, but not the one with the ultimate power in the kingdom is, things can always be delegated up, especially when they are uncomfortable choices. Personally, I would allow this to him, as I can understand his anger, but then again, this is bound to cause problems with the more Dothraki-friendly elements at court, something Alexandros might not need right now. So, let's do what Hykerus said, in quite an ironical way on top of that. I like it
Alexandros
The wind howled through the Bone and Ice Mountains, tunnelling down the Stone Road and breezing through Samyriana with a mild … moretemperature that could be deemed pleasant on the face. The people of the capital attending their business in the streets far below as Alexandros stared down to them, his hands resting on the stone railings of the small balcony that was open to the council quarters. He briefly turned his gaze back to the round stone table where twelve stone chairs stood, nine of them occupied. Late again, Alexandros thought as a frown touched his face, and he turned back to look over his city. His city, a term not to be used lightly, nor in the company of others. These words the thoughts that stormed through his mind, the sinful and cursing, yet alluring and ambitious thoughts that he worked day and night to put into action.
Behind him sat a council of naive men, none strong or willing enough to confront their king on m… [view original content]
The Voting is Closed! And so Alexandros will say that decision belongs to Hyrkoon. Certainly a wise decision, especially as the Hand of the King, but perhaps not the answer that Dalton would like to hear. At any rate, we will see where this goes in the future.
I must apologise for my absence over the last week, I have been quite busy, and will remain so for at least another two weeks. Work has unfortunately caught up with me, and my spare time is very limited, so I must apologise that I won't be able to get much writing done until October. I should have a couple of weeks to get back into it then. I'm sorry for not informing you guys sooner about this matter, I've also had troubles accessing the site with this new issue involving the telltale not being accessible on Chrome, or at least that appears to be the case on my device Once again, my sincerest apologies for not informing you sooner on this matter, I hope to get back into it really soon
Alexandros
The wind howled through the Bone and Ice Mountains, tunnelling down the Stone Road and breezing through Samyriana with a mild … moretemperature that could be deemed pleasant on the face. The people of the capital attending their business in the streets far below as Alexandros stared down to them, his hands resting on the stone railings of the small balcony that was open to the council quarters. He briefly turned his gaze back to the round stone table where twelve stone chairs stood, nine of them occupied. Late again, Alexandros thought as a frown touched his face, and he turned back to look over his city. His city, a term not to be used lightly, nor in the company of others. These words the thoughts that stormed through his mind, the sinful and cursing, yet alluring and ambitious thoughts that he worked day and night to put into action.
Behind him sat a council of naive men, none strong or willing enough to confront their king on m… [view original content]
The Voting is Closed! And so Alexandros will say that decision belongs to Hyrkoon. Certainly a wise decision, especially as the Hand of the … moreKing, but perhaps not the answer that Dalton would like to hear. At any rate, we will see where this goes in the future.
I must apologise for my absence over the last week, I have been quite busy, and will remain so for at least another two weeks. Work has unfortunately caught up with me, and my spare time is very limited, so I must apologise that I won't be able to get much writing done until October. I should have a couple of weeks to get back into it then. I'm sorry for not informing you guys sooner about this matter, I've also had troubles accessing the site with this new issue involving the telltale not being accessible on Chrome, or at least that appears to be the case on my device Once again, my sincerest apologies for not informing you sooner on this matter, I hope to get back into it really soon
The Voting is Closed! And so Alexandros will say that decision belongs to Hyrkoon. Certainly a wise decision, especially as the Hand of the … moreKing, but perhaps not the answer that Dalton would like to hear. At any rate, we will see where this goes in the future.
I must apologise for my absence over the last week, I have been quite busy, and will remain so for at least another two weeks. Work has unfortunately caught up with me, and my spare time is very limited, so I must apologise that I won't be able to get much writing done until October. I should have a couple of weeks to get back into it then. I'm sorry for not informing you guys sooner about this matter, I've also had troubles accessing the site with this new issue involving the telltale not being accessible on Chrome, or at least that appears to be the case on my device Once again, my sincerest apologies for not informing you sooner on this matter, I hope to get back into it really soon
Man, the story is very interesting, and I can't wait to see the Five Forts, as well as the Lizard Men.
Just for the record, Ghiscari's outfits are probably different from what we see in ASOIAF, since its heavily implied those ridiculous outfits and hairdos are only interpretations and probably exaggerations of the original things. And it is mentioned that while Ghiscari had slavery, they were perfectly capable of assembling armies of free men. And if we do see a Ghiscari army, they will look similar to an Unsullied army, only with balls.
A small suggestion, don't use words that probably don't exist yet in this world, such as misogynist, quarantine and vaccine.
The Voting is Closed! And so Alexandros will say that decision belongs to Hyrkoon. Certainly a wise decision, especially as the Hand of the … moreKing, but perhaps not the answer that Dalton would like to hear. At any rate, we will see where this goes in the future.
I must apologise for my absence over the last week, I have been quite busy, and will remain so for at least another two weeks. Work has unfortunately caught up with me, and my spare time is very limited, so I must apologise that I won't be able to get much writing done until October. I should have a couple of weeks to get back into it then. I'm sorry for not informing you guys sooner about this matter, I've also had troubles accessing the site with this new issue involving the telltale not being accessible on Chrome, or at least that appears to be the case on my device Once again, my sincerest apologies for not informing you sooner on this matter, I hope to get back into it really soon
Man, the story is very interesting, and I can't wait to see the Five Forts, as well as the Lizard Men.
Just for the record, Ghiscari's outf… moreits are probably different from what we see in ASOIAF, since its heavily implied those ridiculous outfits and hairdos are only interpretations and probably exaggerations of the original things. And it is mentioned that while Ghiscari had slavery, they were perfectly capable of assembling armies of free men. And if we do see a Ghiscari army, they will look similar to an Unsullied army, only with balls.
A small suggestion, don't use words that probably don't exist yet in this world, such as misogynist, quarantine and vaccine.
I have spoken to Nitric recently and he has informed me that he is currently very busy. He wants to continue the story, but needs a few more weeks until he can even think about regularly posting again. But he definitely hasn't abandoned the story, don't be afraid there
Comments
And the voting is closed! Ria will agree to help Jalhar.
The next part is ready, and it introduces a new foreign PoV from the Empire of Ghis. Hope you enjoy.
Kaliza
Light flooded into her eyes as she forced them open, her gaze weak and exhausted, her bones stiff and cramped. Her legs were tucked up to her chest, her back forced against the small wooden planks that confined her to this cell, and in her hands she clutched the golden locket that once belonged to her sister. She brought it to the light that shone through the creaks, staring at the engravings. She ran her thumb smoothly over the surface, a gutting feeling pressing at her chest as memories of her sister flooded back into her thoughts, memories of her family.
Outside of the crate she could hear the murmuring voices of men, oblivious to their existence within these cells, carrying out their daily activities as crewmen on a merchant vessel. It was her brother’s grand idea to have them both stowed away in small shipping crates amongst a trading vessel exiting Qarth, and they had lived in these confined ‘quarters’ for nearly two weeks, living off whatever the generous quartermaster would spare them when he checked over the merchandise. Still, Kali couldn’t blame her brother for the state of life they were in, that blame fell onto the greedy houses of Meereen that destroyed her house and massacred her family. All but two, she thought grimly, clutching her dark amber toned hand around the golden locket.
Kali struggled to move herself so that she could see through the creaks of her container, one being partly wider with a decayed hole just large enough to fit small fruits through; which greeted her with a white blinding light that slowly adjusted as she glanced around her slim surroundings. She saw only the wooden balustrades of the ship, being conveniently placed at the edge of the crates, she was fortunate to see the blue sky. Her brother remained in a crate elsewhere, or so she was told, but it was certain he was out of eardrop; though she never brought her voice much higher than a soft murmur.
She stared aimlessly at the blue sky, counting the rare clouds that floated past as the ship gently sailed along the waters. A frown touched her face as she found herself thinking of the ocean, how she had not seen the sea for so long, she had not seen much beauty since before the collapse of her family. Now as she stared, the natural light dimmed as a shadow loomed over her, darkening the crate. She pulled away from the slit, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness and awaiting for whatever meal would be gifted to her. As her eyes finally adjusted, she was met with the intimidating stench of something else right before her nose.
“What the fuck is this?” Kali winced, examining the long shaft that intruded her confined space. She quickly realised what she was met with; a pink head, an erected shaft and the wiry black hairs that plugged the hole from where it entered, and a raspy voice spoke over her. “You want to eat, bitch? You’ll do what I fucking say.” Kali gulped as she noticed that the man’s voice was not that of the quartermaster. “Suck my cock, whore, or I’ll bring my buddies with me when I visit you next,” he growled, pushing his manhood further into the hole, poking against her cheek.
“No,” she spat in retaliation, pushing the vile thing off her face. She suddenly felt a thwack on both sides of the crate, and the man’s lips drew closer to the crate. “Suck my dick or I’ll cut your brother’s throat and feed you his balls,” he warned, making Kali widen her eyes in shock initially, but her gaze turned cold shortly after, and reluctantly she grasped his manhood, securing a tight hold which pumped out some pre-ejaculation onto her cheek.
“Oh yes, bitch, that’s the way,” he mumbled in satisfaction, to which Kali smirked, the head of his penis pushing past her lips. “Fuck yeah,” he blurted, pushing his cock into her mouth. Kali tightened her hold, her eyes lifted to where she pictured the man’s face to be, and she clamped down. Instantly she felt a new ambition arise from her action: pull instead of push, groan in agony instead of pleasure, but that didn’t stop her. As he slapped at the side of the box for mercy, she bit harder, and the taste of warm blood flooded her mouth. Finally, the man’s groans erupted into screams, and in an attempt to free himself he brought the crate tumbling over.
The lid of her wooden home jarred open, which Kali freed with the kick of her foot, to which she then liberated herself from the small cell, her legs giving way beneath her as she tried to stand. Her arm covered her eyes as the light blinded her once again, but in her peripherals she spotted the tanned muscular sailor struggling in a pool of his own blood, screaming out of fear and agony. Weakly, Kali stumbled towards him and launched her foot into his jaw, and again at his chest, and again and again. She spat on him and stomped on his manhood, spraying blood onto his white shirt and making him wince in pain.
“Enough!” a raspy voiced grumbled, forcing Kali to turn to his bitter old gaze. His eyes were as black as the night, and his wiry hair slicked back, his oiled moustache predominant on his upper lip. Kreqnir Ahzi was the older brother of the eunuch of the Great Empire of the Dawn, the one her brother had talked about prior to their arrival in Qarth. She had never known eunuchs for much more than slave guards, but if Kreqnir’s brother was half the man he was, Kali was sure she’d enjoy his company.
A look of concern touched his black eyes, one which made Kali crumble under his gaze, forcing her to look away. Yet as her eyes desperately searched for another to lay her cursed gaze on, she found something much better, someone much better. “Driz,” Kali uttered in almost disbelief, tears welling up in her eyes. Without another word the two found each other’s embracement, something that was well overdue, and a part of her tore up when Driznor pulled away from her. “Hello, Sister,” he mumbled gently, giving her a small smile. Kali reciprocated it, but it was only now that she tasted the blood in her mouth, staining her teeth and seeping down her throat. She turned her gaze back to the offender, a Qartheen of a large stature, yet a man so small within his pool of blood and tears.
“Did he hurt you?” Kreqnir queried, his voice low and formidable, yet oddly the most accepted of every man here, other than her brother of course. Kali shook her head, staring at the squirming man with scorning eyes. “Not as much as I hurt him,” she muttered, her fists clenched with ire, but the soft touch of her brother slowly relaxed her. Kreqnir nodded, slowly walking to the pleading crewman with a pitiless gaze on his stern eyes. “Good.” Without a moment of hesitation, Kreqnir lifted the man up with ease and shoved him overboard; a thundering splash followed the crewman’s disappearance.
Kreqnir turned his gaze back to Kali, his black eyes calm and emotionless. “Welcome to the Great Dawn Empire,” he muttered grimly, passing her without another word and clearing the crowd that gathered around them. Kali and Driz stumbled their way across to the balustrade, their gaze staring out beyond the wide river that flowed into a large inland sea, and at its edge was the capital of the Great Empire: Tiqui.
-
The merchant vessel had docked at the great harbour of Tiqui, one that stretched for miles along the coast, bordering the western side of the great and powerful city. Kali and Driz had been some of the first to disembark as soon as they had tied onto the wharf, eager to drop their sea legs for the love of land again, yet somewhat hesitant to roam too far from the life they had endured to live over the past two weeks. They found themselves browsing the merchant stalls along the edge of the port, awaiting for Kreqnir’s cargo, as well as their own, to be unloaded.
“We’re here,” Driznor sighed quietly in relief, observing the merchandise presented on the wooden table of one of the stalls. Kali nodded, but there was still a heavy feeling of discomfort here, as if they were being watched. They had been on the run for a year now, and one might almost expect that prying eyes would be accustomed for fugitives of the Empire, but this time it was different. In the Empire of Ghis, they ran the constant risk of discovery, being constant fugitives hiding in towns and cities for as long as they could. Yet they were Ghiscari, and as they changed, they began to camouflage into their natural surroundings. Now, they were foreign, surrounded in a land that made them so apparent that Kali felt in more danger than they were before, even if the threat of the Ghiscari Empire was leagues away.
“We are,” she muttered in response, making Driz raise an eyebrow to her apparent distaste of their arrival. “What’s the matter?” he asked, a touch of concern mixed in with his worried tone. Kali shook her head, shrugging her shoulders as she moved on to another stall. “Where will we go now, Driz? We’re in a city that we only know the name of, and nothing else. We don’t know what it’s like here, and we sure as hell can’t blend in like locals. The last I heard, the YiTish hate the Ghiscari. I didn’t bring us this far just to meet the sword of a YiTish racist,” Kali exclaimed, crossing her arms and staring at the contents on the merchant’s desk hopelessly.
Driznor sighed, placing a hand on Kaliza’s shoulder and looking at her with his optimistic amber eyes. “We haven’t come this far just to die, little sister, and despite being this far east, we do still have allies within reach. Kreqnir has promised to find his brother, who he assures will take us in to his home, and then I guess we’ll play things on from there,” Driz stated with a hopeful tone, but Kali just rolled her eyes, shrugging his hand off her shoulder. “The moment we settle down for too long is the moment death catches up with us, and we do not know what this eunuch brother of Krenqir’s is like,” Kali argued, making her brother frown.
“Kali, look at me,” he begged her, and reluctantly, she turned her gaze to meet her brother’s light amber eyes. There was without a doubt that Driznor was one of the handsomest Ghiscari men she knew, especially since being on the run, he had shed weight with their constant movement. His dark amber skin was toned and defined under his wound YiTish gown, something Kali thought he looked hideous in, but she stayed her tongue. However it was his auburn hair was that truly lacked the glory it once maintained, once flowing long and shaped into many elaborate and complicated styles, now it was short and scruffy, a result of their requirement to blend in.
“A border of mountains and seas separates us from Ghis now, we cannot keep fearing what may still come for us from the west. Right now we need to focus on securing ourselves here, and only then may we be able to one day turn our eyes back to Meereen and the Empire for our revenge,” he assured her, to which she sighed. “The Revenge of Rakhan,” she remarked coldly, a deep lust for the justice of her house was something that indeed fuelled her, but not to the extent of her brother. Kali was just more concerned about her and her brother staying alive.
Driznor gave her a nod, a small smile touching his lips as he caressed her arm. “Now, I’m going to go and relieve myself at the brothel, don’t brood too long, Sister,” he teased, tucking at his gown and taking his leave, making Kali roll her eyes. She turned her gaze around her, searching for something she could do to pass the time. Her eyes landed on something which she presumed to be a saloon, which if it was the case, she could certainly do with a drink to take her mind off things. However she worried about distancing too far from the ship, and from her brother as well, perhaps it was best for her if she remained close to them.
[Go to the saloon] [Remain at the stalls]
will be waiting
Oh oh what a brutal part!!poor kaliza
[Remain at the stalls] she better be close with her brother. Or else
[Go to the saloon]
Whoa, that was quite an introduction! I really enjoy this PoV already, so let's make her go and meet some new faces in the saloon.
[Remain at the stalls]
Great chapter man,I must say that the start was glorious.The safest thing for Kaliza would be stay closer to her brother but if they were fugitives before in Ghis,I doubt their luck will be much better on Tiqui.They should have gone to Lhazar a peaceful place with lots of sheep.
It appears all spins around our dear eunuch which,we need a Littlefinger to keep the combat
[Go to the saloon]
Maybe, she can make some friends in the city.
Hm, onwards to characters I never thought I'd see again
Though they got a flashy new name and quite a couple other upgrades, I recognize and appreciate them and I am very happy with this development. And well, Kali, she has been great here. Biting some bastards dick off, that was glorious. Way to start a PoV, I have truly tremendous excitement for the storyline to come, as little as I know about it 
[Remain at the stalls]
So, I would like to play it safe right at the beginning, by not having her stray too much for the time being. There will be time to make new friends later on, quite soon hopefully, but for the time being, a stranger in an even stranger land, she should try not to be separated from the few people she can still trust.
Alright, the voting is closed! Kaliza will remain at the stalls. Gosh, I have to say this was one of the most interesting character introductions I've ever done. Sometimes I wonder whether I'm writing a GoT fan fiction or gory smut, I guess it's the same thing?
Anyway, the next part is ready, and it goes to a new PoV (the next few parts will be introducing new PoV's, just a heads up), which will bring a second perspective to Asshai. This character's name is Elda, an Andal sellsword currently travelling with the Stormcrows. Hope you guys enjoy.
Elda
The looming darkness of the city of Asshai cast its shadows over the Jade Sea as the Stormcrows made their approach to the legendary city of the East. Elda stood beside the helm, her left hand resting on the hilt of her broadsword while the other was positioned on the railing that guarded those from tripping to the lower deck. Beside her, on the helm, stood the captain of the vessel, a ‘sellsail’ as she proclaimed herself: Vellera Essaar. They had met the Valyrian girl during their time in Astapor, and after a settled price, she had agreed to take the company of the Stormcrows to the Shadowlands.
“I fucking hate this place,” she muttered aloud, making Elda raise an eyebrow as she heard it. She side-glanced the girl, who stood a little taller than herself. She had a slim build, but there was certainly some definition to the muscles she openly displayed on her arms, where the rest of her body was dressed in blue leather and chainmail. Vellera was certainly beautiful however, certainly compared to the rest of the Valyrian sheep-fuckers that Elda had met. Her smooth skin was lightly tanned, and her oval shaped face favoured the most beautiful almond-shaped eyes that Elda had seen; amber in colour. She had a small button nose and vibrant full lips, and her honey blonde hair was tied back into a loose bun.
“You’re not planning to back out on us, sheep-girl?” Elda taunted, a smirk touching her lips as she received a spiteful scowl from the Valyrian sellsail. “Not bloody likely, your boss promised me my weight in gold, but that won’t count for much if my flesh is crawling with Greyscale,” she exclaimed with some concern in her tone, something which Elda could only nod in response to. “I wonder how the Brindled folk fair to Greyscale,” Vellera added, playfully punching Elda in the arm, which made her roll her eyes.
“How many times must I tell you? I am not a Sothoryi, I’m an Andal,” Elda corrected her bitterly, making Vellera smirk. “You are as much as Sothoryi as I am a sheep-girl,” Vellera challenged with a fun tone, making Elda smile weakly. “Ah, but you are a sheep-girl,” she jested, making the Valyrian sigh in defeat. “I’ve met many Andal’s in my time as a sellsail, and never have they looked as you have: dark skin, dark eyes, tightly braided black hair. If that’s not Sothoryi blood than what is it?” she asked, her curiosity seemed genuine, so Elda gave her a genuine answer.
“My parents were pirates from the Basilisk Isles before they settled in Andalos as smallfolk,” Elda revealed to her bluntly, making Vellera raise an eyebrow. “Seems like quite the life to drop in return for peasantry,” Vellera marvelled, but Elda just shrugged her shoulders, staring at the dark city of Asshai ahead. “They wanted a normal life for their daughter,” she mumbled hopelessly, and in part distracted. “And yet the daughter became like the parents, a fighter,” Vellera chuckled, turning her gaze ahead. Elda dryly nodded, “she did,” she muttered nonchalantly.
“So you’ve been working with him ever since?” Vellera asked in conclusion, nodding to the leader of the Stormcrows: Erin Erenford, who stood at the bow of the vessel with his second-in-command: Corysu, a hooded man. And for good reason, she thought relieved, but she shook her head in answer to Vellera’s question. “No, I only came into the Stormcrow’s quite recently,” she stated, making Vellera raise an eyebrow. “Oh? You seem to have done well for yourself,” the Valyrian complimented, to which Elda shrugged, her thoughts drifting back to her time before joining the Stormcrows. “I guess,” Elda muttered in reply, making Vellera roll her eyes.
Before Vellera could continue, they were greeted by the charming sellsword who had recently joined amongst their ranks, only a few months after Elda. Jaeron Galiar was his name, and he was certainly easy on the eyes, and just a couple of years younger than Elda, being in his late twenties. He had a square face and a sharp jawline, his chin was quite prominent and his cheekbones were high, the right side of his face was scarred from brow to jaw. His eyes were a light green and his hair a chocolate brown that fell past his shoulders, he ran a hand through his groomed beard, a smirk on his lips.
“Finally here, ladies?” he asked, but the question was rhetorical and the answer blatantly obvious given their surroundings. “So it would appear,” Elda muttered dryly in return, making the Andal grin to her sour mood. “Bleeding out the cunt again, Elda?” he taunted her, awaiting for her typical reaction; she wondered how many times he could expect her to drop his arse to the floor. Regardless, despite the heavy temptation, Elda decided against it, simply rolling her eyes and passing him with a solid shoulder bump. “Clamp your tongue, Galiar, or I’ll cut it out,” she warned him with a warm tone, something he took lightly to.
Elda descended the steps down to the lower deck, her eyes found it a struggle to identify all the figures roaming around with this added darkness of the Shadow Mountains. She knew that both Erin Erenford and Corysu stood at the bow of the ship, their statue stance and quiet whispers were more daunting than the setting they found themselves in. The edge of the world, Elda thought, though she wasn’t sure whether the thought enthralled her or worried her. She had heard much of Asshai and the Shadowlands, and frankly, none of it intrigued her as a place to one day visit. Yet here I am, she thought to herself out of concern, and quickly glanced around for a familiar set of faces to take her mind off her worries.
Past the shadow faced crew she spotted three members of the Stormcrows by the port side of the ship, a destination she made a beeline to. The three faces turned to greet her with a different set of expressions: a solemn emotionless glare, a gleeful ecstatic grin and a sickened and unenthusiastic glance before returning to the side of the ship. Elda gave the two remaining eyes a nod, who reciprocated her gesture. “Little mouse,” the first of the faces greeted, a tall broad man from Sothoryos, a true Brindled Man who went by the name of Nkos. Elda enjoyed his stern company for the most part, she could always find time to think when she was around him, but he lacked enough of the Common Tongue to communicate proficiently.
The second face, gleeful and somewhat scary was that of Gilma the Bearded, an Ibbish woman who had a love for the sea, and her mad sea blue eyes certainly showed it. She was certainly one of the shortest of the Stormcrows, barely touching five feet in height, but she was not to be underestimated, as she truly showed her striking potential with her harpoon. The final member was the most recent addition to the Stormcrows: Sarlzo, a Lhazareen noble-come-sellsword who had been a commander in the extinct sellsword company: the Waterborn, before joining the Stormcrows. As a Lhazareen, he was one of the most inexperienced on the sea, not having the stomach for it like the rest, and he proved that on cue by barfing over the side.
“Good to see we are all well,” Elda mumbled sarcastically, a tone which flew over the head of Gilma, who jumped in excitement. “Isn’t it exciting? Asshai, the city on the edge of the world! Never did I think I’d be so lucky,” she gleamed, turning her gaze to the dimly lit city of shadows, something which Nkos grunted to, muttering a word in his own tongue which Elda recognised. Haunted. Elda sighed awkwardly, partly in agreeance with the Brindled Man, but turned her attention to Sarlzo. “We’re nearly there, shepherd,” she assured him, to which he shared an appreciative glance before returning over the side to spew out more bile.
Elda frowned, crossing her arms and taking her side by the members as they stared at the city. “Black rock,” Nkos uttered, pointing towards the city with his ivory tipped spear, a look of concern on his black eyes. Sarlzo lifted his head long enough to spit out a few words before dropping his head. “Why the fuck are we coming to Asshai?” Elda shrugged her shoulders, caressing her arms worriedly, but Gilma joyously shat on his sour mood. “Such a downer, aren’t ya? Where’s ya sense of adventure?” she spat, slapping him on the shoulder, but Sarlzo just rolled his eyes, staring into the blackness of the water.
“Rock flesh,” Nkos muttered, something which Elda raised an eyebrow at. “Rock flesh?” she repeated, to which the large man nodded, lifting Sarlzo onto his feet with ease and pointing to his face, where the scars of greyscale remained from the Lhazarene’s childhood. Sarlzo took hold of Nkos’ arm weakly in an attempt of retaliation, but his attempt failed him, and he fell loose to the mercy of the Brindled Man, who gently placed him down again. Nkos turned his gaze back to the city while Elda knelt down to inspect Sarlzo, a weak look on his grass green eyes. He might have once been described as a pretty fellow in his youth, but the greyscale had taken that beauty and left him scarred with skin as hard as stone, something he had managed to overcome when so many people fell to it.
Elda ran a hand through his short cropped black hair, a frown on her face as she studied his frail stature. The skin of the Lhazareen was naturally of a copper or olive colour, but Sarlzo had recently gone a pale green with his sea sickness, something he had endured for weeks with no rest, the dark bags under his eyes showing the extent of his exhaustion. “We’ll be on land soon, Sarl,” she assured him, which he could only give a weak nod of relief to. Elda rested his head against the balustrade, patting his shoulder before rising. Gilma smirked, pitilessly rolling her eyes at the Lhazarene. “He’s barely bad, you should see the Dothraki below. As crook as a dog that one,” Gilma chuckled, making Elda scowl at her. She hated how the bearded woman saw everything as a game, and was such a sociopath to the feelings of others.
“His name is Vorro,” Elda muttered, but Gilma either didn’t care or didn’t hear her, either way, Elda was in part glad that the midget she-man had nothing to say. “Lady Elda,” a soft but intimidating voice startled her from behind, making her gasp in panic as she spun around to meet the malicious golden glowing eyes of Corysu staring at her from the darkness of his dark hood, something he removed as he bowed to her, revealing his light green skin. “I did not mean to startle you,” he uttered in a freakishly toneless voice that sent shivers down Elda’s spine, but she maintained her calm, regaining her composure.
“It’s alright, Corysu,” she lied, avoiding eye contact with the Thousand Islander, her gaze focused on the black pendant on his right ear, a rune of a sort with an engraving carved in a tongue that Elda did not recognise. “It means home,” Corysu explained, seeming to know exactly what her thoughts were, something which somewhat bothered her. She turned her gaze away, expressing her disinterest in his culture, which he seemed to be completely understanding of, another thing which sincerely irritated her. “The Mad Heron wishes to speak with you,” he stated with a calm and nonchalant tone, something which made the hairs on the back of her neck stand, but her eyebrow raised to the news he sent.
“What does he want?” she asked, but as she turned to Corysu, she only met the back of his cloak as he silently crept away, making her roll her eyes in frustration. Fucking creep, she thought with some relief as she watched him disappear down into the hull of the ship, yet she pitied those who would encounter him below. “Scary bastard ain’t he?” Gilma piped up from behind her, and for once Elda found herself in agreeance with the Bearded woman. “Go on, you’d best not keep the Mad Heron waiting. The brute and I will take this sorry excuse of a fighter down to his bunk to get him cleaned up,” Gilma informed her, to which Elda nodded, and Nkos picked Sarlzo off the floor.
“But I want to go on land,” he argued, weakly hitting at Nkos’ arm. Gilma sighed, “You’re filthy, and ye ain’t even got any boots on. Come on lad!” she hustled, and the three disappeared down into the hull, leaving Elda to face the Mad Heron, who stood alone at the bow of the ship, a stern look on his impatient eyes. Elda gulped, taking a couple of slow steps after one another, until she finally found herself before the man. Erin Erenford, he was one of the smaller men she had met, standing only a few inches taller than herself, but his mean demeanour made him a much more intimidating man than what height or bulk could give. He was a slim man, with a facial expression that could only be described as hard and ambiguous, His wore a light red beard with his fiery short hair.
“Elda,” he greeted with a rash and apathetic tone, something which Elda had just grown accustomed to over the months. “Erin,” she spat back, making a cold grin touch his lips, and the two grasped each other’s forearms in greeting. “The freak said you wanted to see me,” Elda muttered, to which Erin nodded, separating from their embracement. “I do,” he acknowledged, and Elda crossed her arms, waiting impatiently for his explanation. “You must be wondering why we’ve sailed this Far East,” Erin stated, to which Elda shrugged. “The thought crossed my mind,” she admitted, making him nod.
“I’ve come looking for answers, and there is a contract here in Asshai which may be able to pay me these answers in reward for our service,” Erin stated in a tone which Elda recognised to be hopeful, something uncharacteristic for the Mad Heron. “You hope?” she emphasised, making the man frown as he crossed his arms. “If she does not supply the information I want then I’ll kill her,” Erin assured her, to which Elda sighed and nodded. “It must be some important information,” Elda stated in an attempt to dig some answers out of him. Erin nodded, leaning against the balustrade and looking to the dark city of Asshai.
“It is,” he mumbled quietly to himself, and when he noticed Elda staring at him impatiently he clarified. “My lover, Tariqa… She was assassinated, and a seal of the Dawn Empire, her home, was pinned to her bare breasts when I found her. I want to know who did this, I want my revenge,” Erin grumbled, clenching his fists as he stared at the black city. “And this woman claims she has the answers, but being an Asshai’i, she won’t give away this information for free,” Erin spat with some frustration, making Elda sigh. “So where do I come into this,” she asked reluctantly, and Erin looked at her as if she would’ve never asked.
“I am to meet her with one of my commanders at an abandoned warehouse located near the old docks of Asshai, but I cannot be sure if her intentions remain true, so I need another to meet with a local going by the name of Vyrano Nearthe while I negotiate terms with this contract of ours,” Erin stated, to which Elda raised an eyebrow. “And who is this Vyrano Nearthe?” she asked, to which Erin sighed. “He’s an assassin, and a follower of the Red God. One of Corysu’s associates,” Erin explained, and Elda rolled her eyes. “Of course he is,” she muttered, but Erin overlooked her spite for the green-skinned freak.
“I am at a dilemma with a decision however, as I know that Corysu would be beneficial for me to have at the negotiations, but I am unsure on how our contract would take his foreign presence,” Erin sighed, “yet I am reminded that you were a sub-commander of the Old Thieves, which in this situation may prove better than two assassins in search for something that needs to be stolen, and I do not wish to start a war during our time here, but this alliance means more to me than anything else,” Erin stated, a frown settling over his hard face. “So I want to know, where can you serve me best? As a thief or a diplomat?”
[Diplomat] [Thief]
[Diplomat]
Ohh. Elda
I just loved it And yes the alliance is more than anything else
[Diplomat]
[Thief]
[Thief]
I won't close the vote just yet, but I do have another part ready, which goes to another new PoV: Crokus. He too is a sellsword, a commander of the renowned Company of the Cat, who are currently in service to King Hyrkoon.
Crokus
A light wind breezed through the divides of ice and bone, battering against the heavy loaded carts that wheeled along the treacherous Stone Road, one of the three chief trade routes of the Kingdom of Hyrkoon, and the road that led to the capital: Samyriana. Daily, no matter the weather, merchant caravans, emissaries and explorers would travel along the Stone Road, pay their toll at Samyriana and then go their own ways. Those who tried to evade the toll would acquire a debt more grim and demanding than that of a few silver coins.
Crokus followed the dusty trail through the Bone Mountains, leaving the sight of Samyriana and entering one of the many sand vales of the Skull Peaks. Accompanying him was Sygirr Dargur, the final Waterborn after the Feast of Skane, and a Commander of the Company of the Cat, just like Crokus. Harridan Pyke too was a Commander of the Company of the Cat, and arguably the most strange of them all. With them were two other members of the company: Darren Spyre, a Northman from Westeros, and the young Leobald Graves.
“Why the fuck has Dunn got us scouring the mountains for one missing stowaway,” Harridan spat in complaint, pulling himself up the mountain with a defiant ferocity in his movement. Crokus rolled his eye, following after him with a heating temper. “Do you ever stop whining?” Crokus muttered, standing himself upright as they reached a flatland on the path, only to be grabbed by the scruff of his collar and pinned against the wall, forced to stare into Harridan’s cloudy eyes, ireful and bitter.
“I’m not fucking whining,” he spat, to which Crokus just lifted his hands up in submission, not wishing to start a fight amongst his comrades. Leobald was the next to follow them up, a grin on his face. “I don’t know about that, Pyke, your lips are moving and all I can hear is complaining. That sounds an awful lot like whining to me,” he quipped, brushing his pants of the dust and merely dodging Harrigan’s angered fist past his cheek. Crokus caught the Ironborn by the wrist before he could throw another.
“Little brat,” Harrigan muttered, freeing himself from Crokus’ grip. Darren and Sygirr brought up the rear, taking a break on the bit of flat which now led into a narrow pathway, barely wide enough for a wagon to pull through, but the tracks argued otherwise. “Must be important,” Darren mumbled, reclaiming his breath as he leant against the sandy wall. “To send all of his commanders on such a mission,” he finished, taking in a deep breath of air.
“Aethon still remains at Samyriana,” Sygirr muttered, shoulder bumping Darren as he passed him, and pushing through to the front of the crowd when Harridan stood with a scowl over his harsh face. He lowered his gaze to the tracks, kneeling down and studying them closer before unsheathing his steel longsword: Sentence. “We’re close,” he announced, to which Crokus nodded, unsheathing his own exotic YiTish longsword. The others followed his example, preparing themselves.
“Quite a fucking effort this merchant has gone to in order to avoid a toll,” Darren spat, wiping his brow before following the moving crowd. “It’s not that,” Sygirr muttered, frustration thick in his tone. “What then?” Leobald piped up, his youthful curiosity getting the better of him. Sygirr sighed, stopping a moment to inspect the tracks again. “This ‘merchant’ abducted Hyrkoon’s wife, and fled into the mountains last night. Dunn’s tasked us with bringing her back,” the Skanish explained, making Leobald tune a drawn out whistle.
“The queen of the kingdom has been abducted and they send us? In the North, if a queen was kidnapped then all of the king’s soldiers and bannermen would be in pursuit, not just some fucking sellswords,” Darren exclaimed, making Sygirr churn a deep growl. “In the North, you fuckers side with savages to murder mere farmers and peasants from a distance island. In the North, men are more interested in supping in their keep than helping those who starve on their streets. In the North…” Sygirr spat, but he was halted when Crokus placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him back from meeting face-to-face with Darren Spyre.
“That’s not me,” Darren muttered, turning his gaze away from the Waterborn, who only returned back to the front of the pack. “So if I was a whoreson abductor, where would I take the most valuable jewel of all the Kingdom?” Harridan wondered aloud, making Crokus roll his eye. “You are a whoreson abductor,” he corrected, to which the Ironborn chuckled and nodded. “Aye, and you are the thief, so I’d say you have the most insight here,” Harridan wagered, punching Crokus on the arm. “The mountains,” Crokus answered bluntly, making Harridan grumble coldly. “Of course you would,” he muttered, pushing ahead of him.
“My question was never answered,” Darren stated, now being the man to bring up the rear. Crokus sighed, twirling his exotic blade between his fingers. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe no one gives a shit?” Crokus challenged him, but Darren didn’t take a bite of it. “Why us?” he persisted, making Crokus groan in frustration. “Because we’re expendable, frost skull. Sending Hyrkoon’s army through the Bone Mountains would result in more casualties than what he can spare, and we’ll be going deep into Dothraki territory if we continue down this path,” Crokus explained, making Darren raise an eyebrow.
“Dothraki?” he asked, but Crokus was unsure whether he was in disbelief or just unaware of the name, either way, Sygirr put an end to their dull conversation with a raise of his open hand. “Crokus, get up here,” he ordered, making Crokus raise an eyebrow. He’s in no position to order me around, he thought bitterly, but he could hear something was off in the Skanish’s tone. He pushed past Harridan and Leobald before joining Sygirr side, where he stopped Crokus from moving any further, nodding to the distance. “That’s the cart,” Sygirr pointed, and when Crokus’ eyes adjusted to the dark path, he spotted the old wooden cart of pelts and grains leaked onto the ground, and a corpse among it. “What should we do?” he asked, his voice as soft as the hushing wind. Crokus frowned.
“We didn’t come this far to get turned around by one corpse, we check it out and keep moving. We have a job to do,” Crokus stated, and Sygirr nodded. Silent and cautious, the Company of the Cat prowled towards the scene, their wits about them as they watched for a trap. When they were finally upon the cart and its slain corpse, the only signs of movement were the dead shrubbery that shadowed over the narrow ravine they found themselves in. Crokus turned to Leobald, signalling for him to search the wagon, before turning to Sygirr, who examined the corpse.
A deep gash resided across his throat, cutting through his windpipe and gushing fresh blood which Sygirr brought to his lips. “This happened recently,” Sygirr muttered, and Crokus nodded, readjusting his grip around his sword. He flicked his gaze to Leobald, who lifted his head from the other side of the cart. “No queen, but there’s tracks,” Leobald stated, and both Harridan and Crokus climbed over the cart to join the teenager with his findings. “Hoof marks,” Crokus muttered, and Leobald gritted his teeth in angst. “Dothraki?” he mumbled in question, something which Harridan grunted to.
“Who the fuck else?” he muttered, taking a firm grip on his axes, one in each hand. Crokus frowned, his gaze following the single-filed track of hoof prints. “So close to Samyriana, they’d have to be scouts,” Crokus suggested, but Harridan shrugged his shoulders. “They’ll be dead if they come back,” Harridan assured him, running the axe blades across each other. “We’ll be dead if we keep going,” Sygirr stated in confidence as he and Darren climbed over the merchant cart. Crokus sighed, turning his gaze back to the Skanish.
“Then go back, go explain to the King that his wife is now in the hands of the Dothraki,” Crokus muttered, but Sygirr firmly shook his head. “I will not run,” he seethed, running a hand across the flat of his blade. “Then we keep moving,” Crokus grumbled, but Leobald shook his head. “I didn’t come this far east just to have my tongue pulled from my throat by some screaming horse-fuckers,” he spat in defiance, making Crokus glare at him with his one eye. “Then go,” he muttered, slapping the boy on the back of his head. Leobald sent Crokus a firm glare, but Darren hushed them before they could continue to bicker.
“Do you hear that?” he whispered, and each of them fell silent, listening through the silence and past the wind for something out of the ordinary. They listened for a moment that dragged on to ad nauseam, but continued to listen regardless, and then they heard it. A soft snicker in the distance, and the soft tapping of something on stone, slowly growing in volume as it grew nearer to them. The sound identified as hooves on stone, and before long they heard the loud snickering of their steeds. Dothraki, Crokus thought, but his thoughts were heard by the company, whom gathered to form a line in retaliation.
Sweat ran down his brow as he took a firmly gripped the hilt of his blade, posturing himself defensively. He had dismounted men on horseback before, but never crammed side-by-side with five other men, and certainly not in a narrow ravine against those born to the horse. Tension grew thick among them, and they stood for minutes in their prepared stance, angst rushing through their veins until the silence of the mountains returned. Hesitantly, the men broke their formation, glancing at each other with confused eyes, and then it started.
The first arrow landed an inch from Crokus’ foot, the second between Leobald’s legs, and the third made contact with the iron of Harridan’s left axe, flinging it from his hand. “Seven shits!” Harridan exclaimed, and Crokus’ eye widened before Sygirr screamed it. “AMBUSH!” Crokus flickered his gaze frantically for an escape route as arrows darted passed them, and the men around him pushed past each other in panic, until the first of them yelped in pain, an arrow piercing through Darren’s leg. Crokus focused on the cart. “Everyone under the wagon!” he ordered, pushing Leobald forward and taking Darren’s spare arm as Harridan started to drag him. An arrow scathed Crokus’ shoulder as they pulled Darren under, the arrowhead pinning him to the wooden cart, which he quickly broke and joined his comrades.
Arrows rained down in the sand behind and ahead of them, thundering on the wood that shielded them from above. Darren groaned as Sygirr reluctantly attended to his leg, snapping the arrow and patching his leg, still impaled with the broken arrow shaft. “Quit your fucking whinging, Northman,” Sygirr yelled, but his voice was drowned out with the thundering hooves that stormed down the ravine, and Crokus’ eye laid on the long legs of the horses first.
They leaped over the cart effortlessly, snapping the arrows shafts beneath them like twigs on a forest path. Their screaming riders drowned their ears, making their hearts quicken as they spun their steeds for a second run, or so it appeared initially. Crokus watched as more legs appeared, jumping down from their beasts, and their glinting arakhs rubbing against their shins. The five remained dead silent as the legs approached them, stopping only a few feet away. Crokus gulped as he heard the deafening crack of a leather whip, which smashed against the cart and landed before their eyes.
“Havzi jerakasar eyelat lavakh akkate dalfe, ishish havzi jerakasar hakeso okeo lajat,” a male voice spat, followed by a chuckle by his comrades, but the figure with the whip did not partake in his humour. “He says that you make a lot of sound for a company of cats, perhaps you are reputed for your infighting,” the voice translated, and Crokus recognised the voice to belong to either a woman or a little boy. The five remained silent, save for Darren’s groans as Sygirr finished up with bandaging his wound. “The warrior queen said her husband would send you,” she added, making Crokus raise an eyebrow. “I must admit, these cowering pussies are not what I expected from the Company of the Cat,” she taunted, and the five watched the whip lift from the sand.
Crokus gritted his teeth, being the first to crawl out to meet the woman that stood before them. She stood tall, as tall as Crokus, if not a bit taller, dressed in leather hide typical of the Dothraki, an arakh hanging from her belt and a coiled whip in her hands. A tattoo ran up her left hand to her shoulder, and over her right shoulder her black braided hair fell to her forearm. Crokus lifted his gaze to her violet, almond-shaped eyes, her skin tone was tanned and there was a smirk on her full lips. Crokus tried his best to ignore her beauty, keeping on task. “You have the queen?” he asked, fingering the hilt of his blade, but she just chuckled.
“You’re hardly in a position to ask questions,” she stated coldly, taking grip of the hilt of his blade and freeing it from his hands, which to his own surprise, he let her. “The fuck are you doing, Crokus?” Harridan growled, standing from the sand with his axes prepared to swing, but the woman before them sent him a scowl. “She did ask for you alive, but I’m not going out of my way to honour the requests of a royal slut,” she spat, to which Crokus shot a glare at her. “That slut is the wife of King Hyrkoon, our contractor,” Crokus stated in a warning tone, to which the woman’s smirk returned.
“She is, and she’s also the sister of Khal Verro,” she claimed with a challenging tone, but Crokus did not aggress. “And who are you?” Sygirr asked with concern, freeing himself from underneath the cart with Leobald and a distressed Darren. “I am Zhali, lieutenant of Khal Verro,” she announced, to which Crokus grunted. “You know a lot of the Common Tongue,” he observed, to which Zhali nodded. “We’ve had many slaves with much to talk about, and I have listened.” Crokus glared at her, apathetic to her story, “good for you,” he said, faking a smile. “Where’s the queen?” he spat, demanding his answer, but Zhali only smirked, running a hand through Crokus’ greying hair before pouting her lips.
“You’re quite a handsome young man,” she stated seductively, turning her gaze to Leobald, who raised an eyebrow. “Run back to Samyriana and tell your king of Khal Verro’s approach, or I’ll take out your buddy’s other eye,” she threatened, and Leobald shot a quick glance to Crokus, who gave his approval without a second thought. “Good lad,” she smiled, watching as the young man awkwardly walked passed the Dothraki who disarmed him, and then came to disarm the rest. “Now, let me take you to your queen,” she teased, turning back to her comrades and mounting her horse. “Try to keep up.”
No decision.
one like from me
[Diplomat]
Ooh man,to be honest with you this gave me more hype than the whole two seasons of the show together.
Elda,Corysu,Sarlzo And of course Erin I'm so proud of being their creator!
Foreigners don't react well to the Thousand Islanders,despite Corysu being a capable man I think is better to let him act in the shadows for now,The Stormcrows can't risk a hostile situation at this meeting if they want to fullfil Erin's wishes...
Cheerings to you man,you've make this bunch of characters real.
Let me remark Sygirr's quote:"In the North, men are more interested in supping in their keep than helping those who starve on their streets" looking forward for more!
I wonder how Aethon will be...
They use to come together man
That's quite nice surprise to get another part in such short period of time, thank you for that.
Another interesting character introduced, looking forward for more.
Ah, a new PoV and another one I find to hold a lot of potential. Very interesting and great job with Elda and the others here. In particular, I like this colourful cast of side characters. A Brindled Man, an Ibbenese, a Lazharene who suffered from Greyscale and particularly that utterly creepy Thousand Islander fish-man, those are some very fascinating characters and it makes off for a great and engaging start. Can't wait for more from this PoV
[Diplomat]
Hm, both are likely to offer very interesting possibilities for the story, though I must admit, I like the Diplomat choice a little bit more
I am fine with either of them winning, but think I prefer some diplomatic work, that always sounds like something that opens up interesting chances for Elda's storyline.
Hey, I'm just making sure but did you see the latest pm I sent you?
And the voting is closed! Elda will choose to be a diplomat for Erin Erenford, and will accompany him to the meeting. Both of these choices would have led to pretty interesting alternatives, and it really came down to how Elda wants to prove herself to Erin. She is already a credible thief, perhaps she would have been better off with the other option, but there is also without a doubt that Corysu's presence alone could put the potential deal in danger, so Elda will have to make sure she doesn't fuck it up!
Anyway, the newest part is ready, and it follows after Crokus' part, introducing the capital city of the Kingdom of Hyrkoon: Samyriana. This new PoV is Alexandros Karalis, the right hand man of King Markus Hyrkoon, and the rest I will leave for the part to show
Alexandros
The wind howled through the Bone and Ice Mountains, tunnelling down the Stone Road and breezing through Samyriana with a mild temperature that could be deemed pleasant on the face. The people of the capital attending their business in the streets far below as Alexandros stared down to them, his hands resting on the stone railings of the small balcony that was open to the council quarters. He briefly turned his gaze back to the round stone table where twelve stone chairs stood, nine of them occupied. Late again, Alexandros thought as a frown touched his face, and he turned back to look over his city. His city, a term not to be used lightly, nor in the company of others. These words the thoughts that stormed through his mind, the sinful and cursing, yet alluring and ambitious thoughts that he worked day and night to put into action.
Behind him sat a council of naive men, none strong or willing enough to confront their king on matters that he did not approve of, and certainly none fit to sit on his throne. Not even was Markus Hyrkoon worthy of his own throne, a man born to rule, yet was more concerned with waging war on those who would prove as beneficial allies. Alexandros tightened his grip around the stone railings with the thought of it, yet another part of him made his grip release just as readily. Markus was his friend, his closest friend, and that left him in a torn situation. Brother or Kingdom, Alexandros thought grimly, thinking back to the origins of his house.
Alexandros barely noticed the bulky bastard son of Hyrkoon: Aegis Nothos, take his place by Alex’s side, staring out to the treacherous terrain that was their home. “Somewhere out there, Queen Khili is missing by the hands of some whoreson merchant, and he entrusts some cock sucking sellswords to find them. How am I ever going to prove my worth?” he muttered, resting his cheek on his palm as he leant against the railings. A small smile came to Alex’s lips as he turned his gaze to the bastard, easily his favourite of Markus’ two sons.
“Your father loves you, Aegis. He knows your worth, you wouldn’t be a general in his army if he didn’t see you fit for it,” Alex assured him, but Aegis just sighed, staring out to the mountains with longing light blue eyes. “Besides, it’s hard to find someone that doesn’t wish to me found,” Alexandros stated, turning his gaze back to the mountains. This made Aegis raise his eyebrow, but he turned his gaze back to the mountains shortly after.
“How do you mean?” he queried, to which Alexandros sighed. A part of him was left disappointed that the man was more daft than his lesser human brother, but he preferred his company over the half-horse prince. “Khili can handle herself, she wouldn’t have been stolen unless she wanted to be stolen,” Alexandros muttered, crossing his arms as he glared out to the icy peaks. “Markus wastes his time looking for the horse-woman, it’s clear her loyalties like with the savages,” Alexandros seethed, to which Aegis shrugged.
“If he wanted her back he should’ve sent me. My men would have found her within hours, unlike these sellswords. The ‘Company of the Cat,’ lazy fucks,” he muttered, flicking his gaze back to their leader: Dalton Dunn, who sat impatiently at the round table, the council waiting for King Hyrkoon’s arrival. “Markus sent the Company of the Cat because they’re expendable, unlike his sons or army,” he stated, but Aegis still seemed unconvinced. Alexandros placed a hand on the man’s shoulder before returning back into the council chambers, a few of the councilmen turning their gaze to him.
The round table currently sat all but the King and Queen, save for Alexandros and Aegis who had departed their seats. The remaining eight were Prince Hykerus of Hyrkoon, the only legitimate son of King Markus Hyrkoon, but also the most illegitimate in blood; being half savage and half royal. Beside him sat Khristos Laskaris, the treasurer, then Virtus Obilix, the justiciar. Further around the table sat Cleon Kotas, the spymaster, and beside him was Jason Grivas, the shipmaster. Notus Raptis filled up the space between Cleon and Virtus, he was a warlock, and arguably the man that Alexandros trusted the least on this council. The final two seats belonged to Dalton Dunn, the leader of the Company of the Cats and the personal guard of King Markus, as well as Harrys Majeword, the head of the royal guard. Both seemingly doing a terrible job, Alexandros thought dryly as he took his seat.
“We’ve been waiting a good half hour already,” Grivas muttered, an impatient look on his eyes. “Indeed, where is the King?” Virtus asked, a concerned look on his face. Alexandros sighed, clasping his hands as he eyed each of the men around the table. “It would seem he is not coming,” he stated clearly, and the same faces showed their bitter annoyance to this. “As his right hand, I will commence this meeting,” Alexandros muttered dryly, and a few murmurs spread between some of the men, but instantly silenced as Alexandros pierced them down.
“Lord Kotas,” Alexandros started, “what have you heard from the Ghiscari Empire?” Cleon Kotas turned his placid gaze to the Hand. “The Ghiscari Empire wars with the Kingdoms of Sarnor and the Wood Walkers,” Cleon Kotas stated calmly, to which Lord Laskaris spoke up. “They are growing nearer to the Mountains, the Kingdom of the Wood Walkers constantly trade along the Steel Road,” Khristos stated, to which a few murmurs from the council urged their discomfort with that matter.
“The Ghiscari Empire will pose no threat to our Kingdom, gentleman, but we must look to secure our trade routes with Qarth, Lhazar and the Wood Walkers. Khristos, have an emissary travel to Old Ghis to propose an alliance with the Emperor.” Khristos turned a cold eye to Alexandros, a look of suspicion and disapproval on his glare. “His grace would not approve of this decision,” Khristos warned, to which Alexandros halted a moment, turning his gaze to Prince Hykerus, and then back to Khristos.
“When Markus begins to take part in his council meetings, his word will be heard and obeyed, but until then we are the archons of this grand kingdom, and to maintain our strength we must gain allies,” Alexandros argued, but before Khristos could retaliate, Hykerus intervened with disdain thick in his words. “Lord Karalis, your word is respected throughout the kingdom to no avail, and I am sure you have your reasons to see the Ghiscari Empire has beneficial allies to our kingdom, but you are not the king. Here, as a council, we decided over a voting, and the king has the final say. Not you,” Hykerus stated, and the two men locked eyes before Aegis spoke up.
“Our numbers are thin stretched as it is, we risk putting Samyriana or the other cities in danger by increasing the guard along the trading roads,” Aegis stated, and he received a firm nod from Lord Grivas. “Hyrkoon’s military must focus on what is best for the Kingdom, and that is taking the Great Dawn Empire,” Grivas grumbled, making Dalton Dunn roll his eyes. “It’s the fucking Jogos Nhai which requires our attention,” Dalton muttered, crossing his arms as he stared coldly at the centre of the round table. Harrys Majeword shot a glare at him, but the leader of the infamous sellsword company ignored his displeasure.
“They are the greatest risk to us currently,” Aegis acknowledged, to which Alexandros supported him with a nod. “We should be turning our eyes to the savages that would rape our women, murder our children and burn down our homes,” Alexandros stated in agreement, making Hykerus roll his eyes ignorantly. “You spit on all those that you believe are beneath you, Lord Karalis. The Dothraki have been honourable to my father’s terms, you ought to look at finding terms with the Jogos Nhai,” Hykerus stated, and Harrys Majeword showed his agreeance to this with a firm nod.
“The Dothraki have been honourable?” Alexandros challenged, a smirk touching his lips. “Honourable? Really? Tell that to the Qarthi traders who refuse to travel along the Sand Road and trade with Bayasabhad, yet instead trade with Asabhad,” Alexandros growled, to which Hykerus glared at the Hand with distaste. “A city we will take back once we conquer the lands of the ‘Great’ Empire of the Dawn,” Hykerus stated, but before Alexandros could reply, the two were cut off as the main doors to the council chambers flung open and in ran a boy.
His young face was coated with sand, as well as his cheap leather attire. His dark hair was a mess of knots and curls, sand riddled through it, and perhaps the only part of him unstained from his filth were his eyes, a dark grey. He bent down in gasp for air as Dalton Dunn stood from his seat, a dangerous look on his piercing eyes. “Graves,” he muttered in low greeting approaching the boy with heavy footsteps. The young man regained his composure as his boss stood before him.
“Crokus,” he exclaimed, gasping for air, he leant against the muscular bulk of his commander to catch his breath. Dalton raised an eyebrow in concern, but there was a look of impatience on his eyes. “The fuck are you saying, Leobald? What’s happened to Crokus?” Dalton spat, rattling the young man. Leobald looked up to Dalton with worried eyes. “They found us,” Leobald uttered, “the Dothraki. They sent me back, to deliver a message,” he stated, stopping to catch a breath. Alexandros arose from his seat, leaning on his hands against the table as he studied the boy’s eyes.
“What’s the message?” Alexandros asked, his tone soft but concerned. Leobald gulped, turning his gaze up to Dalton, who gave him a firm nod. The young man turned his gaze back to Alexandros, running a hand through his hair. “She said... Khal Verro is coming, he has the Queen, and now Crokus and the others too,” Leobald explained, making Alexandros frown as he shifted his weight back onto his legs, standing tall. Dalton raised an eyebrow, turning his gaze to Leobald.
“Who’s she?” he muttered, and Leobald bit his lip awkwardly. “The woman who ambushed us, Zhali, she threatened to take out Crokus’ other eye if I didn’t run to Samyriana to tell you,” Leobald stated, and Alexandros only turned his gaze to Hykerus to spot his reaction. “Nothing but honourable, eh?” he mocked, making the crown prince avert his bitter gaze. Alexandros let out a sigh, turning his attention back to Dalton and Leobald. “Go and rest, you’ve earned it,” Alexandros ordered, and Leobald gave a nod before exiting the council chambers. The rest of the council turned their gaze to Alexandros, who studied each of them. “This session is concluded. Council dismissed,” Alexandros muttered, and the majority of them nodded, bowed and took their leave.
Dalton Dunn remained after the rest had left, an intimidating look on his eyes. He was an intimidating man by presence alone, towering most men, and Alexandros was included. He wore a large busy brown beard, and a filthy long scar on his face gave him a dangerous appearance, but his deathly were the most concerning. He wore a black earring in one ear and a white earring in the other, his clothes reeked of body odour and death, something he never bothered to change out of or wash. Normally, this kind of company was the kind that Alexandros despised and hated with a passion, yet Dalton had proved himself as an excellent warrior, and Alexandros had come to respect him for his strict behaviour to those who wronged him or his company.
“If this Khal Verro has harmed any of my men in any way…” Dalton started in warning, but Alexandros just gave him an understanding nod. “He will regret it, rest assured,” Alexandros stated, but Dalton shook his head. “I gave Hyrkoon my best men to search for his horse-woman, half of them are my most trusted commanders. If any of my men have been harmed or killed by the hands of this Dothraki whoreson, I will kill him, regardless of whatever the fuck he wants. You going to allow that?” Dalton queried, a taste for blood on his tongue, a look of death in his eyes. Alexandros held his tongue from giving his instant opinion. Yes, he would not stop Dalton from cutting open the throat of Dothraki savages, but he knew that could potentially lead to further problems down the track. Alternatively, he could promise to compensate for his losses, but what more could a sellsword entrusted to the king’s safety want?
[Say you’d allow it] [Say you’ll compensate for his losses] [Say that decision belongs to Hyrkoon]
[Say that decision belongs to Hyrkoon]
Yeah that's cool
[Say you'll compensate for his loses]
But I trust Dalton won't like any of the choices that were suggested still is good for the hand of the King to have him in a good side if not he could decide to leave with all his troops and men leaving the Kingdom in a precarious position.
Still I can't predict the man's possible reaction so let's be polite guys!
The Warlock curious thing he have became an advisor to Hyrkoon, it's a bad sign being out of Qarth?
[Say that decision belongs to Hyrkoon]
[Say that decision belongs to Hyrkoon]
[Say that decision belongs to Hyrkoon]
Oh yes, I am very happy to see Alexandros in the story
I really enjoyed this first part of him, can't wait to see where the journey will head to!
[Say that decision belongs to Hyrkoon]
Ah, the good thing about being ambitious, but not the one with the ultimate power in the kingdom is, things can always be delegated up, especially when they are uncomfortable choices. Personally, I would allow this to him, as I can understand his anger, but then again, this is bound to cause problems with the more Dothraki-friendly elements at court, something Alexandros might not need right now. So, let's do what Hykerus said, in quite an ironical way on top of that. I like it
I'm just writing a message here, so the story stays in my feed.
The Voting is Closed! And so Alexandros will say that decision belongs to Hyrkoon. Certainly a wise decision, especially as the Hand of the King, but perhaps not the answer that Dalton would like to hear. At any rate, we will see where this goes in the future.
I must apologise for my absence over the last week, I have been quite busy, and will remain so for at least another two weeks. Work has unfortunately caught up with me, and my spare time is very limited, so I must apologise that I won't be able to get much writing done until October. I should have a couple of weeks to get back into it then. I'm sorry for not informing you guys sooner about this matter, I've also had troubles accessing the site with this new issue involving the telltale not being accessible on Chrome, or at least that appears to be the case on my device
Once again, my sincerest apologies for not informing you sooner on this matter, I hope to get back into it really soon 
Don't worry man,we understand
Take all the time you need.
Man, the story is very interesting, and I can't wait to see the Five Forts, as well as the Lizard Men.
Just for the record, Ghiscari's outfits are probably different from what we see in ASOIAF, since its heavily implied those ridiculous outfits and hairdos are only interpretations and probably exaggerations of the original things. And it is mentioned that while Ghiscari had slavery, they were perfectly capable of assembling armies of free men. And if we do see a Ghiscari army, they will look similar to an Unsullied army, only with balls.
A small suggestion, don't use words that probably don't exist yet in this world, such as misogynist, quarantine and vaccine.
Yay!!!!!!
Hope u r part of this story now
Man, the story is very interesting
Wonder when new part will appear. I miss this story a lot.
I have spoken to Nitric recently and he has informed me that he is currently very busy. He wants to continue the story, but needs a few more weeks until he can even think about regularly posting again. But he definitely hasn't abandoned the story, don't be afraid there