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Deacon Lesseth

You will bow to me. Even if I have to break both of your knees, you will bow to me.

0 · 193 views · located in Our World

a character in “Crowns, Empires & Swords”, as played by Arik223

Description

King Deacon Lesseth

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Appearance & build: Deacon is 30 years old. Deacon is muscular and average in height. He has long black hair and menacing eyes. Deacon almost never smiles, he constantly looks as though he is ready for battle. Deacon has a deep scar going down his chest. He is usually seen in a fur cape and rarely in anything other than battle gear. Deacon has a mask which covers his entire face, and has horns coming out the back, this mask is only worn during war or battle.

Personality: Deacon is completely cruel and violent. He believes that fighting and war solves all the problems, and only the strong should live. Deacon believes in dominance over others and has placed himself in a position of power. Deacons actions are always with some sort of reason, he is a strong leader and very loyal to his country. Deacon does get rather angry, he can be set off rather easily and when set off he goes out of control. Deacons anger can be seen as his downfall. Deacon is very trust worthy, he doesn't break promises or alliances, with that said Deacon also wont promise anything that isn't in one way or another to his benefit.



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Where they live: Deacon lives in the Arctic land, his home is Castle Lesseth.

What/ who they are: Deacon is a Fuarian from the arctic lands. Deacon is a Lesseth, a decedent of the Lesseth family who ruled the Arctic Land's since the first colonization. The Lesseth family has been around for thousands of years, and each time the next of kin was strong enough to lead. The people of the arctic land are long known to be vicious and deadly in battle. They are known to fight to the death and never run from a fight, even if its one against a 1000. A Fuarian will sacrifice him or herself for their country. The Fuarian's are known to be loyal people, and just as advances as any of the other nations. A long dead Lesseth king made a pact within the family, this pact was honored by every Lesseth king there after. In summery the pact says that no Lesseth King will seek to expand the Fuarian land,

History: Deacon is the oldest and only living son of Hylirion Lesseth. Deacon was the first born, and three years after that his brother Layson was born. Deacon and Layson were born with completely separate personalities. Even as children Deacon was the one who always picked fights, and Layson, although a worthy fighter, tended to avoid confrontation when possible. Both Lesseth children were trained and taught all things kings should know. That went from familiarizing with the pact, knowing the laws, learning tactics, and learning how to fight. In those aspects both children were equally as talented. All kings of Fuaria ruled powerfully, but they were loved as well as respected. They were looked at as strong, and if ever challenged a Lesseth king would have no problem showing his dominance. Layson took to the pact, and agreed with all aspects of it. He believed that the old king who made the pact had the right idea in mind, that there is no reason going to look for trouble. The Fuarian's have enough land, money, and prosperity to live peacefully and comfortably. In case of an attack the Fuarians have the means to eliminate any enemy. Deacon however thought completely otherwise. Even at early childhood Deacon believed that the Fuarian's are more powerful then whoever else roams the land, and believed that the Fuarian's have a right to control whoever they please. Deacon wanted to be richer then he already is, and more powerful than he already is. Hylirion noticed this behavior and on his dying breath, in hope of holding the Lesseth pact, Hylirion named Layson as his heir. Loyalty means something to the Fuarian's, it is what makes them who they are. Deacon, although furious, respected his fathers decision and withheld his anger for two years. Deacon was given the position of high commander of Fuaria's forces, but he soon learned that without any actual fighting being a soldier mostly included keeping the peace and training day and night for a threat that was never to come. All the other nations know of the Lesseth pact, and usually tend to leave Fuaria alone. Deacon tried to convince his brother expand and to take over other nations, but Layson would not budge. When Deacon turned 29 he came to a realization, he had more loyalty to his country than to his weakling brother, so Deacon pulled a coup. After a fight to the death it wasn't Deacon's sword that fell to the floor, it was Laysons. Deacon was immediately crowned the king of Fuaria. For the next year Deacon put the army through alot of training, and invested a lot of his fortune in new gear and battle preparations. Deacon and his commander are currently the only two Fuarian's that know Deacon's true intentions.

Skills: Deacon is a very able fighter and strategist. He is also a very sound leader, with the ability to instill both fear and pride in everyone's hearts.

Other: Deacon primarily prefers to only use one sword, although he is ruthless he is loved by the Fuarian's for his sound ability to put up a good act. All Lesseth kings had fire in their hearts, so Deacons extra violent behavior was nothing to be afraid off. Deacon is loyal to his people and his country.


The Fuarian Banner
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So begins...

Deacon Lesseth's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth

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#, as written by Arik223
It was a long and exhausting trip from the Arctic Lands. King Deacon led a group of some of his finest man, along with Leon, the general of Fuaria's army, and Syrus, the head of Deacon's secret battalion. Syrus's squad held everyone from assassin's to spy's. Leon and Deacon had been close since they were children, Leon was of noble birth and his family was very close to the Lesseth family, so naturally they are close friends. It was quite a change of scenery from the Arctic lands to the south pacific kingdom. The snow slowly turned to grass, and the temperature was slowly rising. Its been quite some time since the Fuarian's traveled this far south, since they are usually restrained to the Arctic Lands. King Deacon saw the tourney summons as an opportunity, he had elaborate plans for every nation on the map, he just needed the opening to execute. Besides Deacon, Leon and Syrus were the only two that knew of true intentions of the Lesseth King.

After the long and tiresome journey King's Landing was finally in sight. Deacon and his company have not stopped for a minute throughout the entire journey, so naturally King's Landing was a welcome sight.

"Would you look at this southern shit hole..." Deacon finally spoke up. "King Robert better have something entertaining for us to watch."

Deacon, Syrus, and Leon were leading the group of man, the Fuarian soldiers and some of the Secret battalion followed a few steps behind so it would be impossible to hear any conversation the three were having.

"Ah, it will be worth it my lord. I have received reports that the Crimson lady may be easier to get to than previously thought." Syrus replied.

Deacon's face was unchanged. He simply nodded his head. "Syrus, your first priority is to talk to the pirate."

"As expected my lord." Syrus had a grin on his face. The group continued their way towards the front gate, with the Fuarian's banners raised up high. There were still many people making their way into the city, but they all seemed to move out of the way for the Fuarian King. The Fuarian's never had the best reputation, they were known as brutal killers and sometimes even barbarian, but years of peace seemed to calm those rumors a bit. Deacon and his group approached the front gate and were let right in. "Its courtesy to meet the King my lord." Leon suddenly said. "I'm well aware. Send a rider to inform King Robert of my Arrival." Leon nodded in reply and sent one of the Fuarian squires to run to the palace.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth

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While Baelish pressed the issue of cost and Hightower pressed the issue of security Robert grew increasingly frustrated. If it wasn't for Stannis he may have struck one of his councilors, if not both of them. Robert had only his wine to soothe him and his brother to placate him and even that meager solace was wearing thin. Despite the difficulties and constant bouts of shouting the meeting was nearing an end. All parties seemed satisfied and the tourney would go on as scheduled, with no interruptions or delays. The break of council couldn't come a moment sooner for King Robert who was near to hurl the lot of them through the window. Baelish left first, gathering up his account books and scrolls and bowing to the king before making his exit.

Robert downed his last cup of wine to calm his nerves before getting to his feet. No sooner was he on his feet was another member of his council making his way into the chamber at a mind numbingly slow place.

"Gods... What is it now?"

Robert asked, the frustration evident in his growling voice as he plopped himself back in his seat. Grand Maester Pycelle was still in the doorway as he began to mumble out his greetings to the king and to announce the reason for which he had come.

"Apologies, Your Grace, to disturb you so soon after the closing of council. I had only just arrived after the long walk from the rookery with this correspondence and my old bones are not what they once were. Why I remember when I was a boy that I could-"

"Gods be good, Stannis, take the damned note before I kill somebody."

Robert said as he slammed his fist down on the table while his patience danced on the edge of a knife. Stannis crossed the room quickly, his booted feet echoing off the quiet in the chamber now. He took the tiny scroll from the Grand Maester with an irritation that showed his patience was thinning as well. He read it quickly before turning to his brother.

"Queen Tenanye of Anansai is on her way Your Grace. Should be here soon. She makes some mention of forging a friendship with the South Pacific. Sounds like she wants something but what, I cannot say."

Robert grunted and got back to his feet.

"Doesn't everybody?.... Well fine then let her come. I'll greet her myself when she arrives. Now no more damn you all, no more. I'm going to enjoy the rest of my day in peace or by any gods listening someone will die today."

"Y-your Grace."

The chamber filled with a tense silence as they all turned to look at the king's squire standing in the doorway. The look he received from Rober Baratheon could have broken bone. Lancel Casterly seemed keen on pissing himself.

"Speak..."

The King snarled dangerously. Lancel swallowed hard before stuttering out his fearful response.

"K-King Deacon Lesseth has arrived, Y-Your Grace."

Robert stared at him blankly.

"Who?"

"The Fuarian ruler from the arctic lands."

Stannis answered for him, looking none too pleased with the news of the new arrival. Recollection struck Robert and his face contorted as if he smelled something foul.

"Who invited those bloody savages?"

Robert asked to the chamber as a whole but received no response which only seemed to irk the King further.

"Fuck all, let's go meet this savage king then."

The King barked in anger as he began to stomp towards the door.

"Not alone your not."

Stannis said suddenly, his voice cracking like a whip. Robert paused and turned to his brother incredulously.

"The Fuarians are little better than wildlings and this Deacon is said to be little more than a brute. Lord Commander, assemble the Kingsguard in force and escort the king personally. I will round up an appropriate number of Gold Cloaks to line the throne room to ensure the barbarians remain civil during their meeting with His Grace."

Lord Commander Hightower nodded obediently and was off to do as he was ordered.

When Deacon Lesseth was finally led into the throne room he found The King seated on his infamous iron throne, his Lord brother standing at his side with all seven of the legendary knights of the Kings Guard positioned around the base of the throne and members of the city guards Gold Cloaks positioned at regular intervals between each column in the chamber with spear in hand. An impressive show of strength to be sure and one to give any would be warrior pause.

While his uncle set to meet with kings from the frozen north Orys Baratheon walked the garden of the Red Keep with his other uncle Renly Baratheon. The two had been discussing the state of the realm and the capitol city for over an hour now and each truth Orys learned seemed to trouble him more.

"Surely this cannot be so uncle."

Orys said in disbelief. Renly only sighed with a shrug as they passed by a hedge wall of roses.

"If only it were not. Robert has not had a steady Hand since Eddard Stark."

"But without a hand everything will go to pieces."

Orys stated.

"Of that I am well aware nephew yet does Robert care? Little if at all. He's been appointing new Hands and consequently dismissing them as fast as you change your trousers. I think every member of the council has served once, none for more than a few days. Cersei was Hand once but she didn't last till nightfall. I was chosen twice. Your father was even appointed once."

"When was this? I don't remember my father becoming Hand of the King."

To that Renly chuckled.

"Ah that is because, dearest nephew, that your uncle Robert changed his mind before the raven was sent off to Storm's End."

Renly paused to give a chivalrous bow to one of the noble ladies that so seemed to populate the garden like butterflies in a meadow.

"Robert drinks more than he should, shouts more than he needs and has lost all semblance of patience.'

"But why?"

Orys asked, cutting to the heart of it.

"He's restless. This is how it was before the Last War. Fortunately last time however Amelia Stormborn arrived with her big beautiful eyes and her dragons and her war and she gave Robert something to sink his teeth into. Now all the enemies are dead or too weak to threaten him. That's why this tourney of his has struck everyone as so strange. It was the first liveliness we've seen out of the man in months. I don't know what Robert has planned but whatever it is I can assure you this Orys, we'll not soon forget it."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth

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#, as written by Arik223
It didn't take long for King Roberts summons. Deacon and his men were led to the castle, were Deacon instructed everyone besides Leon and Syrus to stay outside. Deacon and Leon would go see the king, and Syrus would go down to the Black Cells to begin the first step in their plan. Deacon and Leon were led into the heavily armed throne room. It was obvious the southerners expected little manners and civility from the Fuarian's. The Fuarian's were not seen in this part of the world for centuries, and the image of them have just gotten worse over the years. The first time since they left Fuaria King Deacon had a smile on his face, it was crucial that Deacon showed a sign of friendship. Deacon and Leon approached the king and both bowed. "Your Grace." Deacon smiled at King Robert. "Firstly I must apologize. When I heard of your tournament I seized the opportunity to come and talk to you personally. Fuarian's have stayed far from the south for centuries, but I assure you we are not as barbaric as we may seem. We come as friends not enemies." Deacon glanced at the heavily armed man around the throne room.

"As a sign of my friendship I have a gift for you, your race." Deacon nodded at Leon and Leon nodded in return. Leon reached into his satchel and pulled out a golden goblet wrapped in cloth. "This your Grace, is an ancient Fuarian goblet, for you to use as you see fit." Deacon smiled a somewhat sinister smile as Leon approached King Robert and bowed. "And again my utmost apologies for coming uninvited, but I do believe we both have a lot to benefit from a mutual friendship." Deacon didn't want to sound misleading, he wouldn't make alliances that he could somehow break, but in his mind the fate of this Southern Kingdom remained undecided.




Syrus knew the way around the castle, his spies gave most accurate reports. He made his way down to the Black Cells, telling the guards he is on important business from the King of Fuaria who is currently meeting with the king. Syrus made his way down the hall and approached the cell of the Crimson Lady. Somehow, locked in a cage like an animal she didn't seem as frightening as the stories tell, but Syrus knew otherwise. Before being captured she herself took over Fuarian merchant ships it seemed unlikely that a cage can hold her for long. "Captain Sheva." Syrus said to capture her attention. "My name is Syrus Feraldi, an adviser to King Deacon of Fuaria, and Commander of his secret battalion." Syrus didn't talk a lot, but he was smart and scary in his own way. He wasn't called the Shadow for nothing. His Shadow Crawlers, could appear from nowhere, if King Deacon wanted someone dead, that person would surely die by the hands of the Shadow. In Fuaria he was the second most feared person after King Deacon himself. "This may sound odd my dear, but I am here to help you. Fuaria comes to you as an ally with a certain offer we have to give. Firstly, you must know that whether you choose to take or deny King Deacons offer, we are willing to help you escape in any way possible. Along with completely erasing the Fuarian bounty on your head."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth

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Sitting up on her small dingy bed, a leg crossed over the other, The Crimson Lady sat staring at the peach. She didn't know whether or not she should eat it. It meant too much...

As she gazed down at the fruit, a memory crossed her mind.

"You aren't going to hurt me, are you, Ser?" asked a young, half frozen Robyn, a grey cloak drapped over her tiny shoulders and an old man, soaking in the rain kneeled down at her. "I'm not going to hurt you, lass and I am no Ser. Same as any other."


Robyn blinked back to the present. He always believed himself a normal man but he was never that, not to her. She knew what men were capable of, no he was not a man, same ans any other....He was much more.


"Captian Sheva."A voice called out. She turned her head slowly, a blank uncaring expression on her tear streaked face. "My name is Syrus Feraldi, an adviser to King Deacon of Fuaria and Commander of his secret battalion." Robyn arched an eyebrow. "And I am to care because...?" Her voice trailing off.

"This may sound odd my dear, but I am here to help you. Fuaria comes to you as an ally with a certain offer we have to give. Firstly, you must know that whether you choose to take or deny King Deacon's offer, we are willing to help you escape in any way possible. Along with completely erasing the Fuarian bounty on your head."

The Crimson Lady snorted a laugh. "I can escape this place without your assistance." She said plainly, her eyes falling on the uneaten peach. She knew why she hadn't escaped yet, no one kept the Crimson Lady for too long, this was the longest she had been in captivity, but she was waiting for Davos to answer her question, she supposed he had now. She had one more question for him and then she was gone.


She looked at Syrus, " and you should realize by now, I have bounties on my head in atleast 70 different countries, nations and or city-states. I tend not to take them seriously." She said with a wicked smirk as she rose from her bed, walked over to he bars and hung her arms between them. "So unless your King has some other incentive, you best be on your way..." She said, he4 hands hanging outside of the cell, close enough that if she wanted to she could do some serious damage to the man.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Moloch Markus

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"Well, Robert was the same as always," Cyrus commented with an ironic grin on his old face as Moloch, himself, and Eirene acquainted themselves with their new quarters. The older king had been generous in giving Moloch and his party a whole wing to themselves. Even with the knights, pages, and guards that would be living in this wing of the palace with them, there would still be plenty of room.

"Is it me or has he gotten fatter?" Eirne asked. Cyrus only shrugged.

"We all have our vices. I have a feeling that he can still raise his hammer."

"Oh, there's no doubt about that. However, it is his skills off the battlefield that trouble me," Moloch mused. He stepped towards his suite's window, which allowed him a magnificient view of the city. King's Landing lacked the magnificient white stone and the ordliness of Drake City's buildings and streets, but it had a charm all its own, "Did you notice the gazes of the nobility as we walked in and Robert's manner? There are many plots within this city and a king who can no longer bring himself to care."

"Doubtless, Cersei has her fair share of plots," Eirene noted in distaste. Moloch hummed in agreement.

"Still, it makes things easier for us. Cyrus? Can you contact our mutual friend?"

"But of course, your majesty. We cannot have you palling around with that sort where someone might see you," the old magi commented dryly as he left the room. Eirene raised an eyebrow.

"What are you planning, Moloch?"

"Our navy is small and the mercenaries we made use of in the last war are becoming arrogant. Who better to bring a pirate fleet in line than another pirate?"

***

When the average person thought of magic, they thought of thunderbolts, wind, and flame, but there were many other abilities a magician could master. Cyrus over the course of his many adventures had learned to walk unseen by human eyes. This, of course, did not stop him from being heard or smelled and even the most inept guard could notice a door opening by itself. Thus, Cyrus contented himself with following guards until he found himself in the dungeons. He was rather fortunate to find a man heading towards the same cell as himself. He smiled at the irony.

"Captian Sheva. My name is Syrus Feraldi, an adviser to King Deacon of Fuaria and Commander of his secret battalion.This may sound odd my dear, but I am here to help you. Fuaria comes to you as an ally with a certain offer we have to give. Firstly, you must know that whether you choose to take or deny King Deacon's offer, we are willing to help you escape in any way possible. Along with completely erasing the Fuarian bounty on your head."

The Crimson Lady snorted a laugh. "I can escape this place without your assistance."

" and you should realize by now, I have bounties on my head in atleast 70 different countries, nations and or city-states. I tend not to take them seriously."

"Oh, good. A bidding war. I haven't been in once since arriving at this city of Robert Baratheon's," Cyrus announced brightly, appearing beside the man who had spoken, "I happen to be named Cyrus myself and my lord can offer far more than King Deacon is able to. Besides the gold, there is your pick of a ship, a fleet of like-minded individuals such as yourself, and a port which would allow you to sell your ill-gotten goods provided that you remain... Discreet. After all, its generally bad business for both the pirate and her patron for the enemy to find out where said port is."

***

After a rather heated discussion with his Captain of the Guard regarding the untrustworthiness of pirates, Moloch had decided he could use a walk. Thus, he made his way through the castle and out onto the tourney grounds. As luck would have it, he spotted his old friend, Orys, and made his way to his tent, a couple of his guards following him. Sure enough, Orys' own guards stopped him at the entrance. Moloch smiled slightly.

"Is Prince Orys availabe or is he frequenting a paramour that I should know about," Moloch asked, making sure his voice carried into the tent so his friend could hear.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Moloch Markus

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"Oh, good a bidding war.I haven't been in one since arriving at this city of Robert Baratheon's. Said a man appearing beside Syrus. Robyn sighed impatiently.
"And who might you be?" She asked somewhat exasperated. Most men wouldn't even look in her direction let alone seek audience with her. She was really beginning to hate this prison.

"I happened to be named Cryus myself, and my lord can offer far more than King Deacpn is able to, Besides the gold, there is your pick of a ship, a fleet of like-minded individuals such as yourself and a port of which would allow you to sell your ill-gotten goods provided that you remain....Discreet. After all, its generally bad business for both the pirate and her patron for the enemy to find out where the port is."

Robyn shook her head.

"You have got to be kidding me." She said with a humorless laugh. "I have not been this popular since my days in the brothel." She said and looked up at both men. "My days at the brothel also taught me that men are only offer gifts when they want something. You two seem to want something similar, ironically." She said and sighed.

"Now, what, Dare I ask, is it that you two want in return."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Moloch Markus

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#, as written by Arik223
Syrus and Deacon had a plan, all along they had a plan. They had never planned to come to this prison announcing their plans, there are always ears in the shadows, Syrus knew that much. He also knew who this man was, since the initiation of the Shadow Crawlers, Syrus had sent out dozens of spies to every country on the globe. Many people of interest were now under his radar. This 'Cyrus' was surly one of them. Syrus chuckled to himself. "Bidding war? I am afraid I am not here to buy a free woman, or threaten her for that matter. What you offer, lord Cyrus, is merely a speckle of dust of what King Deacon has in store. But perhaps the captain is right, Your king and mine may have similar interests. I will speak to King Deacon." It was likely that both Kings shared common goals, and an alliance to King Deacon's benefit will be more than welcome. The Fuarian's aren't ones to break promises. Syrus and Leon knew what their master desired, and they were both trusted enough to make smart decisions. "My business here is concluded" Syrus smiled and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a sealed envelope with a Fuarian seal. "What I want in return, Captain Sheva, is your friendship." Syrus smiled and handed Sheva the note through the bars. "Pleasure to meet your acquaintance Cyrus. I am most certain we will be seeing each other again." With that Syrus bowed and walked towards the stairs. He stopped and turned his head slightly. "As for the bounty you have in other countries is concerned, I am sure none of that will matter. After all, even kings and queens are sensible people." Syrus gave another sinister smile and made his way out the door.

the note:
"Captain Sheva, you must excuse the privacy of this matter. The shadow's lurk with wondering eyes and ears. It is likely that our conversation has gotten your attention, if here are direction's on how to find me and conclude the conversation in a more suitable manner. There are many secrets that King Deacon and I are more than willing to share with you. I will be awaiting at the inn well after midnight. On the off chance you are not interested, It was a pleasure meeting the Crimson Lady.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Moloch Markus

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"If you were not interested on my offer, we wouldn't be speaking. Now, what could the Fuarians offer you? Their treasury, you will find, is quite small in comparison to other, richer countries. The Arctic Lands can support them, but there isn't much of a surplus for paying mercenaries. They haven't warred with their neighbors in years, though judging from their interest in you this will change soon."

Robyn laughed at that. She figured that much already, she was amused by the 'My lands, richer then their land' stunt thry both were pulling, it was like childern fighting over which of them had the bigger slice of cake. Childish.

"Most likely, they will pay you in whatever plunder you can find, but where will you sell those valuables? King Moloch is more then capable of paying you handsomely for you services and has a port where you can do business undisturbed. He also offers you a ship as a token of his generosity.
As for the job, it's quite simple. Have you heard of the Sea Vultures? They served the Drake Kingdom well in the previous war and were well paid for your services, but their leader is demanding more than he deserves. Here is our offer: Duel the pirate, take control of his fleet, and work as a privateer for the Drake Kingdom. In return, you will receive a stipend, a ship of your choice from our navy, a safe port to trade in, and 70% of the plunder from your raids."


Robyn leaned lazily against the bars, her arms hanging on the outside, peach still in hand. She took a bit out of it, she felt herself wanted to close her eyes and relish in it's sweetness, in it's nostalgia but she didn't. She simply licked her lips, appearing as if she didn't give a good damn, which was partly true. It was an interesting offer, to kill a man but it seemed all too easy, she could do that on her own time, and she has, just for the hell of it.

The port was a nice touch though, she had to admit, but she never did it for the money. With the way she looked, she could easily open her own brothel. No, it was something deeper then that, it was something darker...to this day she was never entirely sure what is was. It didn't matter now, she was good at it.

They wanted something
The privateer bit wasn't lost on her either, that part didn't sit well. That was the catch.

As she poundered over this, Cyrus spoke again.

"Of course, you are not the only pirate that sails these seas. If you reject this offer, we will find someone else."

Robyn brow shot to her forehead and she laughed, like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard.

"Oh that's rich."she said, shaking her head downward as she laughed.

" Do you honestly think I believe that? " She said, catching her breath, " By the Gods, Do you honestly believe that?" She said, and then suddenly she stopped, her face went dead and she grabbed Cryus by the collar, vioently and yanked him toward her, pulling him up against the bars, her lips centimeters from his face.

"Listen you pretentious peice of shit, Of course, I am not the only damned pirate who sails these seas but there is no one quite like me, is there? Your King, requested me specifically, that is why he was so willing to risk possible tension between Drake and the South Pacific,by releasing another King's prisoner, surely King Robert the Old knows nothing of this little proposistion, no and why is that? Because he needs me, my skill set. If he wanted some run of the mill pirate he would have got one." She said and released the man, and stepped away from the bars.

"I know of the Sea Vultures. A foolish name really, but that is a foolish man so it fits. That is what you get for hiring privateers....and speaking of foolish men, tell your King, since you are such a raging idiot, and are too damn foolish to have the proper answers to any questions I have, He can come and see me himself, or he can take offer, shove it up his royal arse, turn left and then go straight to hell." She said plainly, and took another bite of her peach.

"Well, Go on." She said, and shooed him with a flick of fingers as if speaking to a stray dog. "I've got things to do..."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Moloch Markus

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The throne room of the Red Keep was silent as a crypt. The Fuarian dignitary knelt before the steps to the iron throne and consequently the line of Kingsguards, with an ornate looking jewel encrusted golden chalice. King Robert of the House Baratheon, first of his name, sat unmoving on his iron throne. His face was an unreadable mask that could be mistaken for displeasure or mere annoyance. His kingly stare flicked from the goblet to the foreign king and back again. Resigned to accept the gift Robert motioned for the cup and it was brought to him by one of his Kingsguard who inspected it carefully before handing it over to his Majesty. Robert gave the item a cursory glance before casually handing it to his brother who stood stoically at his right.

"I was told you were bloodthirsty, savage and thoroughly devoid of any semblance of courtly graces. You can imagine my disappointment at finding nothing more than nobles that wear leather instead of lace. Very well. I accept your gift, Your Majesty is too kind."

Robert said utterly bored with the entire preceding. He got to his feet, rising from the iron throne to loom over the hall like a great shadow.

"We have meat and mead in plenty. You are guests in my city and given your station are entitled to one of the estates just outside of the Red Keep reserved for guests of the crown. Boy!"

He barked calling for his squire. The young, place faced Lancel Casterly rushed to his kings side in an instant.

"Y-yes, Y-Your Grace?"

"Show the king and his men to the Manse by the sea. Should do them well for their stay."

"At once, Your Grace."

Lancel said respectfully before rising to his feet and escorting the foreign king and his retainers to the mansion that overlooked Blackwater Bay. Once the Fuarian's were gone Robert would hear no more matters of state. He would eat, drink himself into a stupor and enjoy the remainder of the evening in peace or there would be hell to pay.

Meanwhile on the tourney field in a pavilion of yellow and black Ser Orys Baratheon sat in an oaken chair, coated with with wolf pelts reading a book. He had removed his armor and was in a simple yet richly made quilted tunic. The color of the fabric was black as a crows wing.The only color breaking up the monotony of black was the golden stags that adorned the tunic as buttons. Orys had a fire growing in the braziers within the tent to cut the chill that was coming with the setting of the sun and he had a glass of Arbor Red Wine beside him that he had been casually sipping on as he read about the fantastical Caliphate of Andalusia. Orys was in the middle of a chapter describing the mighty rhinox which were massive beasts used as mounts by the Andulasian knights.

It was then that a familiar voice pulled Orys from the flat lands of the east and back to the tourney field of King's Landing.

"Is Prince Orys availabe or is he frequenting a paramour that I should know about,"

Orys shouldered past the guards standing outside his tent. His thick, heavily muscled frame caused the gold cloaks to nearly stumble from the rough bump. Orys set his sights on the king of Moloch before breaking into a wide smile and embracing the man as a friend and brother.

"Moloch!"

He said as cheerfully before releasing the king from his grasp and taking a step back.

"It's good to see you again, how long has it been?... Or should I say how long has it been Your Grace. Come, come, have a drink with me."

Orys said waiving the King of Drake into his tent where he set out a couple of mugs and filled them both with strong honeyed mead so the men could talk and catch up. It wasn't long before drink wasn't enough for the two men and Orys sent for food to be brought to them in his pavilion. Choice cuts of boar with lemon seasoning and spiced potatoes along with three roast quails, a leg of lamb, a cask of ale, a bowl of blueberries and raspberries, and finally a few sweet cakes for desert were laid out for them at their leisure and the old friends feasted and laughed joking all the while as night descended on King's Landing.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Amelia Stormborn Character Portrait: Moloch Markus

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Night came and with it King's Landing slept. The commotion of the day muted to a low hum and the city of King's rested for the day ahead. The moon stood it's vigil as always and when it's watch came to an end the sun returned with a new day and promise of a spectacle like none the realm had seen before. Golden trumpets sounded as knights from all over the realm marched their magnificent warhorses to the tourney field. In the early morning hours the jousting pitch was already packed with spectators eager to see the arrival of the days champions. The tourney field was a length of sanded earth, packed down with a wooden fence separating where the jousting knights would come charging at one another. Along one side of the pitch was the finely crafted wooden stands, where the King, his Queen, his court, courtiers and royal guests would sit and witness the days events. On either end of the stands were massive carved stags prancing proudly with their magnificent antlers adorning their wooden heads like crowns. The other side of the field bore no seating but was open to the public and all members of realm who wished to bear witness to the days spectacle.

The crowned stag of Baratheon was everywhere from the massive tapestry sized banner that flew from over the kings seat in the center of the stands to the high standard poles on either side of the carved stags. Beside the royal sigil came all the others that earned high honors and respect. There was the golden lion of Lannister on it's crimson field and the grey direwolf of Stark on it's field of white. The golden rose of Tyrell amidst it's sea of green and the silver trout of Tully swimming through it's rivers of red and blue were there granting their beauty for all to see. There was the black hounds of Clegane on their yellow fields and the white moon and falcon of Arryn on a sky blue field. So many banners and colors the tourney goers no doubt felt as if they had stepped into a fever dream the sights and sounds of the tourney were so wonderous.

Then came fourth that which all had come to see, the knights in all their splendor. Champions in their brilliant, shining plate it was a beauty to behold such radiance. The high lords and ladies marveled at the warriors beneath their steel as did the small folk. The column of knights had men from all corners of the South Pacific. One of the first knights to be recognized was the well known Ser Beric Dondarrion in his black, heavy plate armor of riveted steel. Emblazoned on his chest and on his shield was the purple lightning bolt of his house. Down his back was a massive cloak of fine embroidery that depicted a nights sky with stars and lightning arcing down. Next came the monstrous Ser Gregor Clegane, so large he was called The Mountain That Rides. Following behind his brother was Sandor Clegane who was often called The Hound, no doubt for the sigil of his house and the ferocious helm he wore that had the appearance of a snarling hound.

As the Clegane brothers rode by the kings grace some heard Lord Petyr Baelish begin to take wagers that The Mountain would win the day. Next came Ser Hugh of the Vale, a young knight of only twenty who wore wonderfully enameled blue steel with a falcon helm and a magnificent sky blue cloak. After him was the only knight not from the South Pacific, Ser Jorah Mormont who served as the sworn shield of the Queen of the North Pacific Kingdom. She was seated just below King Robert Baratheon himself and Queen Cersei. On her right sat the King of Drake Moloch Markus who at the moment was listening to the King rave about his nephew who was no doubt soon to ride past.

At the end of the procession came the two men who were most expected to win the entire week long tourney. First was the knight of flowers, Ser Loras Tyrell. Where some knights were strong and others were cunning Ser Loras was above all beautiful. His armor was the finest plate many have ever seen, with forged roses adorning his shoulder pauldrons and vines that descended down to his gauntlets. His helm was wreathed in silver roses so masterfully crafted they appeared to be living plant made of shining metal. Flowing down his slender shoulders was a cloak of hand woven roses of varying colors giving it an almost rainbow appearance. Many of the lady's in attendance and maidens swooned as he rode past granting them a chivalrous nod or a wave that sent their hearts a flutter.

Then he came, The Shadow of Axel, Robert come again, Ser Orys Baratheon and with his entrance the people erupted in a deafening roar of cheers. Clearly the favored to win and the crowds chosen champion. He wore heavy steel plate of the highest caliber that shined in the morning sun. The plate was enameled beautifully with stags prancing proudly up his chest. His large frame posed a heroic figure atop his massive destrier whose coat and mane were black as obsidian. His helm was adorned with fearsome looking stag's antlers and his large shoulder pauldrons had the images of charging stags hammered in with exquisite detail. Flowing down his broad back was a cloak of yellow and black so long it covered much of the war horse he rode upon. The king leapt to his feet cheering loudly and pointing proudly as Orys rode by. So excited he was he spilled his wine all over the Queen's fine crimson dress and hardly seemed to notice, even as she walked off fuming.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Moloch Markus

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#, as written by Arik223
Syrus made his way out of the cells, just in time to see his king being led to their estate. Syrus nodded to his king and rejoined their delegation. The place they were given surely had its charm. Once they were all settled, Deacon called Syrus and Leon into the room. "How did it go with the pirate?" Deacon said sternly to Syrus. Syrus had a sort of grin on his face. "She was just as I expected. She doesn't work for anyone, her free will is far too powerful for anyone to contain. Although my lord, King Moloch also has his eyes on the pirate." Deacon gave Syrus a serious look, this could either be very good or very bad. "King of Drake. Of course he is up to something. Although he may be beneficial to my cause.".

"King Moloch may be a good ally my lord. He can be a good tool for us to use. Although he is stronger then he may seem, and his young age may be misleading." Leon spoke from behind Deacon.

Syrus nodded his head. "On that note my king, I must go. She will surely show up at the inn, and I am sure you and Leon have the tourney to attend to." Deacon nodded at Syrus at the man was on his way.

Deacon and Leon left with the group early in the morning, making their way to the kings tourney. This city did have a certain charm, not that Deacon cared much about aesthetics. Deacon his man did arrive a bit late, most of the knights had already entered and the crowed roared for them. Deacon and Leon made their way to congratulate King Robert on a fine show. Deacon's theatrics would have to last a little bit longer, there was still business to be taken care off, and many more kings and queen's yet to arrive and to speak too. Moloch was one of them, and Deacon noticed the man right away next to King Robert. Deacon wasn't exactly sure where he would sit to watch the show, since he wasn't "formally" invited. "Your highness." Deacon said behind King Robert. "Thank you again for accepting me in your city. Marvelous knights in your land." Deacon turned to Moloch with a smile. "King of Drake." Deacon bowed to Moloch. Surely the man Moloch sent has warned his king of Deacon's plans.




Syrus made his way to the inn as soon as the Fuarian Delegation made way to the tourney. Syrus's hunches were rarely wrong, he knew the pirate would be there. His offer was most intriguing, and he always knew how to choose his words carefully. Syrus walked through the front door, he wasn't surprised that the pirate didn't much to hide herself. The tourney would require most of the king's man, she couldn't choose a better time to escape. Syrus took a seat next to Captain Sheva. "Glad to see you made it out okay, but then again, I had no doubts in your skills."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth

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#, as written by Arik223
Syrus gave the disguised pirate a smile. "I don't doubt the snakes from Drake got your attention." Syrus took sipped on his rum. This would either be a hit or a miss. Deacon needed Sheva on his side, she would a great asset. "King Deacon is quiet busy I assure you. Just as I am here talking to you, he is talking to Kings to implement his plans. You will meet him soon enough." If the captain was to join the Fuarian side, she needed to know that she would be completely trusted, although it might be possible that she will eventually turn on them. The information Syrus would tell her now would become public knowledge soon enough. "As far as our secrets go, we are willing to share them in full." Syrus smiled and took another drink from his mug before placing it down. "I don't suppose you have ever heard of the Lesseth Pact? For ages the kings of Fuaria were sworn to stay in the Arctic lands, they swore to never expand and to never invade neighboring countries, and on that same path neighboring countries are smart enough to know that attacking the Arctic lands means complete annihilation. The Fuarians had kept to themselves since the pact was made. King Deacon plans to remove the pact from Fuarian Laws. There is something you should know about my King, he is very loyal, and also very strong. The Fuarians never break alliances, and if you choose to work with us, the benefits would be tremendous. There is a reason why Fuarian soldiers are known to be barbaric, in combat they will never back down. " Syrus smiled as he finished his mug. "I don't suppose you ever wanted to be a queen of your own country dear?" Syrus didn't think Sheva was interested in power, but there are things to motivate her. "Maybe revenge on those who put you in a jail cell?" Syrus looked at the captain. "If you choose to become an ally of King Deacon, nothing will be out of your reach. Anyone you want dead, will die, any size ship you desire would be built for you. Deacon will soon start his march down south, most of the world as we know will be under Fuarian control if all plans come together, countries King Deacon will choose to ally with will never be harmed or threatened. King Deacon offers to help you in return for your help, as he offers anyone whom he may encounter. "

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth

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#, as written by Arik223
Syrus knew that he had a very strong argument, and he knew that it made the Captain think. Syrus had a certain set of skills, these skills that put him on top and in charge of the shadow crawlers. He had a way with words, he said what he needed to say, nothing more, and he knew an impact would be made. Now there is a different problem, although the Captain said she would cooporate, and Syrus knew she was serious, he was not sure her business with Moloch. All that had to be explored. She would first need to meet Deacon.

Syrus smiled, "Captain Sheva I assure you that your condition will be more then met. I am sure you are trying to be careful Captain, we can either go together, I can either give you the money and let you go alone, or I can buy whatever you may need. One way or the other, you are welcome to stay in the Fuarian Estate. King Robert and most of the guards will be busy for this tourney, I assure you that you are more than safe at our estate. Though this is entirely your decision captain."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Amelia Stormborn Character Portrait: Moloch Markus

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As King Moloch and King Robert joked casually about the jousts to come a foreign voice broke the air and Robert grumbled under his beard as he turned to look at the hulking barbarian king from Fuaria. The man was a massive beast of raw muscle and towering heights. Not so unlike Robert's own build in his youth.

"Your highness. Thank you again for accepting me in your city. Marvelous knights in your land."

Robert arched an eyebrow as he held a horn of sweet smelling wine from the Arbor in his hand.

"Your Highness?... That what they call kings where you're from?"

Robert emptied his horn and called for another before he realized the King of Fuaria was still towering over him.

"Gods man, I feel like I'm in the shadow of a mountain. Sit!"

Robert barked as two more knights took to the field. Ser Loras Tyrell, also known as the Knight of Flowers was set to ride against Ser Wendel Mandelry. Ser Wendel looked near a pauper next to the brilliant Knight of Flowers in his spectacular rainment. Ser Wendel's own teal tinted heavy plate with the mermans trident enamel looked dull and utterly forgettable in comparison. Both knights tilted their lances at the king in respect before Ser Loras asked the favor of a young, and pretty maid from the stands.

"Yes, yes, enough with the damned pomp. Get on with it!"

King Robert bellowed. The two knights bowed one final time in respect before taking their positions.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Amelia Stormborn Character Portrait: Moloch Markus Character Portrait: Davina Mikaelson

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#, as written by Arik223
Deacon looked at the king, these southerner's were definitely small in stature. Deacon had a role to play, this role would not be done until everything is settled. King Deacon took a seat and looked at everyone. First thing's first, Moloch had to be taken care off. Deacon threw a glance at the King of Drake. Deacon's intelligence on Moloch was solid, the man was a snake and would manipulate his way through anything. They would have to talk.

Then there were others. The princess of the South Atlantic Kingdom was there, definitely a worth territory to control. And this mother of dragons, Deacon knew close to nothing about her. Her kingdom is hard to infiltrate, her unsullied are good soldiers. Deacon looked at Orys Baratheon, the man was surely good at what he does. If anyone here could hold their own against Deacon in battle, it most likely would be Orys Baratheon. Time was nearing very close, he would soon give the command to start moving south, his strength would have to double or even triple. There are worthy allies to be made, people that can be used to Deacon's benefit. Deacon has been hearing rumors of some kings and queens that have yet to arrive. For now though he would have to enjoy king Roberts tourney. Some of these knights would never hold up in battle, their main job is to perform. Deacon cringed, these southerners have no sense of power or control. Their kingdoms will slip between their fingers if they are not careful. With anything that is still to come, they have to be very careful.




Syrus gave the captain a smile. Things are moving according to plan, but her plans with Moloch are yet to be explored. "Not an issue I assure you. You will see my king when he comes back from the tourney, until then you may do what you may like. Meet me at the estate and I will bring your wardrobe to you. Speaking of, what is it that you would like?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Amelia Stormborn Character Portrait: Moloch Markus Character Portrait: Kenna Caitlin Character Portrait: Davina Mikaelson

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Orys Baratheon was no mere man, not on the tourney field and not on this day. This day man and horse and lance were one. Again and again the Stag pit itself against the Bear and time and time again neither beast was greater. Ser Jorah Mormont, Sworn Shield of Queen Amelia Stormborn had fought his way through the ranks. An upset to be sure, most expected the aging knight to put up a good show in the first few bouts but fall easily once the first knight of considerable skill took the field. But the tenacious Ser Mormont took on all challengers and yet, here he stood. He had unseated Sandor Clegane, he had unseated Ser Robar Royce and Ser Desmond Crakehall. He had bested Ser Rickard Karstark and in the semi final he had been pit against the Knight of Flowers himself, Ser Loras Tyrell. Many believed that the impressive display by the Bear Knight had reached an end for Ser Loras was favored by many to win the entire tourney but to everyone's surprise when the match was done it was the Bear that remained ahorse and the rose that fell to the dirt.

While Jorahs' rise through the lists was surprising, Orys' own rise was anything but. He preformed as so many expected. He decimated all in his path, his strength, skill, tenacity and raw power made short work of every knight he faced. He had proved solid as stone when struck, many lances breaking off his shield or armor yet moving the burly knight little. He unseated Ser Carlyle Lannister and Ser Robb Stark early on. Then he was pitted against Ser Edmure Tully of the Riverlands and Ser Vardis Egen of the Vale. Both the trout and the falcon fell before the stag. Ser Orys faced down The Mountain, Ser Gergor Clegane and proved to be mightier with an impressive display. His semi final match, Eirene of Drake fought valiantly but she too found herself unable to ride against the power of Orys Baratheon.

Now the day was nearing it's end and the two knights breathed heavy as they rode at one another for the tenth time. The men broke nine lances off one another throughout the course of the joust and now on the tenth the duel would be settled. Lance leveled at it's target, horses charging, shields battered as they were raised and at the ready. Then the clash and the shatter of shield and lance. The crowd leapt to it's feet as both king and commoner held it's breath in that moment. Then the solid, resounding thud of an armored body hitting the dirt. When it was over Ser Jorah Mormont was laying on his back looking up at the sky as Ser Orys Baratheon rode triumphant. He dismounted and helped Ser Jorah to his feet before he exchanged a few friendly words and shook his hand before mounting again to take his victory lap. The crowd roared for the victor and Ser Orys, tired, and bruised had never felt better in his life. He rose his armored fist into the air as he was loss of lance after it shattered against Jorah chest plate.

He rode to take his place before the king and be named champion. King Robert Baratheon was beaming. A proud, wide smile was fixed to his face as he looked at his beloved nephew. Orys could not help but smile as he gave his uncle a wink and a smile before he bowed his head in his saddle. Robert got to his feet, his queen Cersei watching him with little interest from her place beside him. He stepped forward and spoke, his deep, booming voice reaching all ears in attendance.

"A fine showing, fine showing that was! My boy, Orys of the House Baratheon took on all comers and tossed them to the dirt."

If pride was gold Robert Baratheon would be the richest man that ever lived in that moment. Orys cast a quick glance at his Lord Father who sat a few places away from the King. Stannis gave his son a soft smile and a nod of approval as Robert continued.

"I'm reminded of when you rode against the Dothraki who thought to pillage our lands and steal our women and children. They would have too if not for Orys Baratheon who rode out to meet them. They were strong but you were stronger, they were fierce but you were fiercer and when it was done it was you who stood victorious and you who protected our lands and it's people."

Orys was grateful for the praise but curious as to where his uncle was going. Usually the naming of victor was a short formality not a long winded account of all the victor's past accomplishments.

"I remember when you stood side by side with our friend King Moloch of Drake where you single handedly defended the king and fought at his side to help protect his land and keep."

Lord Stannis flicked his gaze from his son to his brother in concern. Many of the courtiers were beginning to wonder the very same thing that he and his son were wondering now.

"And of course when we rode out half way across the damned world to lend the might of The House Baratheon to the rightful Queen of the North Pacific, it was you Orys Baratheon, who bested the fabled Black Knight Argos the Cruel with a single blow! One!"

The air was still and the crowd was silent as they looked at the king. Orys sat in his saddle staring up at his uncle, he had tensed his jaw and confusion played across his hard features. Yet to look upon Robert's face one would think the man was looking upon his greatest accomplishment realized before him.

"These deeds... these great trials have forged you. Hammered you into a man greater than any. They have proved your willingness to defend this country as well as your strength to see it done. It is for these reasons, for the great love I bear you and since I have no true born children of my own..."

Queen Cersei Lannister's face grew pale and still like a corpse, her eyes widened as she looked at her husband in horror.

"That I Robert of the House Baratheon, First of my Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the South Pacific Kingdom and Protector of the Realm do so hereby name you my one and true lawful heir and future king."

There was a gasp that took the crowd. Stannis looked to his son as Cersei clenched her fists in fury. Robert seemed quite pleased with himself as Orys stared at him in disbelief. Then he dismounted his destrier and fell to a knee before his uncle the king.

"Your Grace, I..."

He began before his uncle cut him off.

"I'll hear nothing of it, it's been decided. Now you knelt a knight, rise a prince."

And so he rose, Ser Orys of the House Baratheon, once a knight of Storm's End was now Prince Orys Baratheon, The future King of the South Pacific Kingdom.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Amelia Stormborn Character Portrait: Moloch Markus Character Portrait: Kenna Caitlin Character Portrait: Davina Mikaelson

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The south Pacific Kingdom was bathed in the golden light of twilight as the sun began it's descent. Mere yards away from the tourney field where King Robert Baratheon shocked his kingdom, courtiers and foreign friends with the news of his naming of Orys Baratheon as his sole heir a massive feast was beginning to get under way. Tents and pavilions of colored silks and rich cloth seemed to coat the green grass field. Banners flew in the wind and whipped about as revelers began to get the first of many drinks and meals of the evening. The largest tent was the one reserved for the king, his guests and the knights and houses of the tourney. The tent was open with countless poles holding up section of cloth. Easily larger than many buildings the tent had been erected to fit a huge mass of people.

Within servants were bringing out barrel after barrel of fine wine, ales and meads. The spiced wine was hot and it's fragrant scent filled the area around the cook fires. Shortly after the drinks were brought out the food followed. Several whole boar, roasted, seasoned to perfection and drizzled with honey were carried out by teams of servers. Flocks of quail, turkeys, chicken, and duck each prepared with herbs and garnished with lemon or wild berries. There was plates and a platters of trout, salmon, herring and snapper. Buckets of steaming red crabs were carried out by a small army of servants who held bowls of butter and steamed potatoes as well. Long platters, larger than some tables were carried into the tent that held tender mutton, juicy lamb and steaks of beef. Beyond the fresh and succulent meats the sweetest and most flavorful fruits all the way from Highgarden were carried in by the bushel load. Rich apples, juicy oranges, sweet berries, delicious melons and bucket after bucket of nuts were carried into the feasting tent. The baked foods were in great supply as well. Everything from hot, soft bread, sweet rolls, lemon cakes, frosted pastries, fruit pies, sugared delights and more were brought out in great abundance.

After the food was brought in and was beginning to be served the entertainment entered. Jugglers dressed in flamboyant motley bounded in tossing knives, torches and eggs. As a jest some times the jugglers would accidentally drop an egg or two on one of the countless fools running around illicting laughs from the guests with jokes and baudy songs. Minstrels marched in like an army wielding weapons of song and melody. Acrobats leapt through the air, often times somersaulting through rings of fire blown by the fire eaters. There were dancing monkeys in tiny little surcoats banging symbols and bells much to the revelers amusement. There were prancing striped horses brought out on multicolored bridles for the little ones to ride and marvel at. Many a noble and lord were astonished by the dancing bears that were brought out wearing tiny hats with bells on them.

While the whole of the South Pacific seemed to laugh, drink, feast and lose themselves in the joy of the feast for the new crowned prince, the prince himself sat in silence. He was on the long table reserved for the king, queen, and honored guests. He was expected to sit there so there he sat but his uncle was face first in a busty maid and the queen was no where to be seen. So alone he drank and his mind struggled with the revaluation that he would one day be king. He had never prepared for this nor expected it. He was no prince, no king's son. He expected to grow into the Lord of Storm's End, maybe even sit on the small council should the king ask it of him but not this. Princes spent their entire lives preparing for the duties of rule. Orys had spent his life in soldiers tents and battlefields, not council chambers and dignitary meetings. With a sigh the prince took a long and thirsty gulp of the rich red wine he had been given hoping the strong drink would steady his nerves. The only thing he took solace in was that his uncle was not yet an old man and had many years yet to sit on the Iron Throne before the gods would take him through age.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Queen Tenanye Ananse Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Amelia Stormborn Character Portrait: Moloch Markus Character Portrait: Kenna Caitlin Character Portrait: Davina Mikaelson

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Robert looked up to find a spirit standing before him, or was it the spirits coursing through his system that made him think that? She was announced to be Queen Tenanye Ananse of Anansai. A land Robert had heard about, yet never seen. Probably due to the fact that Anansai was a peaceful country. A country of silk makers and spider worshipers but a people who valued their peace. A worthy endeavor to be sure but one that would bore Robert to death were he born an Anansai. Clearing his throat Robert pushed the serving girl off his lap with a quick slap to her backside. She giggled and pranced away allowing King Robert Baratheon to get to his feet. His first thought of the Spider Queen was simple and blunt. "God's she's small" He thought yet then again, Robert was a massive man and to him, most women seemed small. By all rights the girl had a few inches on Queen Amelia Stormborn yet that fact didn't strike the king who was well into his cups.

Robert gave her a friendly smile and a kingly nod as he extended his hand out to the feast underway.

"Well the festivities are not over yet as you can well see. We have meat, drink, and enjoyment a plenty. Please, make yourself comfortable and get something to eat. Tonight, you are my guest."

Robert was about to dismiss her when he spotted his nephew looking sullen as a orphan boy, sitting along on the dais drinking alone.

"Oh before I forget, seeing as how you missed the joust you don't know. That lad there, he's my nephew. Orys is his name, Prince Orys as of now. I just named him my heir."

Robert said proudly with a beaming drunken grin. Leaning in he nudged her gently with his elbow as he threw a thumb in Orys' direction.

"Introduce yourself to the future king would you? Maybe a beauty like yourself can turn that frown of his the right way round, eh?"

With that Robert Baratheon took his leave. A cup of wine called him and that boxum maid seemed lonely without his kingly grace.

As the king met the ruler of Anansai a man who grew up in Flea Bottom was staring at a ghost in finery with a wicked smile.

"Are you daft lass?"

Dvaos said in a hushed whisper as he grabbed her wrist.

"Escaping the dungeon? They found the body of the guard you killed. They want your head, I won't be able to stop them twice."

His concerns halted as his mind reviewed what Robyn had said. Davos paused and stared at her in concern and even fear.

"What business partner? What have you gotten yourself into?..."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Queen Tenanye Ananse Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Amelia Stormborn Character Portrait: Kenna Caitlin Character Portrait: Caliph Khaled ibn Tamim II Character Portrait: Davina Mikaelson

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The festivities were a welcome diversion, Moloch supposed, though he would have preferred Drake City's over the general debauchery which King Robert Baratheon indulged in. He was seated next to Ser Orys, now Prince Orys, and, while Cyrus enjoyed listening to an old Pacific song he heard in his youth, Eirene was becoming increasingly agitated. This, of course, came as no surprise to Moloch. These festivities did not foster the most respect for women, even dangerous women such as herself.

"You fought well, ser knight, but I am sure you are a lady beneath that armor," one of the joust's constestants slurred. Cyrus began to count under his breath as Eirene's body tensed. On three, she had tossed the knight, armor and all, across the room and into a roasted bore. Coincidentally, his head became stuck in its mouth.

"I cannot say the irony is lost on me," Eirene stated with a smirk. Cyrus laughed uproarously and Moloch smirked. He raised an eyebrow, however, when he saw a familiar face in the crowd. So, the pirate queen had escaped already. He gave a nod to Cyrus, who excused himself to use the privy. Soon enough, he would be walking unseen near the sea captain and the older knight Moloch, meanwhile, turned to speak with his friend.

"You look as if you are condemned to death rather than being made heir to an entire kingdom. You should not be troubled. You have the respect and love of your people and you are a capable warrior. Not to mention you are of royal blood and have plenty of common sense. If this kingdom can survive your uncle, it can survive you."

He couldn't resist a small chuckle as the king chose this moment to introduce Orys to the Queen of the Ananse.

"Well, your uncle certainly understands arranged marriages if that is what he meant."

***
"Of all your reckless stunts, Prince Kallias, this is the worst," a bearded magi told a youth on horseback. Accompanied a full company of Drake knights, the two rode into the desert, the magi a little more reluctantly than the youth, "King Moloch left you in charge of the Royal Court and you just abandoned your duty to chase after one of your imaginary quests!"

"The city is in good hands. Steward Vandoler is a good man. And it's not an imaginary quest. I have a younger sibling to find," Kallis replied easily.

"A bastard sibling. In the Caliphate! If Caliph Khaled is anything like his father, he will not be pleased you came unannounced. And your relation could be anywhere. Your father did not care. Neither should you," the magi stated.

"I am your prince," he reminded him.

The magi sighed, "Oh King Moloch, why did you have to inherit your father's brains and leave nothing for this one?"

***

"Farid! Prepare a tray of refreshments. I want you them to be ready as soon as the Caliph requests his evening tea," the head servant ordered, her hands on her hips. Farid looked up from where he was cleaning a set of silverware in the kitchen. Truthfully, he was lucky to be employed in the Caliph's kitchens, but that didn't mean he didn't long to take a break in the gardens.

"Yes, mistress," he stated, doing as she ordered. His mother had been a servant as well, but she had died a year ago. He wished he knew who his father was, but that was just wishful thinking. He could be anyone really. He looked foreign so he could have been a visiting ambassador, but that was small comfort. Truthfully, he didn't care anymore. He just wished something more exciting would happen than washing dishes.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Queen Tenanye Ananse Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Amelia Stormborn Character Portrait: Moloch Markus Character Portrait: Kenna Caitlin Character Portrait: Davina Mikaelson

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Orys tried to smile but found little joy into him to do so. He turned to Moloch, his closest friend and shook his head.

"I don't feel like a Prince Moloch. I certainly don't feel like a king..."

Orys sighed and rubbed his brow with his thumb and fore finger. Looking up and out onto the sea of people feasting and drinking all Orys wanted to do was get on his horse and ride off. Turning to Moloch he couldn't help but marvel at his friend. Now he looked like a king. Noble, regal, proud, wise, stern and collected. He exhumed rule and authority, Orys could never imagine doing the same thing.

"It's different for you, my friend. You were born to rule. I never... I never expected this. I thought, sure I'd take over Storm's End when my father passed. I'd serve as a lord, protect my keep and small folk but King? No... You were born a prince, trained since birth to rule. I was trained to ride a horse, swing a sword, bear a shield, kill my enemies but not rule."

Orys downed his cup and grimaced as the strong drink went down his throat. He wondered if his uncle had made the right choice. He wondered why his uncle had made the choice at all. It was true he had no true born children but surely there were better choices than he? His father for instance. Stannis was Robert's younger brother. Who better to inherit? Stannis was intelligent, justice minded and fair. He'd been Lord of Storm's End Orys' entire life. He knew how to rule, he would have made a resplendent king. What manner of king Orys would be was anybody's guess.

Before the two friends could talk any further a foreign beauty approached the pair. Orys did not recognize her but new instantly she was not maiden of the South Pacific. Her suntanned skin was almost perfectly bronzed and her hair was black as night. Her eyes were exotic and haunted, her build curvaceous but only just so. She was no buxom lass but instead a elegantly built woman.

"Good evening."

She said with a bow.

"I am Pr-Queen Tenanye Ananse, A pleasure to meet you both."

Her words were spoken softly and her smile was softer still. Orys found himself put at ease, even if it was just for a moment.

"The pleasure is ours I assure you, Your Grace."

Orys said only after he rose. Instinctively he bowed and wondered if princes were supposed to bow. Given as he wasn't certain he figured it best to be corrected if he was wrong rather than refrain from doing so and being thought of as rude. After he straitened himself he introduced himself to the foreign Queen.

"I am... Prince Orys Baratheon."

The epithet felt alien on his tongue yet Orys swallowed it all the same. He'd need to get used to it.

While the royals greeted each other a smuggler danced with a pirate. Davos tried his best to act natural but his nerves and concern were getting the better of him.

"I was always concerned for you, I still am. Why do you think I...."

Davos didn't have time to explain away a life time of bad decisions nor did he truly believe he could. All he could do was concern himself with the here and now and here and now Robyn could very well be getting herself in water hot enough to boil a crab.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is this job of yours, this employer."

Davos paused to glance around the tent to see if anyone was watching them. He felt like every eye in the kingdom was on them and knew what they were talking about. In truth not a single man, woman, child or dancing monkey noticed them.

"They caught you once and they can do it again. Next time... Robyn please, whatever this folly is drop it. Don't do it for me, do it for yourself. No good can come of it."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Queen Tenanye Ananse Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Amelia Stormborn Character Portrait: Moloch Markus Character Portrait: Kenna Caitlin Character Portrait: Davina Mikaelson

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Orys tried a smile, attempted one at least but it was weak and lack luster. He didn't want congratulations just then. He was still processing the revelation. The fact that everyone had seemingly just moved on from the shock of it helped not. He had found out he would be king not more than an hour ago. Since then the whole damned court has gotten good and drunk, has been dancing, singing and carrying on as if everything little thing in the world was as it should be. Yet to Orys Baratheon nothing could have been farther from the truth. The crushing responsibility that came with kingship was not something he took lightly. He would do his duty as his father had taught him but he feared how well he would be able to carry out his duty. Would he be a good king?

Turning back to his empty cup he called for more wine. The cup was refilled with the strong brew in mere moments. Another long sip to steady his nerves and the man that would one day be the future king fell into a brooding silence. His eyes drifted across the crowd of revelers. Nobles and lords, knights and ladies all dancing and enjoying the feast. He even spotted Davos dancing with a pretty woman he didn't recognize.

Davos however was not as carefree as he seemed to the crowned prince. No, in fact he was anything but. His mind and heart were at war with one another. Robyn wanted him to join her, to come with him but she didn't understand. Maybe she never did and never will.

"You're wrong lass."

He said sadly.

"I owe them everything, I owe him. Stannis raised me up. He gave me a future I could have never reached on my own, gave a future to my family I could have never given them. They have stability now, safety. They won't go hungry or wonder when the next supper will come, or if they will lose their husband and father to pirates or the city watch."

Davos sighed and stroked his beard.

"I did, we did what we did because we had no choice. Growing up in Flea Bottom what other options were open to us? But now my son squires for Lord Stannis, he'll be a knight one day. My wife dresses in finery she only ever dreamed of in Flea Bottom. We have a nice, squat keep in the Storm Land's that we call home. Is that what you want me to throw away? For what? So I can load up my son and wife on a cramped little boat under the cover of night and take off on the sea to do god's knows what for god's know who, putting them in constant danger? I don't want that for them any more than I want it for you."

His hands grabbed hers and their dancing stopped.

"Please, lass. You have a chance now. Take a ship and leave this mess behind, leave me behind. Forget about the old smuggler who gave you peaches, forget about Flea Bottom, forget about King's Landing. Forget it all and go live your life somewhere. I can't help you. I failed you already and now it's too late but you can still help yourself. Go across the sea, you're smart you can do anything you want. But don't do this, don't throw your life away."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Queen Tenanye Ananse Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Amelia Stormborn Character Portrait: Moloch Markus Character Portrait: Kenna Caitlin Character Portrait: Davina Mikaelson

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Orys could not help but stare at his friend, the king of Drake. His words had struck him like a slap to the face, a slap that shakes a complaining child from a tantrum. He was right, with the casual calm resolve that made Moloch famous he was right. While Orys had been sitting their whining like a boy he was a man that most of the kingdom looked up to. A warrior that had proven himself time and time again on the battlefield. A commander who had been able to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat when lesser plans were lost in the winds of chaos. A champion to the people and a hero to the realm yet above all these things he was a Baratheon.

While the Westerlands had it's Gold, the Reach had it's fertile soil or Drake had it's dragon bones the Storm Lands where the Baratheon's hail from have only one thing in abundance, strife. The Storm Lands have no gold or silver in it's stone nor nourishing soil with which to plant crops. It's land is unforgiving and bleak, a land of wicked storms and hard stone. It is as a direct result of this that the House Baratheon has produced such hardy and fierce men. From the first Baratheon, Durren Baratheon who slew a mountain god to claim his home and lady love, to Axel the Conqueror who united the whole of the South Pacific beneath the might of his armies to even his own uncle Robert, the war hero who fought to keep his throne and expel the traitors from his realm. He was from a line of conquerors, from warrior kings. Perhaps the blood of the stag bred not just strength in men but the ability to rule.

A fire sparked in Orys' eyes as his mind and heart filled with resolve and determination. Yet as Moloch spoke something he said gave the son of Stannis pause.

"But you will have to make difficult choices, Orys. Will you be willing to betray me if my enemies are more numerous and powerful than before? What if Queen Amelia rode out against me at Princess Kenna of the South Atlantic Kingdom? Would you join me? Her? Or will you find a way to dissuade her? Don't worry, though. No matter what happens, I will always consider you my friend."

Orys turned to Moloch and locked his gaze with his closest friend, the king and the future king.

"I have no brothers of my own Moloch, only a sister who is still a child. You have fought beside me, bled beside me, those are not things easily cast aside for the pretty smile of a woman. Amelia is my friend as you are but I would never stand against either of you. If she ever joined against you I would ensure it never came to bloodshed, you have my word on that. As for Kenna, or any of the others.... You are my brother now and always, in victory and defeat. By the Old Gods and The New I swear it."

Orys grasped Moloch's forearm and shook it firmly in friendship.

Oaths of friendship and brotherhood were being made by the royals but down below on the dancing floor where a smuggler twirled with a pirate danger loomed. Two knights wreathed in armor of sterling white and polished silver approached, putting a hand on either shoulder of the woman.

"What's the meaning of this, then?"

Davos asked in terror. One of the Knights of the King's guard scowled at him from behind his helm.

"This is no business of yours Onion Knight, this one is to come with us."

Davos was not about to let them just haul her off, his hand grasped hers and he clenched his fist.

"I am the sworn shield of Lord Stannis Baratheon of Storm's End, brother to the king, perhaps we should find out what his lordship thinks of this random arrest with no cause. This woman has done no crime."

The knights seemed ill moved.

"Tell your lord then, makes little difference. Our orders come from the Queen herself."

Davos' eyes went wide, he knew his hope was lost. At least for the moment. He looked at Robyn and he knew the look staring back at him, betrayal. She would no doubt see this as another betrayal but she would never see that he never wanted this. He had no way of knowing. He would have to find out what the queen wanted with Robyn and quickly if he had any hopes of saving her life. Davos begrudgingly released his hold on Robyn's hand and the knights led her out of the pavilion and up to the Red Keep.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Queen Tenanye Ananse Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Amelia Stormborn Character Portrait: Moloch Markus Character Portrait: Kenna Caitlin Character Portrait: Caliph Khaled ibn Tamim II Character Portrait: Davina Mikaelson Character Portrait: Ajax Alexander Character Portrait: Dalila Malyns Character Portrait: Ariana of Atlantia Character Portrait: Jasunr Alington Character Portrait: Mira Alington

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Western Desert
Caliphate of Andalusia


The Caliphs soldiers approached in the darkness, watching for any signs of treachery. As they drew closer the horses of the Drake men shied away from the camels, a common occurrence for camels are not only much larger than a horse but their smell is very foreign as well. Saheeb had drawn a small golden figurine from under his robes and now, as they halted a dozen paces from the Drake Knights he murmured several words to the figurine and tossed it to the sand.

In an instant the golden figure had seemingly melted into the sand and a woman’s figure rose, a sandy shape that walked forward several paces and then bowed most correctly to Prince Kallias. Then it spoke flawlessly in the Common tongue.

“Prince Kallias. You are most welcome to the Caliphate of Andalusia. The Caliph himself is aware of your coming and has asked me to direct you to Al Qasr.” The sand woman’s face was finely formed and almost beautiful in the moonlight that now washed across her. “These soldiers will provide you an escort to the Western Gateway where I will greet you personally. Until then my lord.”

The figure offered another bow and in an instant vanished into the sand again as if it had never been.


Sevilla
Caliphate of Andalusia


The knock on the towers lower door came as the sun was dipping on the horizon. The Caliph sighed and stretched his back as he listened to the exchange between the serving boy and the bodyguard. Farid was prized for his ability to do his duties quietly and without comment, a skill the Caliph prized in any servant but few could accomplish so well.

The General didn’t even glance up from where he was writing as the serving boy and a bodyguard appeared on the tower roof. The Caliph noted the look of amazement on the boys face and smiled to himself, he doubted the boy had ever been to the top of the Caliphs Tower before, the view was an incredible one.

A pot of steaming mint green tea was placed with two cups, then the boy bowed and backed away without a word, vanishing back into the tower with the bodyguard. Once the door had closed again the Caliph stood, stepping to the edge of the tower rampart and looking down over the city far below.

“We have built some amazing wonders in this desert land.” He said aloud and heard the General stand and made room for the other man to join him.

“Yes we have lord. It is no wonder they call this land the Jewel of the South.”

They were silent again until a sudden swirl of air made them both turn and a female shape formed itself before them. It bowed low to the Caliph who nodded in return.

“My lord Caliph, a Prince of the Drake Kingdom has crossed into our lands under the guidance of an Andalusian. One of our patrols has intercepted him. I welcomed him in your name and directed him to Al Qasr to await you orders.”

“Thank you Priestess. Please inform your sisters there that I will require a portal for myself by this evening. My personal regiment is also to transport to the city. We must greet this Drake Princling in the style I am sure he expects.”

“My lord.” The figure bowed again and vanished into nothing.

“A Prince of the Drake Kingdom…” The Caliph mused as he looked Westwards. “I wonder what mischief is brewing in the west to bring a man like this to our land.”


The South Pacific Kingdom

A woman moved through the crowd, a smile on her face that would have charmed the birds from the trees. She was shorter then the Western women by several inches but her beauty was undeniable. An hour glass figure, long black hair that fell to her waist in long curls, and slightly tanned skin that highlighted startlingly blue eyes.

She offered smiles to all and exchanged words with any who approached her. She bore no marks of a nation though it would be plain she was not a local, perhaps a citizen of the Triphate.

There was nothing sinister in her actions for all she did was listen, quietly marking everything she heard and saw. The alliances that formed, the word play between nobles, the glances and their implied meanings, all of it.

The Caliph had suspected that war might be in the offing and she was certain now that he had been right and that the lines were being drawn in the sand, and sides chosen. She knew well that the Caliph would not commit his own armies to any “White War” as he called them, but the Caliphate would eventually be affected one war or another.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orys Baratheon Character Portrait: Queen Tenanye Ananse Character Portrait: Captian Robyn Sheva of the Harbinger Character Portrait: Deacon Lesseth Character Portrait: Moloch Markus Character Portrait: Ariana of Atlantia

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#, as written by Arik223
It was a long day, a very long one indeed. Deacon was getting bored with the tourney, what kind of event is this without blood? Deacon smiled non-the-less, he knew how to put on a false face. The day was coming to an end and Deacon finally got the excitement he needed. Orys was crowned heir, this was a turn of events for sure. Orys was strong and brave, a worthy opponent in battle. Robert on the other hand, was old and fat. He wouldn't last a minute. Things were turning up. There was to be celebration afterwards, and Deacon would go home first to meet with Syrus about today's affairs. Unfortunately Deacon missed the captain, but it didn't matter, there would be time later. For now, they would go drink and meet kings and queens.

Deacon, Syrus and Leon entered the party a little late. People have already arrived that Deacon was expecting long ago. First order of business would be to congratulate the new heir to the throne, and maybe get a word or two with Moloch if times allows it. Deacon waved at Leon, and Leon pulled out an expensive bottle of wine from his satchel. Deacon held it in his hand and approached Orys. He was suddenly stopped by Syrus who motioned towards a lady in a red dress being arrested. He didn't have to say more, Deacon knew who she was. He nodded at Syrus and Syrus was on his way. Deacon approached the prince and respectfully bowed. "Fine showing today Prince Orys. I would like to congratulate you from the behalf of entire Fuarian lands, and present you with an ancient Fuarian wine. You will find that there is non other like this one." He looked at Moloch with a sinister smile, "King Moloch" he gave a short bow and then looked at the two new arrivals. Two strong queens, with their own perils. This could be exploited. "Ah Queen Tenanye and Queen Ariana, what a pleasure it is to finally meet the both of you." He bowed yet again. His damn back was hurting from all this nonsensical bowing. "My name is King Deacon of Fuaria, as I am sure you may have heard." Deacon was fully aware of who the two were.




Syrus made his way through the crowd, he didn't have his nickname for nothing, he knew how to hide and not be seen. He walked infront of Captain Sheva and made sure she saw him, he doubled back and hid in the crowd. He followed Captain Sheva and the guards up the red keep, this was a mighty stupid idea. If anyone would see him it would be an immediate declaration of war. Two guards he could kill and no one would realize, but things got a little complicated when the queen stood right there. Sheva made her own escape, dropping both guards to the floor in an instant. Deacon made a right decision recruiting her, she would be a very strong ally. Syrus wouldn't make any rash movements, he stayed far enough to not be seen, but close enough to hear what they would say.