Haven't forgotten about you all. Just been very busy. The holidays and busier work load to save for Christmas. I will try and get out another post concerning Three Corners. As for Aerion, I will post after the GM post, and write him in where it makes most sense.
Abefroeman
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The only solutionis msg and salt in the soup. Yum yum. If need be, I'll modify that section once home.
I am on me phone right meow. I apologize for any sort of errors.
awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Milk_of…
This link describes the affects of Milk of the Poppy. In the section "About" it says it can put people to sleep, even if they are in great pain.
Hope that is acceptable.
awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Milk_of…
This link describes the affects of Milk of the Poppy. In the section "About" it says it can put people to sleep, even if they are in great pain.
Hope that is acceptable.
@Abefroeman Indeed, it accelerated some of my plans but it falls in line nicely.
I apologize for the expiditing of said plans. My humble apologies. Glad that you like it though... I will ask next time, in order to prevent such an event from happening again.
@MrDidact Posted for the Golden Tooth/Westerlands section. I hope it's groovy, and if you like it, gives you an opportunity to introduce some new characters.
The Golden Tooth, a celebratory dinner...
Dinner was coming along nicely, each dish being cooked to Lady Myrielle's exacting specification. She hummed softly as she drifted between stations, tasting this dish and that, complementing the cooks and their helpers. She smiled brightly as she tasted a particularly delectable dish of grilled lamb, before moving on to decide what drinks would be served to their guests. Her movements were graceful and seductive at the same time, as Myrielle seemed to glide through the pleasantly warm kitchens. To the kitchen staff, their new lady was a welcome and enjoyable change from the Lannister's of until recent.
Lady Cerenna too was present in the kitchen, helping her sister in law with the final food prep and tasting, as well as engaging the staff in polite conversation about anything that they needed to improve their jobs within the kitchen. The two women laughed and traded kind words among each other and the staff. The air had a pleasant vibe to it, as well as the intermingling scents of delicious food. Unbeknownst to either of the House Lefford ladies, a special ingredient had been added to the pork and vegetable soup that was to be served tonight. The young man quickly disposed of the three large earthen ware containers, before returning to his assigned duties of bringing the scraps to the livestock.
Now, it was time eat, to drink, and to enjoy pleasant conversation between guest and host. The food was brought forth, along with drink and a single lutist, the middle aged man sporting a fine leather doublet with a red metallic pin over his heart. What was more a surprise was to the delight of all, a large jug of vintage Arbor Red was found deep in the wine cellar, and twas Myrielle herself who found it. She poured the first cup to her husband, and then another to the honored guest, Ser Vikary. With joy in their eyes, and hope in their hearts, everyone began to eat the served dinner.
As the host and guests dined inside, a lovely lady made her rounds about the castle and it's fortifications. She smiled and chatted, all the while ladling out hot fresh soup to the guards on duty. Each guard happily took the warm meal, glad to have something to warm them up on this deceptively chilly night. No doubt the soup would be served soon inside, but more importantly was to ensure the loyal guards to both House Lannister and Lefford were well fed. The young lady finally finished her rounds, wishing the last group of guards a wonderful night, before she disposed of the bucket and ladle, and made her way to the livestock pens.
Dinner was delicious, with good wine to help wash it all down. The music was soft and pleasing to all in attendance, the middle aged man surprisingly skilled, even to Lord Lorimer himself. He had finished his second helping of soup, the taste almost seeming to be invitingly addicting. No doubt the cook was rather skilled, and he would need to bee rewarded. Lorimer looked at his lovely wife, smiling at her before stifling a rather large yawn. To his surprise, it seemed the yawn was infectious, for soon all were yawning and rubbing their eyes. He chuckled a little, turning to speak with Ser Vikary, when the music changed, from the warm happy tune to a slow and sad one. One he had heard many a time in stories of old. Yet, such a realization was too little too late. As Lorimer tried to fight off the creeping spectre of exhaustion and sleep, the dramatic melody of the Rains of Castmere lulled out from the lute.
The lutist put his instrument down, smiling inwardly to himself. "Milk of the Poppy, sleep well my patron and your guests. The Red Lion desires to speak with you all." He turned to the waiting staff members who were in cahoots with the Reyne Lord, speaking gently, as though not to wake a child asleep at night. "Bind them all. No killing. Hostages are off no use to our Lord if they are dead. Besides, this Lefford fellow and his family are good people. Bring them all, the guards too, to the great hall. Our Lord shall meet them there one they have awoken. Run along, I must continue to serenade our lovely guests to the Red Lion." With that said and done, the musician picked his lute back up, and continued to play, while his associates hurried to bind their captives and begin moving them to the great hall.
Dinner was coming along nicely, each dish being cooked to Lady Myrielle's exacting specification. She hummed softly as she drifted between stations, tasting this dish and that, complementing the cooks and their helpers. She smiled brightly as she tasted a particularly delectable dish of grilled lamb, before moving on to decide what drinks would be served to their guests. Her movements were graceful and seductive at the same time, as Myrielle seemed to glide through the pleasantly warm kitchens. To the kitchen staff, their new lady was a welcome and enjoyable change from the Lannister's of until recent.
Lady Cerenna too was present in the kitchen, helping her sister in law with the final food prep and tasting, as well as engaging the staff in polite conversation about anything that they needed to improve their jobs within the kitchen. The two women laughed and traded kind words among each other and the staff. The air had a pleasant vibe to it, as well as the intermingling scents of delicious food. Unbeknownst to either of the House Lefford ladies, a special ingredient had been added to the pork and vegetable soup that was to be served tonight. The young man quickly disposed of the three large earthen ware containers, before returning to his assigned duties of bringing the scraps to the livestock.
Now, it was time eat, to drink, and to enjoy pleasant conversation between guest and host. The food was brought forth, along with drink and a single lutist, the middle aged man sporting a fine leather doublet with a red metallic pin over his heart. What was more a surprise was to the delight of all, a large jug of vintage Arbor Red was found deep in the wine cellar, and twas Myrielle herself who found it. She poured the first cup to her husband, and then another to the honored guest, Ser Vikary. With joy in their eyes, and hope in their hearts, everyone began to eat the served dinner.
As the host and guests dined inside, a lovely lady made her rounds about the castle and it's fortifications. She smiled and chatted, all the while ladling out hot fresh soup to the guards on duty. Each guard happily took the warm meal, glad to have something to warm them up on this deceptively chilly night. No doubt the soup would be served soon inside, but more importantly was to ensure the loyal guards to both House Lannister and Lefford were well fed. The young lady finally finished her rounds, wishing the last group of guards a wonderful night, before she disposed of the bucket and ladle, and made her way to the livestock pens.
Dinner was delicious, with good wine to help wash it all down. The music was soft and pleasing to all in attendance, the middle aged man surprisingly skilled, even to Lord Lorimer himself. He had finished his second helping of soup, the taste almost seeming to be invitingly addicting. No doubt the cook was rather skilled, and he would need to bee rewarded. Lorimer looked at his lovely wife, smiling at her before stifling a rather large yawn. To his surprise, it seemed the yawn was infectious, for soon all were yawning and rubbing their eyes. He chuckled a little, turning to speak with Ser Vikary, when the music changed, from the warm happy tune to a slow and sad one. One he had heard many a time in stories of old. Yet, such a realization was too little too late. As Lorimer tried to fight off the creeping spectre of exhaustion and sleep, the dramatic melody of the Rains of Castmere lulled out from the lute.
The lutist put his instrument down, smiling inwardly to himself. "Milk of the Poppy, sleep well my patron and your guests. The Red Lion desires to speak with you all." He turned to the waiting staff members who were in cahoots with the Reyne Lord, speaking gently, as though not to wake a child asleep at night. "Bind them all. No killing. Hostages are off no use to our Lord if they are dead. Besides, this Lefford fellow and his family are good people. Bring them all, the guards too, to the great hall. Our Lord shall meet them there one they have awoken. Run along, I must continue to serenade our lovely guests to the Red Lion." With that said and done, the musician picked his lute back up, and continued to play, while his associates hurried to bind their captives and begin moving them to the great hall.
Posted the Dorne/Red Mountains Section, still have much more to produce.
The Spine, The Vulture’s Roost, Ser Uther and the Demon
The sudden change of the man before Ser Uther, the turning from man into beast, into a creature from nightmares and half-forgotten stories. The molting flesh, clothing, and armor clung to this beast’s new frame like some horrific joke of the former humanoid form. Still, such shock, the surprise and utter chaos of a sight lasts only for so long, for when the beast lashed out at Ser Uther, its claws rended a painful set of slashes across Uther’s face, tearing his chainmail coif from his head and sending the metal rings clinging and clattering across the stones. That moment was to Uther as though he had fallen back into his own body, finally able to control his own limbs and mind once more.
“Ahhh… bla… ssteeddd… bloody Seven…. Gawhhahah” Ser Uther cried out as he fell backwards onto his posterior. Blood oozed out from his facial would as Uther scrabbled backwards like some unsettled crab, scrapping his hands as he tried to put distance between himself and this chaotic abomination before him. The beast let out a blood curdling screeching roar as it was attacked by that young alchemist and his flaming sword, along with Ser Uther’s commander, Ser Andrew. Uther looked on in horror as the beast snatched the alchemist by his neck with its’ tail, the powerful hunk of sinew and flesh throttling the youth as the beast turned back to glare menacingly at Ser Uther.
Then his right hand found the haft of a discard spear, the ashwood almost calling out to his hand. Uther quickly recoiled upwards to his feet, and with a mighty heft, hurled the spear into the beast’s abdomen, eliciting a fiercesome roar of pain and challenge. Uther could see that the scored hit was but an inconvenience for the beast, as it quickly snapped off the spear’s haft, throwing the wood away. Ser Andrew was still recovering from being batted away, and with no other means of escape, Uther grabbed up a broken sword, holding it menacingly towards the beast. Perhaps it was his fear and own mind playing tricks, but Uther could swear that the beast laughed at him, its noise full of derision and mirth.
The beast and Uther charged one another, the alchemist still held firm in the beast’s powerful vicelike tail. Uther could see that the youth would not last much longer unless he did something, but that distracted moment allow the beast to score two quick hits in succession, across Uther’s chest and swinging arm. The broken sword found flesh too, only to be batted aside like a child’s plaything to the beast. The pain was intense, like a burning fire atop Uther’s body, as he recoiled back, sidestepping another vicious attack from the beast’s claws. Just then, Ser Andrew let out another cry of challenge, momentarily distracting the beast from its quarry. Uther took that moment of respite to snatch up a discarded halberd from a dead Vulture, shaking the dead man’s grip loose from the weapon.
Uther, without noise or regard for his own safety, slashed downwards with the weapon, aimed straight for the beast’s tail. The cut was clean, the steel blade crashing down upon the fleshy tail in a gout of blood, sparks, a falling alchemist, and a pained roar of great anger from the beast itself. The beast quickly rounded on Uther, turning its hateful gaze upon him, yet Uther was ready, knowing and seeing what he had to do. Uther ducked under the certainly mortal blow of the beast’s claws, before charging with all his might and strength, to impale the beast upon the blade of the halberd. Uther took the haft with both his hands, shoving it with all his might, before releasing one hand to grab the remains of the spear still imbedded in the beast. He let loose a cry of anguish, the beast raking its’ claws across Uther’s back, before freeing that broken spear and driving it deeper into the flesh of the beast itself.
The two remained locked in a painful melee, Uther pressing forward, the beast off-balance, as the two careened towards the gaping chasm of the castle lifts that led down to the docks below. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was divine intervention, but as the beast stepped back, it lost its footing, slipping in a pool of collected blood and pulverized dust, a mucky slush of slippery filth. The beast fell back, holding onto the exposed doorway with both its powerful claws, its beady eyes staring daggers of icy hate at Uther. Uther himself spat out blood, before taking a fallen standard from the ground, leaping into the air, and driving the pole into the beast’s chest. A cry of anguish leapt from the beast’s lips, and that of Uther, as he was slashed by the beast’s claws.
Both man and beast let out a fiercesome howl of defiance, as together they tumbled into the blackness of the lift shaft, their cries echoing upwards as they both fell the long way down to the bottom.
The sudden change of the man before Ser Uther, the turning from man into beast, into a creature from nightmares and half-forgotten stories. The molting flesh, clothing, and armor clung to this beast’s new frame like some horrific joke of the former humanoid form. Still, such shock, the surprise and utter chaos of a sight lasts only for so long, for when the beast lashed out at Ser Uther, its claws rended a painful set of slashes across Uther’s face, tearing his chainmail coif from his head and sending the metal rings clinging and clattering across the stones. That moment was to Uther as though he had fallen back into his own body, finally able to control his own limbs and mind once more.
“Ahhh… bla… ssteeddd… bloody Seven…. Gawhhahah” Ser Uther cried out as he fell backwards onto his posterior. Blood oozed out from his facial would as Uther scrabbled backwards like some unsettled crab, scrapping his hands as he tried to put distance between himself and this chaotic abomination before him. The beast let out a blood curdling screeching roar as it was attacked by that young alchemist and his flaming sword, along with Ser Uther’s commander, Ser Andrew. Uther looked on in horror as the beast snatched the alchemist by his neck with its’ tail, the powerful hunk of sinew and flesh throttling the youth as the beast turned back to glare menacingly at Ser Uther.
Then his right hand found the haft of a discard spear, the ashwood almost calling out to his hand. Uther quickly recoiled upwards to his feet, and with a mighty heft, hurled the spear into the beast’s abdomen, eliciting a fiercesome roar of pain and challenge. Uther could see that the scored hit was but an inconvenience for the beast, as it quickly snapped off the spear’s haft, throwing the wood away. Ser Andrew was still recovering from being batted away, and with no other means of escape, Uther grabbed up a broken sword, holding it menacingly towards the beast. Perhaps it was his fear and own mind playing tricks, but Uther could swear that the beast laughed at him, its noise full of derision and mirth.
The beast and Uther charged one another, the alchemist still held firm in the beast’s powerful vicelike tail. Uther could see that the youth would not last much longer unless he did something, but that distracted moment allow the beast to score two quick hits in succession, across Uther’s chest and swinging arm. The broken sword found flesh too, only to be batted aside like a child’s plaything to the beast. The pain was intense, like a burning fire atop Uther’s body, as he recoiled back, sidestepping another vicious attack from the beast’s claws. Just then, Ser Andrew let out another cry of challenge, momentarily distracting the beast from its quarry. Uther took that moment of respite to snatch up a discarded halberd from a dead Vulture, shaking the dead man’s grip loose from the weapon.
Uther, without noise or regard for his own safety, slashed downwards with the weapon, aimed straight for the beast’s tail. The cut was clean, the steel blade crashing down upon the fleshy tail in a gout of blood, sparks, a falling alchemist, and a pained roar of great anger from the beast itself. The beast quickly rounded on Uther, turning its hateful gaze upon him, yet Uther was ready, knowing and seeing what he had to do. Uther ducked under the certainly mortal blow of the beast’s claws, before charging with all his might and strength, to impale the beast upon the blade of the halberd. Uther took the haft with both his hands, shoving it with all his might, before releasing one hand to grab the remains of the spear still imbedded in the beast. He let loose a cry of anguish, the beast raking its’ claws across Uther’s back, before freeing that broken spear and driving it deeper into the flesh of the beast itself.
The two remained locked in a painful melee, Uther pressing forward, the beast off-balance, as the two careened towards the gaping chasm of the castle lifts that led down to the docks below. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was divine intervention, but as the beast stepped back, it lost its footing, slipping in a pool of collected blood and pulverized dust, a mucky slush of slippery filth. The beast fell back, holding onto the exposed doorway with both its powerful claws, its beady eyes staring daggers of icy hate at Uther. Uther himself spat out blood, before taking a fallen standard from the ground, leaping into the air, and driving the pole into the beast’s chest. A cry of anguish leapt from the beast’s lips, and that of Uther, as he was slashed by the beast’s claws.
Both man and beast let out a fiercesome howl of defiance, as together they tumbled into the blackness of the lift shaft, their cries echoing upwards as they both fell the long way down to the bottom.
If y'all have a character in the Stepstones, hop on the pad, shit's going down.
Blast my work schedule. When do you plan on posting? I won't be able to do much until Friday/Saturday. (I have written a post outline for Ser Uther and for the Lefford post). If you need to post asap, feel free to puppet my characters til I can get some free time.
(I wonder how hard writing a post on a phone would be?)
@MrDidact Say no more boss man. I moved them about to be married to Landed Knightly houses, and having relations to the lesser branches of the Lannisters, mainly the Lanny's, Lanntel's, and Lannet's. Also a betrothal to the Spicer's, since they are an upjumped family as well.
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