Welcome to You Awake in Westeros Quest – Trick Edition. In this quest we follow our hero, Velo, as he tries to survive and thrive in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire. Last thread, Velo made it to King's Landing, bet thousands of gold upon the jousts and commissioned himself some swanky arms and armor.Now, he limps back to the Iron Stag successful, but wounded. Character Sheet: http://pastebin.com/uTnPBM61https://discord.gg/NqtKF (Lasts 24 hours)http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Westeroshttps://twitter.com/TrickQM
Rolled 42, 364, 388, 411, 64, 213, 101, 55, 169, 229, 43, 380, 13, 183, 54, 286, 290, 268, 272, 17, 140, 60, 417, 110, 188 = 4757 (25d420)>>456673Oh shit nigger, it's autist quest back at it again with the stale velo.
You stumble into the Iron Stag's common room, slamming open the front door accidentally with your left shoulder, setting the stag head mounted upon the wall to shake precariously. The innkeep examines you with wide, scared eyes that quickly find and focus on your bloodied arm. The right sleeve soaked red due to your perilous trek from the rank flea bottom street you had found yourself in.“Find Raina and Mills,” you order the bald man. “They're sleeping in the two rooms at the far back on the left side of the third floor.”Whether the man actually believes you or just doesn't feel like arguing with the bleeding stranger yelling, you don't really care. He does as you say, sliding out from behind his counter and rushing up the stairs. You lean against that man's varnished counter with your non-bloodied limb while you wait for your companions to arrive. The momentary rest is pleasant. The sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs fills you with relief. Raina has the decency to gasp while Mills simply swears under his breath. Raina wears a simple nightgown while Mills is in just a pair of tan-brown breeches, his hairy chest on full display.Your never-to-be baby momma rushes forward and examines your arm, before being distracted by the bruise on your face followed immediately after by the lump at the back of your head. She touches it gingerly as she whispers 'poor baby' under her breath. The hand is gentle and does not send the wound to throbbing painfully again.“Ya got fokked up, Will!” Mills decides, folding his arms and grimacing. “I know that Mills. Stabbed and beat. Now listen,”>Have Raina help take care of you here at the Iron Stag>Have Raina go find Tyrion>Have Raina find a healerAND>Send Mills off to find Tyrion and get him to come here>Send Mills off to find a healerAND>Something else? (write-in)
>>456727>>Have Raina help take care of you here at the Iron Stag>Send Mills off to find a healer>Something else? (write-in)velo needs a fucking drink!
>>456727Have Raina treat us while Mills goes and finds a healer.
>>456727>>Have Raina help take care of you here at the Iron Stag>Send Mills off to find a healer>Something else? (write-in)Velo the fag needs a fucking drink!
>>456727>Have Raina help take care of you here at the Iron StagGet some pressure on it. Clean towels, etc.>Send Mills off to find a healer
>>456727>Have Raina find a healer>Send Mills off to find Tyrion and get him to come hereWe need to figure out if someone knew about this or if it had been mentioned. Could also ask the little lord how you go about NOT getting mugged.
Rolled 15, 58, 25 = 98 (3d100)Roll me 1d100 +10, best of 3. This is a healing check.
Rolled 66 + 10 (1d100 + 10)>>456777oh boy time for 1s
Rolled 49 + 10 (1d100 + 10)>>456777
Rolled 30 + 10 (1d100 + 10)>>456777
Rolled 89 + 10 (1d100 + 10)>>456777100 here
>>456798off by one how cucked can a man get
>>456800I'm legitimately killing myself right now, goodbye.
Rolled 59 + 10 (1d100 + 10)Bad roll here
Shouldn't be too hard of a thing for healers.I mean, cuts were pretty much 70% of the healers used to deal with back in the olden times.It's really the treatment of diseases that was often questionable.
“Mills, I want you to go out and bring a healer here to the inn.”“How good?” Mills asks.“The best. Raina, take me upstairs so we can treat me as best as the two of us can manage.”Both your companions nod their heads. Mills goes upstairs to fasten his armor and Raina guides you to her room. She has you wait by the door as she fluffs pillows and guides you to a sleeping position – laying a fresh, wet, clean towel down for your head to rest.You gingerly slip into bed while Raina pulls a chair up to inspect your stab wound.She squints her eyes at it while wringing out a wet cloth she recently dipped into a bucket of water. “Oh . . . you'll be fine,” she says with a wave of her hand. “I've seen cat fights that have ended up with wounds worse than this.” “I might have a concussion,” you bring up.“Do you have a headache?” Raina asks, examining you.“My head is fucking killing me,” you complain.“Vomitting, dizzyness, nausea?” she provides a list of symptoms.You shake your head vigorously. “No. I . . . probably don't have a concussion.” Raina gestures for you to put your arms up over your head and she helps strip you out of your shirt as gingerly as possible. She bundles the garment up and throws it into the corner. A cold, wet towel is placed upon your bruised cheek to keep it from swelling too much while Raina stands up. “I'm going to get some needles to sew up the wound.” she informs you, opening a chest of drawers next to the wall and rummaging through it. “Bring me one of the bottles of fine wine I keep in my room,” you tell her.“To pour on the wound?”“No, so I can have a fucking drink.” . . .Some of your personal bottle of wine is wasted being poured on your stab wound, you clenching your teeth in pain at the action. Afterwards, you take a good swig of it. It tastes sweet and good and provides a great distraction from the heated needle piercing your flesh to stitch your meat back together.“You've done this before?” you inquire, slightly concerned.“Not on humans!” Raina states with a cock of her head as her steady hands continue their work. A few moments of silence pass.“Hey Raina . . .” you call out her name..“Hmmmmm?” she answers, distracted by her work.>I want you to keep the kids>Let's fuck>What did you do for a living back on Earth?>Any plans with your money?>Something else? (write-in)
>>456901>What did you do for a living back on Earth?>Any plans with your money?
>>456901>I want to keep the kidsI mean... it could be ours... or something, but kids...>Any plans with your money?
>>456901>>I want you to keep the kids>What did you do for a living back on Earth?>Any plans with your money?We got a fucking 100 and a 69 on the kids. There twins, so no point killing the babies.We got the money keep the kids, if they from us. If not we kill them when there born.
>>456673This shit is still going?
>>456901>I want you to keep the kids>Any plans with your money?I don't care about her past life.
>>456912She seemed pretty adamant for the abortions when she found out. If she doesn't want them it'd be kinda fucked up to force her.
>>456927Well we got the gold, for kids. We could just leave them with other people
>>456901>I want you to keep the kids>What did you do for a living back on Earth?
>>456930Whats the point then tho? I mean I do agree it's a waste but if you're not even going to raise them and pawn them off on someone else that's also a waste.Just a shitty situation really. Mom doesn't want them. Even though they aren't people might think they are Tryion's which could cause drama. Not even going to raise them cause we are constantly being 'Save Westeros' prophet.Shitty situation.
>>456944The point is not kill the babies. The babies are fine. We shouldn't kill them
They'd be born bastards due to being born out of wedlock and due to Westerosi law, they could not inherit without being legitimized.
“What did you do for a living?”“I went to college,” she explains.“Studying what?” She simmers for a bit before sighing out. “Art,” she answers. “But I'm not stupid, alright. I learned other skills too. Like stitching up wounded cats.”“How many cats did you have?” you inquire, curiously.“ . . . Six.”“Jesus!”“I have a needle here that I could stab you with,” she comments dryly.“Fine fine. No judgment or comment here. What's your plan with the money you have from all the betting?” you ask to make further small talk.“I dunno . . . try to make more money with it? Perhaps open up a shop and paint. Actually make money with my skills recreating famous paintings from the real world.”“That's . . . not a horrible plan, if you have the ability.”“I dooo~” she says in a singsong tone as she finishes her last stitch. She bites the thread with her teeth and pulls to break it. “Looks like you're all better!” She playfully pats your upper arm, causing you to wince slightly in pain.Your head still hurts and your face is hot and swelling despite your continuous changing of lukewarm wet towel for cold wet towel. So you'd say you're a far cry from 'all better'.As Raina is putting away her supplies a knock comes at the door. Your companion opens it to let enter a fully armored Mills and an older gentleman. The healer strides in irritably, probably because he got woken up in the middle of the night by an annoying and aggressive South African. He walks to your bedside and sits down, examining you without asking your name or what happened. Right to business, you guess. He doesn't even inform you of anything, just looks you over like you were a slab of meat.“You need two weeks of bed rest, and then you'll be fine,” he eventually diagnoses once he is satisfied with poking and prodding you. “The skin on the face isn't broken, your head wound is barely bleeding and your arm is stitched. I can provide you with milk of the poppy for 500 silver stags, if you require.”>Take the drugs>Thanks, but no thanks >Something else? (write-in)
>>456991take the drug
>>456991>Thanks, but no thanks
>>456991Ask him if he's got any medical alcohol.Like for rubbing into wounds to hasten the healing.
>>456991>Something else? (write-in)>>Take the drugsThe drugs are only for the immediate, I don't want us two weeks hooked on this stuff.We got shit to do in the two weeks of resting.Also see if he can better treat the wounds.
>>456991>ask if he can do something to accelerate our healin
>>456999Oh yes, most definately. At the very least, get the alcohol because you never know when you need a molotov.Also, to a dying man that's worth more than 10 castles.
>>456992>>456998Take the drugs >>456993Don't take drugs>>456999>>457003>>457008Ask him about hastening the healing process
>>457011>Don't take drugs
>>457011Don't do drugs, kids
Wounded or not, we're still going to the tourney right?
>>457017Fuck yeah we are. We still got to bet in the last day of the tourney get that mad cash.
>>457019We don't actually need to be there. We just need to tell Tyrion to bet on the right guy for us.
>>457022Well we want to make the most money. So We give some money to Tyrion and use some money on brokers, if they agree.
“I'll take the milk of the poppy for tonight. Do you have something that may burn out the infections in the wound so I may heal faster?”At the question the medicine man grimaces and goes to his bag which he carrie swith him. He rummages through it before pulling out two jars filled with red, pale ointments and placing them on the nightstand. He points to one.“This is firemilk,” he explains. “A week's worth will cost 225 silver stags and it may reduce your recovery time by one week if rubbed in the wounds.” He points to the other jar. “This one contains Myrish Fire. A week's worth will cost you 700 silver, but it is more potent and more effective if you fear infection. I will warn you, the pain is so excruciating you will be too weak to leave your bed.”He also hands you a vial of milk of the poppy, to drink tonight to dull your pain.>Buy a week's worth of firemilk>Buy a week's worth of Myrish fire>Buy nothing
>>457027>Buy a week's worth of firemilk
>>457027>Buy firemilkrecovering fast is good and all but we need to be able to leave our bed
>>457027>>Buy a week's worth of firemilkWe want to do shit in the week, like write plays or read some books.
>>457027>firemilkmiddle ground I guess
>>457031or draw up sketches and plans for shit we might need
>>457034Anything is better than sitting on our ass not doing anything.
>>457036and yet here you are, sitting on your ass not doing anything but playing a stupid game of make believe.Does it make you feel sad knowing the characters you create are infinitely more productive and useful people to society simply because they do not partake in the hobby you do which creates them?
>>457037Who says I'm sitting in my ass? I'm doing lots of things that need to get done. I got to get the crops ready to be harvested.
>>457037speaking of I think we need to introduce D&D to Westeros :^)
>>457037To be perfectly fair, I'd just keep the wounds clean with alcohol just for comfort reasons as it's guaranteed to work and won't leave you in horrible agony.
>>456991>She simmers for a bit before sighing out. “Art,” she answers. “But I'm not stupid, alright. I learned other skills too. Like stitching up wounded cats.”Damn. I was so hoping for vet, easily the most useful training for healing in a pre-modern society. Between my gf, the vet, and myself, the ED doctor, she'd be a better asset 9/10>>456950They're not babies, m8, they're useless trouble-causing parasites. Kill.
>>457115[Muffled 'Crawling' playing the distance]
“I'll purchase the firemilk.” The man nods and picks up one of the jars, placing it back in his bag. You shell out the gold dragons required to pay him for the drugs and his expertise, a little extra added on to the final cost due to calling him out here so late at night. He tips his hat to you as he exits, wishing you a speedy recovery. Raina takes a brush and dips it into the crimson, oily substance. She applies it to your stab wound first, between the stitches knitted in your flesh. It stings like dozens of fire ants nipping at your wound. The feeling is even worse – amplified by the proximity to your vital brain – when she rubs some of it on the back of your skull. The headache worsens, but the feeling of being cleansed is immense as you imagine the burning sensation to be an eradication of all the things unclean and dirty about the affected areas. Sounded a bit like Melisandre there for a second, you think jocundly in your head. Afterwards, you ingest the vial of Milk of the poppy and feel your eyes flutter and droop as the biting, itching, burning pain fades away into . . . nothingness. Sleep comes easy then – like you're dozing in warm milk, sleeping upon floating clouds in the sky above.. . .Singing bluejays rouse you from your slumber. You start to shift in your bed only to realize there is a great weight attached to your side, wrapped round you. Raina grumbles and squeezes you tighter at your jostling, only semi-conscious. Eventually you dislodge yourself from her iron grip and swing your legs over the side of the bed, rising up to your full height and stretching. You look out the window. It seems to be late morning. Shit.You rush to the doorway, trying to shake the woozy hangover of the drugs out of your bones. Opening the door reveals Tyrion, wide-eyed with his hand raised as if he was about to knock. Behind him stands Bronn and Chiggen.“Oh . . . Will!” the dwarf exclaims. “Mills informed us you were stabbed and beaten. You look . . . relatively alright considering that occurrence.”“Robbed on the way back to the inn?” Bronn asks with a perturbed look on his face.You nod. “Yeah. Managed to get the money back and gut the fucker who did it though.”Bronn nods his head. “Shame.”“Shame?” you ask incredulously. Bronn seems like the last person to regret the loss of life. “Chiggen, yourself and I all were attacked yesterday. A hard coincidence to sell, don't you think?” he presents rhetorically. “Easiest way to figure out who the fuck's behind it would be to interrogate the slimy fucker, but . . . maybe I could still go around Flea Bottom and knock some heads. See what that turns up.”“Yes,” Tyrion comments awkwardly at the mention of violence. “Well, regardless of any head knocking issues . . . Will, are you well enough to come watch the last of the tourney with me. I would appreciate your company watching my brother joust the Clegane brothers.”
>Yeah, I can make it to the tourney>I'll stay here and recoverAND>Bronn, go knock some heads>Bronn, go knock some heads but take Chiggen with you>Bronn, don't go knock some headsANDSomething else? (write-in)
>>457127>something elseBet our money in the tourney
>>457123>Yeah, I can make it to the tourney>Bronn, go knock some heads but take Chiggen with you
>>457127>Yeah, I can make it to the tourney>Bronn, go knock some heads but take Chiggen with you
>>457123>Something else? (write-in)I've got a plan. Maybe we can figure out who was watching us make the bets and then make him squeal.
>>457127>Bronn, go knock some heads but take Chiggen with you>Yeah, I can make it to the tourney>>457125Not everyone's fallen for your American pro-life rubbish buddy
>>457137Like, we make some bets, see who rushes out to make the same bets, then we follow that guy and use pear of anguish on him or something to get him squeal.
>>457133This and >>457132Use brokers and Tyrion.>>457127
>>457145What are you talking about? Europe was better pro life shit than the states. Most have a limit nothing over nine weeks in some countries. But in the states some states you could wait one day before the baby is out.
>>457145>There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface. Consuming, confusing.~
Daily reminder abortion is only okay when its low income niggers preventing more crime-prone monkey babies from roaming the streets.Daily reminder abortion is not for stuck-up, middle-class, selfish, lazy white women to shirk their feminine duties and feel empowered because they have abandoned child-rearing -- the sacred, eternal duty of the female.Writing!
>>457155spoken like a true /pol/tard!
>>457155Now Trick is making sense. Well good night
We should get our clothes washed before we go to a tourney. Is this high class enough establishment that we could have the room service do that for us or do we need to charm the innkeeper's daughter to do that?
“Yeah, I can make it to the tourney. Bronn, if you're going to bust some heads, bring Chiggen with you. I'll be sticking close to Tyrion so I don't need much protection.”Tyrion chuckles. “Goodie. A Dwarf for armor, William? Well, I'll wait for you to dress yourself. Hurry if you can, the joust will begin soon.” Chiggen and Bronn depart while you put on your entertainer's clothes seeing as your noble's clothes are currently bloody and a bit unsightly. You nudge Raina awake and she grumbles about no longer having a toothbrush here in Westeros.. . .Eventually the two of you – accompanied by Mills, Tyrion, Morrec and your trusty hound Millennium – are riding at an easy canter out the King's Gate. You reach the same spot you were sitting at yesterday in the stands as Ser Jaime Lannister and Sandor Clegane prepare for their tilt at each other. Tyrion uncorks a bottle of his personal wine and you share a cup between the two of you as well as Raina. Unfortunately for Mills, he is forced to watch with the commoners and stand next to your dog who . . . for some strange reason he has come to dislike. More than once you've had to chide him for attempting to kick the poor pooch. Joffrey begins regaling Sansa downwind of you with the deeds and accomplishments of his 'dog' and his uncle the Kingslayer. He is sure, no matter who wins this bout, one of the two will take the ultimate win and the tourney prize. A few rows in front of you, Littlefinger stands up proudly and announce a proclamation. “500 gold dragons on Ser Jaime Lannister. A dog never bites the hand that feeds it!” He chuckles and receives a few parting laughs from some of the surrounding viewers at his jest.>Say nothing>I'll take that bet Lord Baelish>Make it 1000 gold dragons and you're on!>Something else? (write-in)
>>457202>Make it 1000 gold dragons and you're on!
>>457202>Make it 1,000 gold dragons and you're on!ind4 what we say to Jaime make us lost the 1,000 gold :^)
>>457202>I'll take that bet Lord Baelishworry.jpg
>>457202>I'll take that bet Lord Baelish
>>457202>>I'll take that bet Lord Baelish
This smells fishy.Sandor would throw a fight in he was paid enough right? He wouldn't care about his rep losing to Jamie.And you guys have been winning a lot so things might have changed or people are watching you to see who you bet on.Food for thought.
>>457202>Say nothingWe told Jamie we'd cheer for him. Bros first man
>>457233Of course it smells fishy, but at the same time, it's a relatively safe bet.If we take that bet and the result is different, we've got a suspect.I take this as 500g for information.
>>457233Isn't the winner of the tourney supposed to make way more than 1000 dragons?
>>457233He wants a chance to go at his brother though.It's one of the few ways it's legal to kill him.
Rolled 80 (1d100)“I'll take that bet Lord Baelish,” you call from above, waving to him. He turns round and a smug smile graces his lips, although his eyes remain so absolutely . . . cold. Tyrion beside you grimaces. Littlefinger mimics a sigh. “How unfortunate. It seems the bard with an eye for winners bets against me. I offered the stakes and you called, so unfortunately it would be poor form to rescind my claim, despite how sure I am now that I have chosen poorly. Well, at some point or another we all lose. Yet . . .” a predatory gleam comes to his eyes. “To think Tyrion Lannister himself would bet against his elder brother is preposterous. You'd never bet against Ser Jaime, would you?” The question is pointed and fierce, a verbal thrust.Tyrion's face curdles, bringing wrinkles to his already squashed features. “Never,” Tyrion whispers like a shade. “I always have faith in my brother.”“Well a man in your employ has just bet against him,” Petyr explains loudly like the conclusion is simple. “A man I believe has some acute skill at gauging a joust. William's impressions are enough to sway me. 1000 gold dragons on Sandor Clegane's victory! Will you call that bet, Lord Imp? Or does your faith not reach your deep, deep pockets?” The dwarf's fist clenches. He forces his face to remain neutral, despite the building anger you can feel radiating off his body in waves. A few tense seconds pass in the stands as Jaime and Sandor mount their respective steeds. “Of course I won't call that bet, Littlefinger,” Tyrion admits sadly in defeat.Jaime and Sandor pick up their tourney lances. Littlefinger begins to speak. “A shame tha –”“I'll double it!” Tyrion spits.“Deal!” Baelish responds instantaneously.The flag is waved and the jousters barrel down the lists.
>>457277I hope that's the roll for our boys shaking up the town.
>>457277Baelish is a smart motherfucker
Rolled 63 (1d100)Sandor Clegane, with a tabard depicting three black dogs upon a yellow field, and Ser Jaime Lannister, gilded in golden armor with a tabard depicting a yellow lion upon a red background, urge their horses onwards at each other. As the distance between the two riders rapidly closes and the building sound of galloping hooves seems to boom in your ears you can't help but feel tense. You aren't precisely sure who you want to win at this point. You feel your teeth clench and grind against each other like you're Stannis Baratheon with the tension hanging in the air like a knife.Tyrion merely whispers indecipherable gibberish – to your ear – under his breath as his eyes are glued upon Jaime. Littlefinger won't even sit down, tapping his foot anxiously.The two titans of combat close upon each other and . . . . . their lances crash into each other's shields. Jaime's almost sends Sandor soaring from his horse, but the younger Clegane barely manages to hold on. Jaime seems much less affected by Sandor's tilt as they ride past each other.Tyrion sighs out. Littlefinger looks back and grimace slightly, but doesn't seem to have lost all hope yet.Jaime and Sandor's lances have both splintered. They pick up two fresh new lances and prepare for the second pass.
The two riders come at each other a second time. Clegane's snarling hound helmet an intimidating ornament compared to Jaime's regal lion helm. They charge down the lists and . . . Jaime Lannister takes a lance to his shield again while his own lance rides up into the helmet of Sandor Clegane.The force of the blow is so discombobulating Sandor falls backwards off his horse, the gigantic man flipping end over end as he crashes loudly into the dirt. Jaime Lannister remains ahorse and while the crowds do cheer his victory, none do so more than Tyrion. He jumps to a standing position atop the seats of the spectator bench and yells triumphantly – a veritable Lion's roar.Petyr seems frozen stiff. He casts a glance back at the Imp, who, upon locking eyes with the Master of Coin, refuses to give Petyr respite.“Seems my faith in my brother will be rewarded, Littlefinger. From your very not so deep, deep pockets.”“I guess no man is right every time,” Littlefinger comments plainly as he retakes his seat.Ahead of you, you hear Sansa remark sadly that she was sure the Hound was going to win the joust. Jaime removes his helm and waves to the crowd proudly, his chest puffed up. As the hype dies down and sobriety returns to the stands, Jaime Lannister and The Hound retreat to their respective positions as Kingsguard member and loyal bodyguard. Up next . . . Ser Gregor Clegane versus Ser Loras Tyrell.The giant 8ft man begins his preparations with the monstrous, black stallion he plans to ride while Loras Tyrell brushes his snow white colored mare's mane. You know how this next bit proceeds.>Don't interfere>Interfere in some way (how?)>Something else? (write-in)
And I'm done for the night.
>>457299>Something else? (write-in)Tell Tyrion we were amazed that bluff worked...totally according to plan.Don't bet this time
>>457299>discretely whisper to Tyrion about Loras' fate>ask for his imputremember, he'll get pissy with us if we don't
>Something else? (write-in)We should whisper Tyrion that the Hound's gonna try and kill Loras after losing.
>>457299Is the hound still in a fit state to stay his brothers hand before the flower boy gets himself killed? Maybe we should let Tyrion make a fuss
>>457312Meant the mountain
>>457314If we end up not interfering at least don't bet on the cheaty fucker
.....Shit.....oh no.... We should tell Tyrion that Loras may be about to be murdered by the mountain. Act like we literally just had the vision.Tell him if Loras beats him the mountain will try to murder him after killing his own horse
Oh shit I just remembered, we should check if that other better from Earth won or lost money from that joust
>>457349We don't know if he's from earth.
>>457349He could be the first bookie we fleeced.
>>457351we'll find out I guess
>>457362or we won't. Could be he slips from our grasp entirely.It's possible the other guy making the bets got attacked as well and he's after the same guys as us.
>>457367I could be the other guy is Isaac from the Velo thread.
>>457381Could be.He did get attacked as well.
>>457367I bet that was Isaac, time to kill him for good?
>>457385Eh, I dunno. It could be more advantageous if we could get him to join us. Like everyone already thinks he is a spy. If it was discovered that he's a spy from House Shakespeare, that would certainly give us credibility. We could say that it's time for him to retire from service and just enjoy life.
>>457385why kill him. We could recruit him
>>457396Because Velo is ashamed of his sins to QMing and decides to remove his power fantasy alt personality forever
>>457304Actually, don't say anything, just wink.
By the way, do we have our sword with us?I say we throw that to Loras the moment the mountain starts to decapitate his horse.
>>457299>Interfere in some way (how?)have the Hound be on stand by nearby, since he lost he'll try to go away and drink, but he has to fight here and save the fag's life>Jaime removes his helm and waves to the crowd proudly, his chest puffed up. Is this a result of us telling him he's more than a kingslayer?i'd like to believe it is.
>>457525>have the Hound be on stand by nearby, since he lost he'll try to go away and drink, but he has to fight here and save the fag's lifeDoubt that'll be enough given the unexpected lance to the head.I vote discuss w/ Tyrion but still try to profiit from the fight.
>>457304>>457315Brag that your bluff worked>>457307>>457312>>457321>>457336>>458351Tell Tyrion Loras is in danger>>457310Don't interfereWriting!
Fear and concern grip you by the throat and throttle you harshly. If Jaime won that joust – whether due to your pep talk from yesterday or some other contributing factor – that means the rest of the events of the tourney could be altered heavily. Sandor stalked back to his place by the Crown Prince, but from the sullen expression on his face you aren't entirely sure anymore if he's going to stand up to Gregor. The last two semi-finalists mount their horses.Leaning into Tyrion, you whisper your concern. “Ser Gregor is going to lose the joust due to a clever ploy of Ser Loras's.” Tyrion squints before whispering back. “You're sure?”“1,000 gold dragons on Ser Loras!” Littlefinger declares. “Mountains may ride but flowers grow atop them.” Lord Jason Mallister laughs. “Make it 2000 Baelish. I won't let the Imp be the only one to swindle you out of your coin.”Baelish shrugs. “I will be begging on the streets by nightfall.” Tyrion scowls. “Alright, I'm sure. What of it?”You sigh. “Gregor grows angry because of the trick. His temper gets the best of him and he slays his horse before attacking Ser Loras.”“Gregor does have poor impulse control. Does the Tyrell boy die? My father would have Gregor's head for starting a conflict of that magnitude.” “Loras survives, but only due to the Hound's intervention. But the future I saw –”“Had the Hound defeating my brother in the joust before. And you think the loss might cause Sandor not to step in?”“It's possible. Do you wish to risk Gregor Clegane causing friction between the Reach and the Westerlands?”“No, he's caused enough between The Westerlands and Dorne as it is. But there isn't much I can really do, William. Unless you want me to jump in and stop him.”A second of silence comes between the two of you as Tyrion's eyes shift to the form of his brother, dutifully guarding the King.“I could ask my brother to intervene. A finer knight has never lived and he'll listen to me. Yet . . .”“Yet what?” you inquire.Tyrion gulps. “There is a saying, I am sure, of men who try to move mountains.”>Convince Jaime to intervene >Don't>Something else? (write-in)
>>459395ask him to give a warning to Loras to be very careful and not drop his guard after the tilt.
>>459395>Something else? (write-in)"Robert got pissed and stopped the fight before it lasted very long. Maybe we can just yell at Loras to run towards us as the Mountain kills his horse?"
>>459395>Don'tDon't worse happens if your brother dies. If fighting begins. We'll have to try something else
>>459395>Convince Jaime to intervene
>>459395>>Convince Jaime to intervene
No don't risk Jamie, don't do it. We need him on side. It's not worth the risk. Throw rose boy a sword while the mountain kills his horse but don't risk a lion
>>459395I'll change my vote here >>459467 to this >>459476Throw him a sword if shit gets hairy.
Vote called.Writing at some point who knows.
>>459395>Something else? (write-in)"Maybe we can throw him a sword when Mountain is busy killing his mount.""Mounted knights have advantage over dismounted ones."
>>459561Not when the Dismounted one is taller than the Horse by a more than would be fair margin.
>>459566The advantage is that of mobility. Horseman doesn't need to let a footman to hit himself.
>>459594Dude the Mountain's sword has "THIS KILL THE HORSE" engraved on it.
>>459395I know I'm a bit late but I say Loras mad his bed and he can dam well sleep in it.
Rolled 16 (1d100)“Get your brother to intervene,” you almost order the dwarf. Thankfully your social better doesn't take offense at the urgency of the request. He leaps up and begins waddling across the stands, thankfully too short to obscure the view of the audience from the now galloping knights.It's clear even now that Loras's ploy is working just as it did in the novels. Gregor is struggling with his unruly black stallion that he can barely control. Loras, meanwhile, charges smoothly down the field on his mare. You spare a glance towards Tyrion and see he has made it to his brother. Jaime Lannister leans forward and listens intently to Tyrion's words. The Kingslayer glances at the still occurring joust and nods once in recognition, although he continues to speak with his brother.The two jousters meet while The Mountain is still struggling with his lance and shield. Loras's weapon perfectly strikes the center of Gregor's breastplate and doesn't even break as he rides by.Gregor falls down in a crash of horse flesh, steel and mass. The cheers of the crowd are so loud for the triumphant pretty boy knight, who raises his visor and waves elegantly to the crowd in his post-victory trot, that many people don't hear Ser Gregor's shout as he rises back to his feet.“SWORD!” you faintly hear Gregor's outcry of rage and watch as his squire comes running. Tyrion points out the Mountain's actions to his brother, who stares at the scene from within his ornate lion helm. When Gregor unsheathes his massive six foot greatsword from the scabbard the frightful boy attending the knight has brought, Jaime says one final word to Tyrion and then begins running down from the King's place of honor towards the tourney field.“WHERE ARE YOU GOIN' KINGSL –” King Robert's demand is halted as the scream of Gregor's horse silences the audience. You watch blood spurt and drip from the neck of the black beast, nearly beheaded in one blow. It collapses loudly to the ground in a SLUMP. Sansa gasps, as do others. Joffrey sits up and looks forward intently. Loras glances over his shoulder towards the ugly noise. His mare trots nervously in place. Jaime has descended from the stands to the lists as Gregor begins stomping towards The Knight of Flowers, his rage apparent even if his visage is hidden behind his great plate helm. The slit used for vision too narrow for you to get a glimpse of the giant's eyes from your position.He hefts his sword in two hands over his shoulder – even though you know he can hold it in one.“Stop!” Jaime declares, drawing his own gilded longsword.Gregor shows no indication of listening to the son of his liege lord, his anger too blinding – clouding any judgment the dim man might have.Even at a large, imposing height himself – being roughly 6ft 2 – Jaime is dwarfed by Clegane's eight foot frame. It looks to be a real David and Goliath situation.
>>459669POST MORE NOWQUICKLYTHE SUSPENSEIS KILLING ME
>>459767He's maimed Jim.
>>459772I"M GIVING HERALL SHES GOTCAP'N
>>459669My god this is too intense.It might be your best update so far, trick.
Gregor moves forward. Jaime raises his plain white shield – the only signifier of his status as a member of the kingsguard, save for the matching cloak – and prepares himself, shifting into a fighting stance. The minute movement is all it takes to set Gregor off. Viewing Jaime as little more than an obstacle in his path, he swings his mighty sword in a flat arc.Jaime jumps back as he braces his shield to block the blow. Jaime is possibly the best swordsman in the land, but even with the skill to properly stop a sword, the power coursing through the Mountain's trunk-like arms proves too great for a mere metal shield to blunt.The force of the strike sends a roaring THRUM coursing from the impact as the shield crumples and Jaime is flung to the side, sprawling into the dirt. He rises to his feet still, not letting the setback throw off his mind as it did his body. Kneeling on one knee he raises his sword and prepares to be sent to the grave the way a warrior should – steel in hand. Gregor raises his weapon over his head for an overhead smash to permanently deal with the gilded, golden annoyance.Cersei stands and screams, Tyrion gasps. King Robert has a slack look on his face, confused.The Hound, however, has already barreled across the list. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!” he rasps at his elder brother. The sound of his sibling speaking actually seems to attract Gregor's attention. Instead of bringing his sword down upon Jaime, The Mountain brings it around his body to clash with Sandor's own thrusted blade.The two large men's weapons bounce off each other and as Gregor prepares his next attack, Robert finally finds his voice.“STOP THIS MADNESS IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!”Sandor drop to a kneeling position under Gregor's half-hearted swing, stymied by the King's proclamation. It seems Robert's booming voice finally draws him out of his aggressive fugue. You watch Gregor's helm fix itself upon King Robert's person. You can see the Mountain breathing heavily, his gigantic frame shaking, boiling with rage. He drops his sword with an audible THUNK and begins storming off back towards his squire, metal boots stomping through the tourney ground dirt. Barristan moves forward, hand on the hilt of his sword. King Robert places a meaty mitt upon Selmy's shoulder, halting him from pursuing the retreating knight.“Let him go,” Robert simply says. “SOMEONE GET PYCELLE DOWN HERE TO LOOK AT MY BROTHER-IN-LAW'S ARM!”This shout is much more commanding and even in tone as opposed to Robert's last outburst.Tyrion has run down the stands to where Jaime now sits in the dirt. Cersei, for all the love you see in her eyes for her lover, has the sense of tact to stay by Robert's side during the whole ordeal.>Go to Jaime>Skedaddle>Stay where you are?>Something else? (write-in)
>>459804>Stay where you are?
>>459804Go to Jamie
Visit Jaime with Tyrion actually.
>>459804>>Stay where you are?>>Something else? (write-in)Play something to lighten the mood, maybe Bowie's Heroes.
>>459816Stay where you are>>459826>>459831Go to JaimeWriting
>>459804>Go to Jaime
You stand and make your way down the stands towards Tyrion, leaving Raina all by her lonesome.You cross into the lists towards the two Lannister brothers. Loras has pulled his horse around and dismounted. He kneels behind Jaime and helps Tyrion with undoing the fastenings on the left shoulder of The Kingslayer's golden plate. The white shield lays dented. crumpled and useless on the ground. Sandor has stalked back off to guard his charge once more. “Good job, dog. You saved my nuncle,” Joffrey congratulates his pet. Jaime rips his helm off with his right arm and tosses it across the tourney ground, the lion tumbling through the dirt. “Gods damn that stupid . . . violent – hurry up, Tyrion!”“I'm sorry, brother,” Tyrion apologizes honestly. “I have never been squired, so I am not familiar with how to undo plate.”“Don't worry, I'll handle it,” Loras offers as he finishes getting the pauldron off of Jaime. He gently sets the golden shoulder guard down. You finally make it to them and kneel beside Tyrion.“Are you alright?” you ask.“No,” Jaime darkly mutters, as he studies you. “My arm is broken.”“Are you sure, brother?” Tyrion inquires.“Yes, I'm sure!”“I apologize I should have never –”“Quiet! I am more upset the brute bested me. You hear that, boy?” He speaks over his shoulder to the youthful knight now working on removing the couter. “You win the final joust by default. I can no longer compete. For quite a few months, I'm afraid.”Loras laughs. “Do not worry, Ser Jaime. I believe I have some idea of what transpired. You may have saved my life by halting Ser Gregor. I forfeit the final joust. You may take the winner's purse.” “I am painfully aware gold will not restore dignity or reputation lost,” Jaime comments ruefully. “I guess I'll give the winning purse to Clegane. I owe him my life, I suppose. Tyrion, send our father a letter detailing which dog needs be beat and which should be rewarded with a good bone. Maybe he can inspire some sense in that man's head.” As the last piece of armor comes off you see a very large bruise on Jaime's upper arm. Looks like there might be some internal bleeding as well.Pycelle finally manages to shuffle his boney, decrepit ass down to the tourney grounds and shoos you all away.You and Tyrion awkwardly look at each other.>What now? (write-in)Also I'm playing pokemon go for the rest of the night so no more updates for a while.
>>459922>What now? (write-in)Get a practice spear and get to work
>>459922>go to some inn>speak privately to Tyrion about what we saw>>459930can't, for a week remember?
>>459922>ask tyron how to invest our money>ask tyron if we can land a job as royal bard
>>459922>What now? (write-in)Makes sure our woman is still about, number 2 regather the party. 3 joke to Tyrion about pycelles fake issues. Ask Tyrion what it would take to have red keep quarters
>>459932fug, you're right, we should still buy one though>>459934Supportan
>>459934i guess this too
>>459922>ask Tyron how to invest our money>ask Tyron if we can land a job as royal bard>Buy some books of about skills, like spear fighting, or something else. Also write a play
>>459922Ask if Tyrion can look after our money while we recover. Read a book about navigation and try to get in touch with Davos Seaworth or the master of ships in general and try to inquire what the price of ships is nowadays.
>>459930>Practice spearYou mean a stick?
>>459930train while injured>>459932Speak privately to Tyrion about what you "saw">>459934>>459939>>459943>>459951 (plus purchase books)Ask to invest money as well as be royal bard>>459936stuff
>>460104I'm voting>Ask Tyrion for help investingMaybe mention some modern inventions to him and get his advice. Inventing in the printing press could make us seriously rich. >Ask Tyrion for help landing a job as a royal bard>Attempt to befriend Jaime and Tommen
>>460131Seconding, especially the inventing printing part
“So Tyrion,” you ask as you re-enter the stands. “What would be a good investment for my money?”He eyes you curiously. “I would suggest gold mines, but I believe my father would run you out of business rather quickly and if not that, it would end up a bad investment for your . . . health.”“Might I suggest brothels?” Petyr asks as he approaches you both heaving a heavy, purple velvet sack clinking with coins. “I apologize for eavesdropping, but I want to settle my debt with the Lannisters now rather than later. Here are 2000 gold dragons, container courtesy of Lord Jason Mallister.” He throws Tyrion the sack of coins, before turning to you. “Of course if you would like to invest in one of my pleasure houses – seeing as you're already giving me 500 gold dragons.”“Let's make it simpler,” Tyrion speaks, tossing the bag back to Lord Baelish. “Take 500 gold dragons out of that sack and you can give the rest to my friend William here. I only wished to humiliate you. William can rob you or fund you, whichever he wishes.”Petyr gives you an appreciative look. As he does so, Pycelle has managed to get Jaime's broken left arm into a sling. Jaime is brought back to a standing position and the announcer for the jousts comes out to declares him the winner of the competition.Ser Loras and Jaime clasp hands, Loras enthusiastically raising their hands up to promote the crowds cheering further. Jaime even convinces the Hound, after some aggressive urging, to come forward as well for the crowd to commend him too and his brave defense of Ser Jaime. “Alright, enough cheering for a joust that didn't even happen!” King Robert announces. “On to the archery field!” As people begin to file out of the stands to watch the shooting competition, you contemplate and muse over Lord Baelish's offer.'>Invest in Littlefinger's brothels for 1500 gold dragons>Invest in Littlefinger's brothels for even more money than that! (how much?)>Invest in Littlefinger's brothels for 1500 gold dragons and he owes you a favor>Invest in Littlefinger's brothels for 1550 gold dragons and he has to ensure you will be named the royal bard>Nah, fuck off Littlefinger>Something else? (write-in)
>>460200>ask for more details first>what does this investment entail exactly
>>460200>Nah, fuck off Littlefinger"Sorry, I've had bad experiences with brothels."
I say we get a ship.
>>460200>>Nah, fuck off Littlefinger>Something else? (write-in)A fucking ship, also some books and shit since we have to rest for a week.
>>460213Be a polite fag when we tell him to fuck off
>>460200>Invest in Littlefinger's brothels for 1550 gold dragons and he has to ensure you will be named the royal bard
>>460222For some reason that option I tagged 50 more gold dragons onto the bribe. Eh, whatever
>>460222I don't think being a royal bard is particularily a safe occupation.
>>460228Well It is a usefull and influent position,probably the best one we can get right now
>>460230True that, but it's also a deadend and has a risk of us pissing off the royal family if we have to leave without them being ok with it or if we say something wrong.With the current royals, I'd rather not risk it.
Rolled 24, 7, 100 = 131 (3d100)“Unfortunately Lord Baelish I have had a few bad experiences with brothels recently,” you politely decline. “Yes I heard,” he replies, smiling and handing you the bag. Your eyes narrow a bit as you grip the soft, velvety texture.“From who?” you ask.“Oh, from Chataya. She told me you came into one of my establishments seeking employment and turned down quite the offer. To think 2 gold dragons a day was too poor an offer for you. I fear what plans you must be hatching to earn yourself more financial gain at faster a pace than that. I do hope you aren't planning to clean up at every tourney. King Robert loves his contests, but they are not held so often you hope to make your fortunes that way. Especially if your luck continues like this. Regardless – I will keep my eyes out for your business ventures, my friend.” He bows deeply to you and then takes his leave at that moment. Only Littlefinger could make you feel like you lost while holding 1500 gold dragons in profit in your hands.You and Tyrion eventually make your way to the archery field and watch as those competitions occur.You manage to convince enough lords to bet against your pick for the winner – Anguy – that when the boy manages to defeat Jalabhar Xho and Ser Balon Swann at 100 paces you find yourself 3000 gold dragons richer.However, when it comes to the grand melee to close the tournament, only after you've bet roughly 1,500 gold dragons on Thoros of Myr to take the victory do you discover an interesting bit of information that . . . surprises you.It seems that Mills signed up to join the melee last night and he will be competing along with 39 other men to take the grand purse of 20,000 gold dragons.He gives you a friendly wave as he mounts his horse and gallops to the starting area. You are left to watch in abject horror at whatever occurs in the next . . . you believe the melee took three hours to finish in the novels.Well, here's hoping the fool doesn't get himself killed.
>>460234Where going to bet his opponent
>>460234>100Mill the madman win it all.All the 20,000 gold dragons, you blonde hair warrior you did it.
Any niggas with a good plan on how to make mad dosh after the tourney?
Clearly Mills got a combat build, the mad man.
>>460234Surely he doesn't know sword fighting¿ Maybe he is a secret ninja
You, Raina, Morrec, Tyrion – hell, even Millennium the dog understands how crazy this is on some level – watch in abject horror as the melee begins and Mills immediately rushes into the fray with his horse, screaming his damn, fool head off.He charges some knight and smacks him over the head with a blunted tourney blade. The victim falls off his horse and is forced to yield under a barrage of smacks as Mills screams South African obscenities at the poor boy. Eventually Mills realizes he's won that particular bout and moves on to the next knight to savage with his weapon. This continues as the melee goes on for another hour and a half as well as another seven combatants – each one putting up more of a struggle than the last, but all of them eventually yielding to the screaming South African. At this point you're watching in pure awe. Mills is a chaotic whirlwind on the battlefield.Finally it comes to the last two fighters left standing – Thoros of Myr, his sword alight with green flame and Mills the ornery South African. Mills takes one look at Thoros's weapon and spits on the ground. “Fok off you're flaming shit doesn't scare me.” The ensuing clash of longswords lasts for two minutes of conflict, before Mills ends up kicking Thoros's horse with his boot. The beast rears up at the discomfort and throws the fat Myrish red priest to the ground in a heap of red silk robes. The foreigner raises his hands and laughs jovially at being bested, surrendering gracefully rather than continuing on against the onslaught of a beat down sure to follow.The spectating crowds go up in a cacophony of sound as they cheer for your bodyguard. Your little group also finds itself screaming at the top of their lungs for his victory. He raises his sword high in the air and takes in the praise. Even with the niggling though in the back of your brain about losing out on 1500 gold dragons you still can't help but feel happy for his success.When Mills whips out his dick to piss out the wildfire on Thoros's sword, King Robert's distinctive jolly laugh adds to the noise as a noticeable undercurrent.“Now there's a fucking warrior!” He bellows praise for the brutish act. “That man can have a seat at my fucking table tonight.”When Mills finally escapes from the throngs of adoring fans and lords of various ranks offering him jobs and positions on their forces, you hug him tight. “I bet 1500 gold dragons the man you beat was going to win!” you yell mock angry in his ear.He laughs uproariously. “The fok you doing betting against me?”“I didn't know you were competing!” He sputters his retort, as if that explains it all away.“Well I bet all my money on me at ten to one odds. I just made 3000 more gold dragons off winning!” He cackles. “See ya at the feast tonight, Shakespeare.”
After purchasing a new noble's outfit for a gold dragon to replace your bloodied one, you arrive at the feasting grounds for the second and final night of the tourney. Jaime, Tyrion and Raina sit together, chatting with the Hound.Mills speaks with Ser Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon, the King's own brother.Chiggen and Bronn are here even, way in the back talking with Anguy – the man who won the archery competition. At the same time Morrec, Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr are getting wasted together, drinking deep of their cups while feeding your dog scraps from the table.>Go to Jaime, Tyrion, Raina and the Hound>go to Mills, Loras and Renly>Go to Chiggen, Bronn and Anguy>Go to Morrec, Beric, Thoros and Millennium>Talk to someone else at the feast (who?)>Fuck this feast, go to sleep>Something else? (write-in)
>>460273>Go to Jaime, Tyrion, Raina and the Hound
Last update of the night.Voting stays open until I run again.
We should go ask Mills what his plans are next as well.
>>460273>Something else? (write-in)Begin thrashing out hard party music, time to impress the crowd
>>460273Let's go rustle the hound's jimmies. Also find out how the Fuck mills beat a bunch of trained fighters. Damn now I wish Robert had fought
>>460273>>go to Mills, Loras and RenlyAWEH BOETEK IS DIE SHIT BRU EK HET AL DIE MENSE GEFOK
>>460273>>Go to Jaime, Tyrion, Raina and the HoundThese three, then Millls Loras and Rnly later
>>460285This, most definately.
>>460273>>Go to Jaime, Tyrion, Raina and the Hound
Rolled 25 (1d100)better than 6 please
Rolled 95 (1d100)>>460408rolling for oral ability
>>460273>Go to Jaime, Tyrion, Raina and the Hound>>460279>>460285Also these
You make your way to Tyrion and the people he's dining with at the feast. Jaime wears a crimson silk tunic embroidered with a golden lion. He also wears a crimson cloak and a leather jack as well as a white, cloth sling wrapping his broken left arm.Meanwhile The Hound digs into his food ravenously while Raina fixes him with a dreamy stare that every now and again Sandor looks up, acknowledges and then awkwardly goes back to his food. “So how long will you be out of commission, brother?” Tyrion asks his elder sibling as you sit down and grab a bowl of crab leg soup.“Pycelle says a few months,” Jaime relays as he spoons spotted dick into his mouth.“Are you taking milk of the poppy?” “No. I prefer the pain to the dulling of the senses.”You aren't sure if you agree with that sentiment, feeling the burning itching sensation from your arm and head due to the recent application of firemilk. Thankfully it is less intense than yesterday, but you think you may have worsened it by boiling some of the wine you bought and drizzling it over the wounds just to be extra careful. “Well,” Tyrion continues the conversation. “You will have to recover quickly. The Warden of the East is a demanding position.”Jaime rolls his eyes at the mention of his newly gained position. “I despise that fucking title. I don't even live in the Vale.”“Narrow Sea runs up and down the entire east side of the country.”“And I live on the Western side. And what happens when father passes? Will I be Warden of the West too? I'll have to be on both sides of the Kingdom simultaneously.”“As well as Lord of Casterly Rock,” Tyrion tacks on, bemused. “I will foist one of these burdens upon you, little brother. Mark my words.”“That won't please Cersei~~” Tyrion practically sings, biting into a biscuit slathered in jelly. Jaime scoffs. “Cersei is never pleased. I could be The Warden of the North and South as well and she would merely ask why I am not ruling the Kingdom yet.”“If you rule, she rules,” Tyrion says plainly.
“Do you two ever shut up?” The Hound inquires gruffly, raising his face from his lamb stew, garnished with carrots, peas and basil.Tyrion and Jaime look at each other and laugh at the burned man's insulting question. Sandor then rounds on Raina, still staring at him.“What are you looking at?!” he finally demands of her impolite behavior.“Uhhhhhhh, you,” she answers lamely.“Well stop!” he growls. “Or I'll rip your eyes from your fucking skull.” Jaime chuckles and slaps the large man on the shoulder, directing Sandor's fury towards himself. Jaime doesn't look the slightest bit uneasy at being on the receiving end of Sandor's anger.“Please, let's keep this feast civil. No more bloodshed. Tell me Clegane, what do you plan to do with the money?” “Depends,” Sandor spits. “Your father executing my brother?” Jaime sighs out. “I do not believe so. Chastised, stripped of some boon, denied some appointment. But –”“My brother is too useful a butcher. I'll find something to spend the gold on.”>Comment on the previous exchange (what do you say?)>Bring up another topic of discussion (what?)>Play music>Go to another table and speak with someone else (who?)>Something else? (write-in)
>>461896Play music, bring the beats to westeros. Otherwise just before we start tell Jamie and Tyrion we'll be rocking out.
>>461905How about instead of being fucking boring we try and start some decent conversation with some of the most powerful people in the kingdom.
>>461896>>Something else? (write-in)Take a giant shit right in front of them.
>>461924How about we ask Jamie if he needs a Squire? If during his recovery time he can teach us some stuff to keep the boredom at bay,
>>461896Pay Kate Bush's hounds of love for sandor and raina
>>461939>>461927Proxy fags go Shitpost elsewhere
>>461957I just came in here. Go fuck yourself.
>>461938backing because he could teach us thing and that's good, also Tyrion won't get mad at us for it.
>>461938He is one of the best knights around, he has his pick of squires, why tyre Fuck would he take on a bard with a spear?
>>461995Because we told him we know he's much more than a kingslayer.And we literally have the ballest gear to be his squire literally have "madnest in Great ones must not go unwatched" on our armor.We can be the most badass duo ever and try to save KL and Westeros.
>>461995Because he's in recovery mode. I don't want to be a Squire we are helping him nor get bored and learning so tricks while we're at at. Also by tailing him we mentioned people including maybe Tywin
>>462005But we are shit at fighting!
>>462013All the more reason to side with a badass fighter who can teach us shit while he's wounded.
>>461927this is a good idea. sign me up
>>461896Play some swanky stank tunes
>>462025>>461927>>461939>proxyfag realisze suddently that he has to at least post two time with and ID before getting his vote counted
>>462034>It's not a vote I like>Better call him proxyfagKill yourself.
>>461905>>461957>>462028>>462031 (Proxy)Play music >>461927>>461939 (Proxy)>>462025 (Proxy)Take a giant shit>>461938>>461968 Be Jaime's squirePlay music wins.
>>462043>>461966>>461927>can only use his real IP to replyMy point stay right there
>>461896>Ask to become Jamie's squire.Literally anything other then fucking wasting this opportunity by playing music cause some of you nerds aren't creative.
>>462046>proxyIts aristo goddamnit I wanna play some swanky stank tunes
You play some music.>Comment on the previous exchange (what do you say?)>Bring up another topic of discussion (what?)>Go to another table and speak with someone else (who?)>Fuck this feast, leave>Ask Jaime to be his squire>Shit on the floor>Something else? (write-in)
>>462053>Ask Jaime to be his squire
>>462049>tripfagging in someone's questYou can fasely accuse me of being a proxyfag all you want, but you're the real attention whore here.
>>462053>Shit on the floor
>>462053Ask Jaime to be his squire, play some stank tunes for him too
>>462053>Ask Jaime to be his squireHah. Pacha, Trick.
>>462053>>Shit on the floor
>>462055>not using trip to identify yourself accross the quest discord and the thread.You're the real pleb here
>>462053>Bring up another topic of discussion (what?)Their opinion of the StarksBring it up subtly of course
>>462056Sounds good senpai desu
>>462061>identify yourself across anything on 4chanAttention whore. Plain and simple.
>>462068come in a quest>shitpost and ask to shit on the floor.>call people attention whoresome real cognitive dissonance here
>>462053>Comment on the previous exchange (what do you say?)Well we could comment on that it's really damn hard to get the mountain executed with the whole trial by combat being a thing. You'd have to risk some really competent men in that fight.
>>462049>>462056>>462063>Attention whore's face when he was wrong>>462071It's a meme quest. Nobody in their right mind gives a flying fuck. Just look at you: you're giving a fuck.
Guys, you do realise that being a squire means we'd have to be constantly attending him.I don't care what we do, I don't want to sacrifice all our working hours on jaime. It would make it impossible for us to deal with our objectives.
>>462080Therefore we should take a steaming shit on the floorLet it air a bitGive everyone some time to thinkIt'll be good.
>>462080A squire isn't a servant.We'd deal with his weapon and armor (which he'll not use because he's injured).We'll maybe drink wine with him and sing him stuff but we're not gonna be there 24H a day 7 days a week.Even he need some room to breath he's not the kind of guy to be supre reliant on people like Tyrion is.
>>462087>A squire isn't a servant.They sure as hell are. They have to attend their knight's every need and constantly be there to service them. Have you even watched/read GoT?
Ok so let's ask Jamie for some basic lessons so he won't go mad with boredom, once that's done say we are going to go socialise. Play music and mingle, maybe even seek out varys? This is our best chance to catch him
>>462054>>462057>>462058>>462072Ask Jaime to be his squire>>462056>>462060>>462063Shit on the floor>>462062Ask people their opinions on the Starks>>462074Point out trial by combat>>462094>They have to attend their knight's every need and constantly be there to service them. Hot! New husbandoAnyway, asking to be Jaime's squire barely beats out taking a shit on the floor. Rolls coming soon.
Roll me 1d100 + 16, best of 3. This is a diplomacy check.
Rolled 88 + 16 (1d100 + 16)>>462107
Rolled 48 (1d100)>>462107
Rolled 100 + 16 (1d100 + 16)>>462107
Rolled 20 (1d100)>>462107nat 1 baby
Rolled 31 (1d100)Oh god please don't make us into a squire.
Rolled 34 (1d100)>>462107
>>462115we squire nao
Rolled 3 + 16 (1d100 + 16)test
>>462053Voting against asking to squire, shitting ourselves and playing more music.We definitely need to use this opportunity but I'm not as charming as our badass protag so ideas on building rapport with Jaime's hard for me. I vote...>Talk warfare with Jaime - try to boost our Knowlege warfare by chatting with 2 experienced warriors and a smart midget. Warfare stories are also a bonding experience and we can even work in the opportunity for Raina to appropriately flatter the Hound, she clearly wants him. Meanwhile we can offer some sincere flattery tooward Jaime and try to boost our relationship with him.
>>462115>>462102Well fuck, that's what I get for typing slowly.
>>462127thisinb4 being called a proxyfag
>>462164>>462111No, I think the attention whore learned his lesson.
>>462170>continuing a senseless debate 20min laterjust Stfu dumbass, you voted to shit on the floor.
>>462175>still this salty he was wrongwew lad.
What does being warden of the east entail anyway? Can he fuck with little finger or sweet robin? Maybe if we squire for Jamie we can visit Dragon stone with him and secure some Dragon glass for husbando benjen
>>462181>Still salty enough to post randomly 20 min later>call people salty for replying 1 min laterLiterally autism
>>462187Indubitably my fine chap.
>>462187*tip my fedora*Welcome to the club, friendo.
>>462186Basically, that would make him the liege lord of the Vale. It would mean he should be doing the job Lysa should have been doing, but didn't do and he'll find it mighty hard to do when he's not in the Vale, seeing that he'd have a lot of disgruntled lords who think Lannisters killed Jon Arryn.In addition to this, he'd have to deal with the mountain clans as well.
“Ser Jaime,” you speak up after you've played a skillful song for your friends to enjoy while supping. “I was wondering. Do you have a squire?” Jaime furrows his brow as he drinks deep of his goblet. “No, I do not. Usually the King's Guard is too busy protecting the royal family to spend time training squires.” “That's a shame,” you comment. Jaime laughs. “You wish to squire under me?”Tyrion mockingly pouts. “Stealing from me again, brother?” You sigh. “I desire to learn how to fight and training with the greatest swordsman in Westeros would bring about the best results.”Jaime shrugs. “Due to my injury I'm unfit to go about my regular duties safeguarding the King. So for the next few months I have time to take on a squire to train. I can't promise to train you forever, however. Would be nice to get some practice using only one hand in a fight. See how much that throws me off.”You try your best to hide the snicker threatening to emerge from your throat. “When do you think I can start? I need at least a week to recuperate from an injury I suffered yesterday. But after that . . .”Jaime looks inquisitively into the night sky, littered with foreign stars. “Whenever you deem it appropriate will be fine. Ride by the Red Keep and tell the guards at the gate to send me word that William . . .” “Shakespeare!” you inform him.“That William Shakespeare wishes to see me and I will train you in whatever you wish. True swordsmanship – not whatever mere sparring tactics you have learned being beaten upon by my younger brother's guards.”“He suffered a few beatings from Eddard Stark's bastard son as well!” Tyrion points out jocundly. Jaime laughs in that imperious, arrogant nature he seems to always possess. “Well, we may just make a knight of you yet, William. Ser Shakespeare has a gallant sound to it, don't you agree?”“Fuck knights!” Sandor speaks as he finishes his food and gets up from the table. He walks off in a sudden rush. Raina excuses herself as well.Seems the feast and the Tourney of the Hand is finally coming to a close. >Go to bed and rest>Something else? (write-in)
>>462215>>Something else? (write-in)>Look around to see if anyone is surprised by us saying our name.
>>462215>Shit on the floor
>>462215>Something else? (write-in)Play some music for the hardcore crowd. Otherwise seek Varys among the them. Introduce ourselves
>>462225Supporting it's good we get good terms with nobles.
>Try to convince Varys to sing to our songCastrato get!
>>462255This would be an amazing way to make an intro with him.
Roll me 1d100 + 7, best of 3. This is a search check
Rolled 8 + 7 (1d100 + 7)>>462265
Rolled 1 + 7 (1d100 + 7)>>462265
Rolled 15 (1d100)>>462265
Rolled 19 + 7 (1d100 + 7)>>462265>>462270I can't see shit
>>462215Is raina working on making the eight too?
>>462282well,we cant have all the fun alone
>Raina wants to fuck the Hound of all people.Man she has shit taste in men.What does that say about us?
>>462288don't think about it too hard. she's just a size queen since Velo tore it up, she must think the hound is packing
>>462288Tbh we should probably stop fucking Raina, if we even still are. Time to move on to fresh meat.
>>462305>Fresh meatGod knows we wore hers out.
Does Raina have the loosest pussy in Westeros?
You decide to search around for Varys to see if you can meet up with the Master of Whisperers. You get up from the long table, leaving Jaime and Tyion to finish the remnants of their feasting while you scour the tourney grounds for the plump eunuch.Nobles are getting up and retiring to their manses inside and around the city. The royal family have all left by now as well as Eddard Stark's.You spend a good half an hour searching the dozens and dozens of crowded nobles in the dark for signs of Varys. Unfortunately, it all proves fruitless.Eventually in your quest for the Spider, you find yourself walking behind some secluded tents near the back of the tourney that have yet to be taken down by the squires and servants.As you peer round, you suddenly hear a voice.“Oh yeah~~!” Raina! You freeze in place at the sound of her breathy voice. “That's right. Breed me! Breed me like a bitch! Make me your bitch! GIVE ME THE KNOT!”“Shut the fuck up before I hit you,” The Hound's gravelly rasping voice commands.“Oooh~~ yeah! Dirty talk, I like it. Punish me, Alpha!” You only catch a glimpse of the copulation, but still – your night is sort of ruined now. First a dwarf. Now a man who has half his face burnt off. Why does Raina have such shit tastes in men?Although . . . what does that say about you? Huh. After that little event you don't feel like finding Varys and the tourney grounds are practically a ghost town at this point – save for Bronn and Chiggen who thankfully escort you back into the city with their hands on the pommels of their swords, eyes peeled for danger. Millennium also serves as a protective element, your loyal hound following your footsteps like a shadow. You make it across King's Landing and to the Iron Stag Inn, dropping off one more silver coin to purchase yourself another night of rather comfortable rest. You don't see Mills anywhere and when you knock on his door no one answers. You think he may be resting his head somewhere else tonight. You've still got six more days of healing to do. >What do you do for the rest of the week?
>>462399Read a book about navigation.
>>462399something could be wrong.Send Bronn looking for Mill
>>462399Go to the red keep practice footwork with Jamie, use a short spear in our good arm
>>462406We're recovering from our wounds.
>>462399>Read a bookNot sure on what really. Maybe on sword techniques?We should also think about sending out one of our bodyguards to ask around about buying a ship, if that's still something we're interested in.
>>462395>Does Raina have the loosest pussy in Westeros?Not as loose as Elia Martell's
>>462414>>462399Oh, we're also in King's Landing so I'm sure there's an alchemist somewhere from whom we could purchase saltpeter, charcoal, and sulfur. Put some of that alchemical knowledge we gained to work, and introduce black powder to the setting.
>>462414this but spear would be more interesting
>>462414This but a book about spears >>462399
>>462399>read a book on spear fighting techniques
>>462399I still think we shoould hunt down Tommen and try to befriend the future heir. Always useful to more people on side and I'm Tommen would appreciate the attention.
>>462402Navigation>>462403Check up on Mills>>462414Sword book + ship + gunpowder>>462419>>462423>>462424Spear fighting book>>462427TommenBook about Spearfighting it is!
>>462399Buy a practice spear
>>462434That's what they call a stick.
Roll me 1d100 +5, best of 3. This is an intelligence check.
Rolled 86 (1d100)>>462437
Rolled 33 + 5 (1d100 + 5)>>462437
Rolled 1 + 5 (1d001 + 5)>>462437
Rolled 1 (1d100)>>462437I can count to potato
Rolled 17 + 5 (1d100 + 5)>>462437huurrrr
>>462442Alright. I hope y'all are ready. Fighting Manual Illiterate -- What do all these pictures represent anyway? No matter how hard you try you can't parse the esoteric medieval instruction manuals on proper fighting techniques. You can not learn how to fight from reading books.
>>462441>>462442We are not a wise man.Speaking of fucking a dwarf now that we have (probably) stopped the stark/lannister civil war that means Tyrion won't meet that whore that he killed his father over! We killed true dwarf love.
>>462453Thank fuck. We'll learn better from Jaime when we're healed - while we're injured we should play to our advantages and socialise.>Seduce Myrcella / some other noble slut / we haven't made the 8 you fags.Also>Track down Mills
Welp guess we do need Jamie
Rolled 5, 92, 70 = 167 (3d100)Ignore this!
>>462462Myrcella is prepubescent tho
>>462469She's 13 in this multiverse so she's barely post-pubescent
>>462462Wasn't Elenor Tyrell supposed to be in town for the tourney? Also, when we go for the riverlands we may be able to got a whole bunch of freys at once ... there is a ton of them.
>>462476I believe she was, and yet to be betrothed too. Plan Tyrell is a go.
>>462470Still got to fuck
>>462470we need to fug her. :DDD
Tricky mah boi, you need to quit shitposting on discord. It's bad for your update output.
For the rest of the week you decide you're going to learn how to fight with a spear via your mind rather than your body! You send Bronn out with 5 gold telling him to keep the change as long as he comes back with the best spear fighting manual he can acquire. He nods his head and a few hours later the sellsword is back, handing you a book with an assortment of diagrams, paragraphs explaining the anatomy of a spear and stories of famous spear fighters and the tactics they employed.It is a fascinating read and you enjoy learning the nomenclature, but try as you might and six days later you are still confused, puzzled and no closer to being a great spearfighter than you were at the start of your literary delve.One night in a fit of rage at your incompetence you throw the book out your window. Immediately regretting your action you peer out out to see it has landed in a pile of mud. You sigh out and curse your impetuous action, before running down to retrieve it. You stoop to pick the book up out of the wet dirt, but one sniff and you realize that the pile your book landed in was not mud, but something much fouler. You surrender, acknowledging any information inside would still prove too abstruse and unapproachable for you to gleam. As you walk back inside you realize from your burst of movement that you are practically fully healed. You clench your fist and rotate your arm, causing no pain or discomfort – burning or otherwise – to emanate from the wound. Good, too. Every night before you went to bed you had been forced to poured boiled wine on both injuries and rub the burning red paste the medicine man called firemilk into them too. It took an hour of pained irritation before you could finally claim a peaceful sleep. Even then you'd wake up sore and groggy, almost wishing to die. Climbing the staircase of the Iron Stag Inn back to the third floor, you can't help but hear the sounds of faint sobbing.You halt in the middle of the hallway and recognize them as female wails, coming from Raina's inn room.As you approach you notice her door open a crack and peer in, spying on her for a moment.Raina lies on the ground, leaning against her bed and sobbing into the sheets, dressed only in a rather conservative white nightgown. You see an empty teacup and saucer on a coaster atop her nightstand. And you spy a bucket against the far corner of her room.>Skedaddle>Enter and console>Tell her the two of you are splitting ways>Put her to work (doing what?)>Something else? (write-in)
>>462549>Enter and console
>>462549>Tell her the two of you are splitting ways
>>462549>>Tell her the two of you are splitting ways
>>462549>Enter and console>Put her to work (doing what?)train her in lockpicking
>>462562^ that too
>>462549>murder this degenerate whore
>>462549>>Tell her the two of you are splitting waysCall her a whore too
>>462566Change your vote to split ways so we can stop the waifu faggots
>>462549Also call her a whole as well. >>462561
>>462558+1 to calling her a whore
>>462572k family>>462549>Tell her the two of you are splitting ways
>>462549Enter and console you shitposters, she's a useful companion.>Can lockpick>Can sneak>Can seduce>Can stab>Can sew>Can use rope>Can art>Can modern word knowledgeDon't throw that away because you're overreacting to the non-existent waifufags
>>462585STOP SHILLINGShe has done zero of those things Get out waifu faggot cuck
>>462585>done none of thoses>only sucked dick and fucked people>now emotially unstable.Officialy a liability that will soon go mad and sell us out because she's a whore
>>462549Enter and console
>>462585cuckwe can just hire a better companion like her anyway.
>>462557>>462562>>462582>>462584>>462585Enter and Console>>462558>>462561>>462569>>462579>>462575>>462591The two of you are splitting waysEnter and Console wins.Writing.
>>462592we're getting more companions either way, no reason to thrown away a thief and an artist
>>462593lol, last one I accidentally included with splitting ways. Its an enter and console vote though.>>462591
>>462587>t. shitposterShe has stabbed, sewn and seduced plenty well. No reason not to believe she can sneak, steal, lockpick, art, rope or has some knowledge of the modern world.Also, not waifu. I was the one voting for us to seduce ourselves a nice young nobleslut instead of wasting time with a stupid spearfighting manual (what fag tries to learn fighting from a book, for reals that dumb, nigga)
>>462587To be perfectly fair, she's much less of a risk factor than most people in Westeros we could get to work for us.
>>462601this, who would make a better thief than her? Some pox ridden catspaw that will stab us in the back for our shekels whenever they get the chance?
>>462596>Also, not waifu. I was the one voting for us to seduce ourselves a nice young nobleslut instead of wasting time with a stupid spearfighting manual (what fag tries to learn fighting from a book, for reals that dumb, nigga)Then you based
>>462603Well, there's still a chance for that as well, but at this moment in time, she's not very likely to work for someone else.
Aight I'm done for the night. I'll write the next post tomorrow
>>462549>>Enter and consoleBit late I know, but I had to counter some of the hate. Just because you don't want to waifu her doesn't mean you should split the party. It's not we have even directly interacted with her for a while.
>>462619WE DID IT, REDDIT!!!!!
>sleep around with everyone>aborts our two babys>crys because of her own poor life choices>go comfort her despite this with a smile on our faces because of access to her old worn pussy.thanks cucks
>>462634Comforting =/= Fucking, friendo : ^ )
>>462634>we voted to abort the babies
You open the door to Raina's room gingerly. She casts a backwards glance at you as the creaking wood draws her attention. Her eyes are red and puffy – suggesting she's been crying for awhile now. She bites her lip and wipes the tears away with the sleeve of her dress.You approach cautiously, looking into her eyes for any sign she is angry at you or wants to be left alone. But instead all you see is pain, sorrow . . . and perhaps a bit of shame?You aren't sure but she eventually gazes at the floor. Kneeling beside her, you smell the abortifactants on her – tansy, mint, wormwood, pennyroyal. They are strong enough to almost overwhelm your senses, but you persevere, wrapping your arms around her in a hug.“Are you alright?” you ask to the back of her head. Running your hands through her soft, wavy black hair.“Y-y-yeah,” she says with a sniffle. Tightening her own arms around your back and squeezing in her patented 'struggle snuggle'. “Just, um . . . I did it. I drank that foul shit! It's over. I knocked it back and . . . I'm no longer knocked up. Heheh~~” The forced levity of the humor is apparent. “ . . . Do you think I should have kept the baby?”“No,” you tell her. “You made the right call. Giving birth here could kill you. No real medical care worth making the attempt.”“Yeah. Yeah, just . . . I'm always gonna wonder what if I hadn't done this, y'know?”“We all have regrets, mistakes and major choices in our life, Raina. Best thing to do is move forward and make better and smarter ones in the future.”“Yeah,” she echoes. Whether it is a meaningless utterance meant to fill up awkward silence or a genuine digestion of your counsel -- you can't tell. There is a pause as the two of you remain kneeling on the floor and hugging. Ultimately, you let go and pull back, looking into her yellow-green irises again, shining with spilled tears and dread. “Do you think we'll ever make it back to Earth?” She offers the daunting question like a plea for mercy.>Yes>No>I hope not>Something else? (write-in)AND>What have you been doing the past week?>Really? The Hound?>You should make money painting>Are you upset with me due to the situation at all?>Go back to your room>Something else? (write-in)
>>462690>I don't know>You should make money painting>Are you upset with me due to the situation at all?
>>462690>Something else?"Magic does exist in the world, so it's theoretically possible.""Just try not to meddle with human sacrifice."
>>462690>>462690>I hope not - you have no idea how high I'm about to rise in this worldThen hug her to our chest again and just hold her for a while.Then, >What have you ben doing this past week?
>>462690>>No>>Really? THE HOUND???Get your sword ready too
>>462694Also>What have you been doing the past week?I'm actually curious about this.
>>462690Should also tell her that she could become a Rembrant if she wanted.
>>462693>Are you upset with me due to the situation at all?No way bro. That's just allowing her to redirect the blame. We want her placing all that at her own feet so it eats away at her self-image as much as possible, makes her rely more on us and thus she becomes easier to manipulate. In a perfect world trauma of aborting her two innocent children would fracture her psyche, clearing the space for us to step in and completely replace her super-ego. That's probably too much to hope for (unless Trick allows us to roll diplomacy for it) but we can definitely build up some attachment.It's like you've never been in a relationship>>462698You can fuck right off. That does not help the situation. We can use her apparent beatiality fetish much more effectively when we need her to do something.
>>462690>No>Really? THE HOUND???
>>462690>>We're all going to die here."We are going to die here.">Something else? (write-in)So how was the hound? Maybe next time you can grab me for a threesome?>I'm always gonna wonderSo am I! Weren't those our nat100 69 twins?
>>462690>I don't know, maybe >What have you been doing the last week?>You should make money painting scenes from Earth
>>462690>Something else? (write-in)Well we got here somehow, so maybe there is a way. Who knows? What I do know is we should make the most of what we can while we are here.What have you been up too anyways, know where mills went? Think there are any others out there?
>>462690"Not exactly in a hurry to leave.""We're pretty rich in here."
>>462690>Yes>Really? The Hound?
>>462690>Something ElseNigga maybeAlso, >Really? The Hound?>Are you upset with me due to the situation at all?We're agitators now nigga
>>462690>I don't know>You should make money painting
>>462690>I hope not>Really? The Hound?
>>462690>I don't know.>What have you been doing the past week?>You should make money painting>Something else? (write-in)"Raina what do *you* want to do? I know you've been going with the flow accompanying me while I try to make the most of my book knowledge, but that knowledge is drying up fast. If we are stuck in this world forever what do you want to make of yourself here? Big time noble? Famous painter? Maybe just some humble life? Something else? We can work towards a goal together but you need to have one first.""Also sleeping with whoever is a bit of gamble every time you do it Raina. People are crazy and/or manipulative here."
>>462690>I don't know.>What have you been doing the past week?>You should make money paintingDunno what's wrong with the Hound. Cool dude.
>>462964Annnnd 'not a proxy' 2nd post
>>462948Wow, that sounds really bad even though the message itself isn't inherently wrong.
>>462690>I dont know>Are you upset with me due to the situation at all?>What have you been doing the past week?
What have you been doing the past week.>>462697>>462699>>462747>>462762>>462948 (write-in)>>462964>>462977 (write-in)>>463355 (write-in)Really? The Hound?>>462698>>462706>>462707 (threesome?)>>462811>>462816>>462937You should make money painting>>462693>>462747>>462820>>462948>>462964>>462977Are you upset with me due to the situation at all>>462693>>462816>>463355Including the top 3.
“I don't know, Raina. Maybe there's a chance. Magic exists in this world so theoretically there is a possibility we could do anything, but . . . let's stray from the human sacrifice for now.”Raina laughs, the wetness on her cheek granting her skin a glossy sheen. “I promise I'll wait . . . at least 3 more days before I cut off Mills' head and pray to the Stranger to whisk me back home.”You chuckle at that. “Besides, before you start sharpening your ritual knives. Life here isn't that bad – I'm not sure I want to go home. I'm richer here than I ever was on Earth. And I think things are just going to keep going up for me.”Raina cocks her head and stares at you hard. “What? You were almost killed the first night we met. And you got stabbed a week ago! AND YOU'RE MISSING A TOE! Tomorrow you might get . . . I don't know, the plague and die!”“Alright, first of all Raina . . . it would be the bloody flux, if anything, not the plague. Second . . . yeah, we've all had some setbacks. But I started off naked –”“So did I,” Raina states matter-of-factly.“And now I'm a bit of land and an official title from being a true blue noble. It's a dangerous game we're playing – filled with treachery and assassination. I may lose a limb or be poisoned or get my head chopped off, but the prize of rising up! . . . Haven't you ever wanted to be more than some failed art student browsing 4chan?”“I wasn't a failed –”“You went to art school, Raina,” you remind her.“ . . . yeah,” she finally agrees in a melancholy tone. “So what do you want to do? What do you want to be Raina? What's the goal?” you probe.“Hmmmm,” she utters as she gets up and sits on the bed. You take a seat beside her. “Well, I guess now that survival isn't my biggest motivation for doing stuff . . . I want to be . . . rich, famous and powerful?”“Aaaaalright,” you acknowledge that as you blow air out your mouth. “Anything specific?”“I'd like to put my painting skills to use. I mean I guess I already sorta am? I spent this last week buying supplies and making a few pieces. Sold them yesterday altogether for about 100 gold dragons.”A few seconds pass in silence as you register that sentence.“ . . . What?!” you ask incredulously. “You made 100 gold dragons this week?!”“Well, minus the supplies, a fair amount over 99.”“Wow . . . uh, well you were more productive than me.”“You were injured,” she excuses as she places a hand on your knee, squeezing. “Recuperating was your task.”“Still, you must not have been kidding when you said you were good.”“Well, I wasn't. But having access to Tyrion sure helped a lot for exposure purposes.”
Speaking of exposure purposes, “The same type of access you had to The Hound?”She squints her eyes in response to your claim then eventually scoffs. “Really? More of this bullshit?”“Half his face is burned off!” you protest.“That just makes him sexier!” she retorts. “And how did you even know about that?”“Please, you were making eyes at him the whole night and then followed after him like a lovestruck . . . Raina. I figured by now, considering you know the consequences, you'd realize sleeping around is a bit of a gamble.”“I do!” she argues. “I figured since I was already pregnant it wasn't like I could get double pregnant so I fucked him before I drank my stupid baby-be-gone juice! I've learned my lesson, Will. My IUD must have disappeared with my clothes. From here on out it's anal and oral for this temple. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a bucket filled with aborted fetus I need to dispose of, thank you very much.”She brusquely shoves you off her bed and out of her room. As you reach the door and she prepares to slam it, she gathers the breath to say one more thing. “Look Will, I thought we were just fuck buddies. But if this is going to keep being an issue with you every time you even think I've slept with another man, maybe we need to make a change.”>We do – we're no longer fuck buddies.>We do – let's go steady.>No we don't – I promise to stop giving a shit>Let me dispose of the aborted fetus bucket>Something else? (write-in)
>>463922>We do – we're no longer fuck buddies.
>>463922>>No we don't – I promise to stop giving a shit
>>463922>>No we don't – I promise to stop giving a shit>>Let me dispose of the aborted fetus bucket
>>463922>We do – we're no longer fuck buddies."You're right. It's probably for the best. It'll make things less weird. Like I said just be careful alright?"
>>463922>Let me dispose of the aborted fetus bucket"You've had a shit day as it is."
>>463922>Let me dispose of the aborted fetus bucket
>>463928>>463931>>463954>>463975>>463983We do, we're no longer fuck buddies>>463938>>463966I promise to stop caring.>>463986>>464005>>463966Dispose of abortedfetus.Alright, writing for no longer fuck buddies.
>>463922>No we don't – I promise to stop giving a shit
“We do. We're no longer fuck buddies. Let's keep things . . . platonic between us.”Raina gives a firm nod. “I can agree to that. Now if you'll excuse me.” She slams the door in your face.You sigh out and make your way back to your room. As you walk past Bronn, standing guard at your door drinking some wine he keeps in a sack, he strikes up a conversation with you.“Women take too much effort. Whores are better and talk less if you buy the right one. Could I speak with you in your room for a moment, boss?”You frown momentarily at his words of wisdom before nodding assent to his request.The two of you enter your inn room and take seats on opposite ends of the table. Bronn puts his hands on the tabletop and you watch as his fingers dance. Eventually he smacks the table once and leans back in his chair. “So I looked into things. And Sabas – the first bookie we scammed – he's the one who's been spreading word around town about who came into his place of business and made off with most of his profits. His men told every thief, pickpocket, thug, cheapskate salesman and money-grubbing septon what we looked like and how much money we stood to make from our antics. Now . . . as I interpret it, that makes Sabas responsible for the 100 gold dragons robbed from Chiggen as well as the injuries the two of you suffered. Maybe it's time we paid Sabas a visit?”Bronn gives you a look as he cocks his head and rolls his tongue around his mouth.>Forget Sabas>Yeah, let's go after him>You and Chiggen go deal with him>Something else? (write-in)
>>464164>Yeah, let's go after him
>>464164>yeah let's go after himBring Chiggin with us. Ask mills if he wants to come too. We gotta know if he knows about the other bidder. Also, leave our money here.
>>464164>Yeah, let's go after himFlick him a dragon, let's go send a message
You flip a gold dragon to Bronn which he nimbly catches – sly smile upon his face. “Yeah, let's deal with him. Bring Chiggen. Do you know where Mills is?” you ask as you stand up and secure your sword to your hip. “Prancing through the garden since he won the melee. Has a room in the Red Keep with the . . . Knight of Flowers. Squired and everything. Only way we're speaking with him is if –”“If one of us had access to Jaime Lannister as his one and only squire,” you answer with a smug look as the two of you make your way down the stairs.“Oooh. Soon I'll be out of a job if you keep spending time with fancy fighters like that.” Chiggen joins your little procession as you exit the Iron Stag together. “But regardless, just the three of us should be enough. To Flea Bottom!” you declare.. . . Back in the narrow streets of the impoverished district of King's Landing you quickly navigate your way past the same multitudes of peddlers who attempt to grab your attention even greater now that you have a reputation for wealth. Thankfully while it doesn't seem the guards know what happened in that dark alley a week ago – the fearful looks on some of the locals you pass give you cause to believe the story of that encounter has spread around Flea Bottom.When you spot the bookie's office a young boy prepares to bolt inside. Chiggen strongly grabs the dirt-covered child by the shoulder and throws him back roughly into the street, perhaps dislocating the lookout's shoulder. The three of you step boldly inside, hands at the hilts of your swords.The disgusting smell of the establishment is exactly the same, as is the general composition of items and people inside. Sabas's eyes widen as you the chime on his door rings. His four guards surge forward, prepared for violence. He raises his hands to halt them, clearly not wanting blood shed inside his shop. A few seconds of silence pass as his eyes flick to each of your determined faces.“I don't want any trouble,” Sabas pleads with you. This moment of pause gives Bronn and Chiggen enough time to subtly sidle up to either side of you. >Well you got trouble (ATTACK!)>Cough up 150 gold and you won't have trouble.>Give me a good reason NOT to fuck this place up>Who else was making bets with the bookies around town?>Something else? (write-in)
>>464392>Give me a good reason NOT to fuck this place up>Who else was making bets with the bookies around town?
>>464392>>Give me a good reason NOT to fuck this place up>>Who else was making bets with the bookies around town?
>>464392>Cough up 200 gold and you won't have trouble.>Give me a good reason NOT to fuck this place upYou start shit, be prepared to pay the price.
>>464392>Who else was making bets with the bookies around town?"I want infformation and I want it now,You wronged me and these fine gentlemen and the only way I am not taking action against you is we walk out of this shithole of a shopping with all our questions answered"
>>464392>shred the guards and interrogate with extreme hostility.Have chig be lookout, bronn secures the exit. Spill the beans old man or you die. Get the info and kill him
Roll me 1d100 + 5, best of 3. This is an intimidation check.
Rolled 6 + 5 (1d100 + 5)>>464430Nat 1 incoming
Rolled 1 + 5 (1d001 + 5)>>464430
Rolled 24 (1d100)>>464430
Rolled 30 + 5 (1d100 + 5)>>464430
Rolled 53 + 5 (1d100 + 5)>>464430Rolling for fun
Rolled 77 + 5 (1d100 + 5)>>464430
Rolled 19 + 5 (1d100 + 5)>>464430
Rolled 51 + 5 (1d100 + 5)>>464430
Rolled 79 (1d100)>>464430Flex the rolls
>>464435I see what you did there.
We haven't scared shit.Guess we'll have to rek the guy's men and try again
“You don't want trouble?” you ask cocking you head and resting a fist in your cupped hand. “Well then how about you give me a reason not to fuck this place up?”He points an accusing finger at you, shaking with the infirmity of age and the nervousness of a man being threatened. “My men outnumber yours.”Bronn chuckles. “You've got four untrained thugs who've never fought real warriors. Underfed bullies.One of them grimaces and steps forward, but again Sabas raises a hand. “And what exactly do you think are you?”Bronn gestures to himself and Chiggen. “Two trained thugs who have fought real warriors. Well fed bullies.”“That we are,” Chiggen echoes the sentiment, smiling. "I've come a long way since Flea Bottom, Sabas. I suggest you don't force me to do this." “Plus I will gut you myself, old man,” you promise, gripping your sword tighter. “Now give me one damn good reason we don't paint your walls red.”“What do you want?!” he shrugs his arms, shaking. “I haven't done anything to you!”“You let the word out about what we looked like and how much gold we were carrying. To every cutthroat in the city. An army of thugs you didn't even have to pay.”“Well whatever money they stole, I don't have it!”You lick your lips. “Do you know who else was making bets with the bookies around town? Someone cleaning up like me?”Sabas opens his mouth to speak, but then quickly closes it. “No. No, I'm not going to stand for this. I will not be threatened by some cheating rat. Bets are confidential between the customer and the bookie!”Chiggen sniggers. “So you do know who it is. That makes things simple. Cough up a name and we can leave.”Sabas sneers. “Here's one for you. Last name Off. First name Fuck.”The four guards tense. Bronn laughs the laugh of a man in his element, one hand drifting to the sword on his back and the other to the knife on his back. Chiggen shakes his head, muttering 'Sabas'.>Draw and fight>Let Bronn and Chiggen handle this>Back off, let the old man keep his secrets>Something else? (write-in)
>>464682>Draw and fight
Rolled 1, 1, 1 = 3 (3d001)Vision of things to come
Rolled 1 + 99 (1d1 + 99)>>464706vision of things to come
Rolled 80 (1d100)rolling to see how things play out in this quest.
>>464682>Draw and fight"and now it begins"
Roll me 1d100 + 5, best of 3. This is a sword check.
Rolled 92 (1d100)>>464716
Rolled 76 + 5 (1d100 + 5)>>464716
Rolled 88 + 5 (1d100 + 5)>>464716FUCK YOU INKY
>>464682>Draw and fightMake our moves quick and subtle, quickly eliminate the guards and ensure this douche don't do a runner.
>>464714No.Now it ends.Writing!
Rolled 1 (1d1)>>464716
>Bets are confidential between the customer and the bookie!Except when it comes to us it seems.
>>464725>>464710>>464706You people give me heart attacks.
>>464717Hell yeah, we're going to prove Jamie-Senpai proud
Rolled 1 (1d1)>>464802Whatever you say
>>464807>"So, do you know that's not how you hold a sword?">"MORDSCHLAG!"
You draw your sword from its scabbard in a swift motion, but the most aggressive and irritated guard is already mid-lunge by the time you're prepared. He hasn't even fully drawn his sword yet. Before he can crash into you however, Bronn has pulled his knife and tosses it underhand. The blade sinks into the guard's throat and he falls to his knees by the time your other three opponents have their weapons out. As the dying man clutches his bleeding throat, providing a wheezing noise as background music to the ensuing brawl – Chiggen clashes with a man who has recently unslung his war hammer. The sparks fly as the steel weapons scrape against each other. Sabas utters a high-pitched screech and ducks low. The last two guards rush you, but Bronn intercedes to parry one's wild but strong swing, engaging him. Leaving you with just one armed and armored man – which makes him a bit more prepared for this encounter than you. The first swing of the man's morningstar you catch on the flat of your sword. The second swing he uses both hands and the power of it pushes you backwards into a stumble that ends at the back wall of the shop. The next attempt to bash your head in you duck low and thrust forward, the tip of your sword piercing into the man's hide armor which protects his stomach.You think you've pierced flesh as he gasps and shouts. When he comes to bring the flail down on top of your head or back anyway, you have no choice but to let go of your weapon and jolt to the side to avoid getting brained. After he misses you lunge out with your hands and grip the shaft of his morningstar before he can recover, the weapons still low to the ground.You pull with all your might to wrench it out of his hands, but when he counters your disarm attempt with a painful headbutt, you decide to get nasty. Spitting blood out onto the floor you reach a foot up and press your heel into the pommel of the sword still partially lodged in the man's body. As you yank back the object of your struggle, the force of your foot pushing the blade deeper into him. It sinks to the hilt. The man's eyes flutter and blood drenches your boot and his clothes.The strength of the grip on the weapon you're fighting over wavers and finally his hands drops away lifelessly. You kick the corpse, pushing the body forward, off your sword and onto some wooden boxes. Your two hands grip the morningstar tight as you stride further into the shop. The man failing to keep blood from pouring between his fingers out his throat looks up at you like a pitiable dog. You sigh once and muster all the might you can – bringing the head of the weapon down onto the man's skull. A sickening crunch and the splatter of blood on your face and rather expensive doublet puts the man out of his misery and causes you to realize that unfortunately, you will need to purchase another new set of clothes. You look up and see that Bronn and Chiggen have both dispatched their opponents handily.
Sabas has ducked underneath his counter and is still whimpering quite noisily. Chiggen shakes his head. “You bloody craven.” He walks to the counter, reaches over and pulls the feeble old man out. He shrieks once more as Chiggen picks him up and slams him onto the table. “Now would you like to give us the name?”“I DON'T KNOW WHO IT IS!” He wails and shouts. Bronn stalks towards the prone man. “Do you know what the person who bet looked like, at least?” “It was some . . . man! He bet a small pittance on the same winners you did and a group of men came to collect the . . . 50 gold dragons in winnings? I can't remember how much it was!” Chiggen rolls his head back and forth, annoyed. “Alright, what did the group of men look like, then?!” He shouts in the old man's face. Sabas closes his eyes and whimpers.“T-t-they were Westermen! Blonde hair, blue eyes. W-w-with the Lannisters. My lookout said he'd seen one before drinking at some alehouse or other. Said he was the Captain of the Lannister guards here in King's Landing. They were the ones who asked me first what you looked like! I figured . . . since I assumed the worst would happen anyway . . . I could make back some of the profits I lost giving out information that would lead to a corpse. I swear I thought you'd be dead by now.”“How sweet,” Chiggen says with a smile, playfully slapping the old man on the cheek.>Chiggen, kill him>Is that everything?!>Let's go>So, you still owe us . . . I believe 250 gold dragons?>Something else? (write-in)
>>464906>Is that everything?!>So, you still owe us . . . I believe 250 gold dragons?
>>464906>Is that everything?!>So, you still owe us . . . I believe 250 gold dragons?then>Chiggen, kill him
>>464906>>Is that everything?!>>So, you still owe us . . . I believe 250 gold dragons?
>>464906>So, you still owe us . . . I believe 250 gold dragons?Let Bronn decide what to do with him
>>464906>So, you still owe us . . . I believe 250 gold dragons?
>>464908Voting this. We don't need to kill the poor fuck. He knows not to cross us.
>>464906>So, you still owe us . . . I believe 250 gold dragons?>Let's go
>>464917I agree. Better have him spread the word to not fuck with us
>>464925I'm on my phone so my ID keeps changing, not a proxyfag
>>464906I do believe you said "Bets are confidential between the customer and the bookie!""Yet you went and blabbed about our winnings to everyone.""That's something that can ruin your business, you realise if the message got out?""You will compensate for the damages and we will not kill you.""You will not try to take revenge if you want to keep your reputation and thus your business."
>>464908>>464910>>464912You holding out on me?>>464908>>464910>>464912>>464915>>464916>>464918>>464919Money, bitch!
>>464906Oh an additionally, if things go smoothly, we could negotiate an endorsement deal and make some money out of that.Basically, we'd be their public figure to the fact that you can "WIN BIG" at his place and he won't try to screw you over. This will attract a lot of hopeful people trying to do what we did, but fail.
>>464940Oh, in addition, if things go well, we could maybe sell him the concept of a new gambling activity that'll make him a lot of money. Concept that preys on tempting stupid people to make bad bets.The roulette wheel.
“So you still owe us . . . was it 250 gold dragons, Chiggen?”Chiggen nods his head vigorously. “Oh yes, it was 250 gold dragons.”“I keep the money in the back! Take all of it! Please! Just don't kill me!” Bronn shrugs nonchalantly and strolls into the back of the bookie's office. You hear the violent sounds of him tossing the place.You step up to Sabas. “Have you told us everything?” He looks up at you, fear plain in his eyes. He squeezes them shut as he thinks excruciatingly hard, racking his memories for something more to give you. Anything that will save his skin.Suddenly they burst open, alive with hope for his continued existence. “SHE! SHE! They mentioned a she! The one in charge – the Captain. Although he wasn't dressed in the Lannister colors. When I mentioned – offhand, mind you, no names or physical description – that they were the second group of folks that made that crazy bet they INTERROGATED me for your names and what y'all looked like. But at the end as they were leaving I heard The Captain say 'she needs to hear about this'.”Chiggen pales. “Shit. The Fucking Queen made those bets?” Sabas shrugs. “That's all I know, please.”“Well,” Bronn speaks, drawing all three of your attentions as he walks out from the back, tossing a black bag of clinking coins up and down in the air. “Found 400 gold dragons, but . . . you said take all the money as long as we don't kill you, correct?” He points in a lazily accusatory manner at the man.Sabas frowns, knowing he's about to get robbed for all he's worth. “So, we don't kill you, our employer gets his money back, while Chiggen and I split 150 gold dragons?” Bronn locks eyes with you.>Sounds like a plan Bronn>Split 200, you've earned it >Leave the poor man some money (how much)>Hahahah, funny joke. Chiggen, kill him.>Something else? (write-in)
>>464977>Split 200, you've earned it let's be kind to our friends
>>464977>Split 200, you've earned it>Something else? (write-in)Talk to the Bookie about the fact that he should capitalise on the fact that there's been a big winner on his establishment, because that means there'll be a lot more hopeful fools who are bad at math.
>>464977>haha funny joke>split 200 you've earned it
>>464977>Split 200, you've earned it
>>464977>Split 200 you earn it
“Split 200 gold dragons. You've both earned it.” Sabas whimpers and the two of your bodyguards rummage through the black bag for their pay. After deducting their fee, Bron tosses the container to you and your posse of three exits the bookie's together, leaving Sabas alone, penniless and surrounded by corpses.You're all slathered in some amount of blood and your weapons are coated in the sticky red stuff as well. As you step outside, a few of the passing Flea's Bottom residents quickly notice you and break into fleeing sprints or at the very least turn around and walk the other way from where you stand. You need to get a change of clothes and it looks like you'll be making the tailors of King's Landing a tad richer today. But after you deal with that, what next? You could purchase yourself a boat – an idea you've been ruminating on for quite a while. Or you could go train with Jaime Lannister to improve your skills. Or perhaps do something completely different?>Train with Jaime Lannister>Purchase a boat>Something else? (write-in)I'm done for the night regardless.
>>465004>>Train with Jaime Lannister
>>465004>>Purchase a boat
>>465004>Purchase a boat
>>465004>Train with JaimeBoat comes a bit later
>>465004>>Train with Jaime LannisterWhat are we, a cat?
It's a good thing the Master of Ships is Stannis Baratheon.
>>465004Train with Jamie. The boat can wait till we know who knows about us.
>>465018>The boat can wait till we know who knows about us.Cersei and LF i believe.
>>465004>Train with Jaime Lannister
>>465004>Train with Jaime LannisterTrain with the lion, find out if there's been any new people show up at the rock of late
Here are reasons for a boat. It's a good investment to our well being.The Boat is a good thing. What if we roll a nat one and mess up in King landing. The boat will be there if shit go south. If we want to escape without the boat it'll be harder and we'll get caught.The boat we just go look, buy it then go train with Jamie.Also if we went to help with white walkers we could take the boat to Dragon Stone
>>465004Train with Jaime
>>465029Unless said boat gets impounded, or its crew arrested. Then it is merely a deadweight asset that had tied up a significant portion of our available capital reserves. Investing in good horses for us and our posse would be better and cheaper.
>Purchase a ship
>>465047>its crew arrestedWe're not talking about a huge ship.Some small Ship that's easy to use for like 8 sailors.>Investing in good horses for us and our posse would be better and cheaper.>buying horses not stealing them for even cheaper
>>465047Same thing can happen to horses you know. The difference is that horses are a lot easier to steal.
>>465047Also, these people don't exactly have radios and cellphones, so we do actually have time to react if for example if we need to make quick getaway.
Damn. If we buy a boat and keep it here, Cersei will probably commendeer it fir the royal fleet.
>>466175Technically she could do that as she is powerful enough, but it's a bad move. For one, if you start taking ships owned by private citizens, you will end up in a situation when you have no fishermen, not trade ships coming in or going out and worst of all, every guild that has anything to do with foreign goods will want you dead.What would be more likely is that our ship might get comissioned, which means they'd pay our ship to do the business of the crown.
>>466175However even getting our ship comissioned is unlikely if the crown isn't desperate for ships. Additionally, Jaime likes us enough that she is not likely to start just bullying us for no reason.
>>465005>>465009>>465010>>465018>>465020>>465024>>465036Train with the Jaime>>465006>>465008>>465011Nice Boat
>>466302Thats what they did in prep against STANNIS THE MANNIS, who did the same thing and claimed every ship at or near dragonstone
It's time to get some proper knightly training. You make it back to the Iron Stag, where you wipe the bodily fluids off yourself and change outfits. You detour to a tailor's and purchase yourself a new set of noble's clothes. Perhaps once you get your armor you'll stop ruining your nice courtly outfits with blood.Mounting your stot, you trot your way over south to the Red Keep. Its pale ruddy walls reaching high into the sky, eclipsed only by the seven massive drum towers that stretch above, each one capped with iron ramparts.As you ride up to the seat of the Iron Throne's gatehouse – composed of shiny bronze and an iron portcullis – two goldcloak gate guards approach where you and your companions sit amidst the cobble square. “Halt. The three of you turn around and go the other way,” the city watchmen orders, gesturing with his weapon.“I'm Ser Jaime Lannister's squire,” you announce your role authoritatively. “Call him forth and he will corroborate my claim.” The two guards look at each other before one sighs and exits through a nearby, narrow postern door.. . .A few minutes later Jaime Lannister emerges with a smile on his lips as he nods his head to the inquisitive commoner. The knight's left arm is still in a sling.You dismount your steed and shake hands with the golden-haired adonis. “Finally,” he speaks, relieved. “I can practice one-handed. Come, follow me squire,” he orders jokingly. You follow him through the postern door and into the keep proper. Unfortunately you can't bring Bronn and Chiggen with you, so you order them to retire to the Iron Stag for now. Once past the immense barbican, Jaime leads you through the entrance courtyard and a series of smaller, inner yards.The King Slayer finally brings you to a rather grandiose sparring area – fit for hundreds of knights to train at once. Currently only a few men practice their swordsmanship, marksmanship or some other form of combat, granting the two of you some amount of privacy. Jaime strides to the middle of the training grounds and gestures to a rack of blunted weapons and armor, available for temporary use. “Alright," Jaime begins his lesson. "Tyrion has informed me you aren't particularly skilled with a sword nor have you been classically trained with a master-at-arms. Apparently even Morrec regularly beats you – and Morrec is a drunken, lazy lout. If you wish to get better or at the very least proficient, I need to run you through the basics – form the foundation required for actual learning to take root and develop. That foundation can involve weaponry or armor – but it will take some time. So, do you wish to learn how to properly wear armor in a fight or should I run you through the rigor of established combat techniques.”>Armor Training>Weapon Training
>>467247Weapon training. We're gonna be wearing leather armor mostly anyway
>>467247Inform him of our spear and leather armor choices
another nobleman to fuck?
>>467615Lanister three way
>>467247Write the update faggot
>>467880Yes massuhI'm just one of those LAZY QMs, nahmean?
>>467977Thanks for understanding. For the being lazy kill yourself
“I think it would be best if I learned established combat techniques,” you inform the swordsman. He nods and gestures to the rack.“Pick your weapon of choice, squire.” Looking through the array of murderous implements, your fingers dance in time to your roaming eyes as you search out your weapon of choice . . . AH!There it is. You wrap your hand around the haft and draw the spear from the selection, spending a few moments hefting it in your hands to get a feel for the weight. It is castle-forged steel. Well-made, if lacking in the power of your Valyrian steel commission.Jaime stick his sword in the soft sandy dirt of the training area and leans a small portion of his weight on the pommel as he studies you acclimating yourself to your weapon.“Ah, partial to the spear are you? Frankly it's a commoner's weapon – made for formations and battle lines against charging cavalry. The longsword is usually the knight's weapon of choice – or a lance when ahorse. What makes you partial to the spear?”You chuckle slightly. “Will you judge me if I told you it was solely due to my family name?”Jaime looks at you pointedly. “Yes, I will.” “Then I will not tell you that. I only had enough Valyrian steel to reforge it into a spearhead.”Jaime makes and audible 'ooh'. “Valyrian steel spear? Never heard of one. Perhaps it will be the first in the world. Never mind that, though. The benefit to the spear is it is easy to learn. Unlike the prestige or glamour associated with mastering the sword and its many styles – the spear has only one. Thrust.” He plucks his sword out the ground and puts action to his words. Then he pauses and thinks to himself, before continuing. “Well, that's not entirely true. The Dornish are renowned for their fierce spearfighters as are the Crannogmen of the Neck. But, exceptions aside, the standard style of employing the spear is relatively easy to teach and master. With dedication and effort in a week's time you shouldn't be fiddling with it like you are now.”The quasi-insult makes you self-conscious of your grip, which you adjust at the nonchalant chastisement. Jaime assumes a fighting position and gestures with his blade for you to take your own stance. Your choice of posture causes Jaime to grimace and close his eyes shut, before shaking his head. He lays his sword in the dirt and comes over to help adjust your positioning of . . . well damn near everything. Your grip, your hand placement, your feet, your arms – all of it gets moved to positions that just feel awkward to you. But Jaime assures you it is the proper way to hold yourself while fighting – especially if you're going to be using a spear while not in formation.And so begins the rigorous training regimen you will be partaking in until nightfall. >Roll me 1d100, best of 3. This is a constitution check.AND>Seduce Jaime>Converse with Mills>Just focus on your spear technique>Something else? (write-in)
Rolled 4 (1d100)>>468183
Rolled 45 (1d100)>>468183>>Seduce Jaimedick
Rolled 83 (1d100)>>468183
>>468183>Just focus on your spear technique
>>468183>Converse with Mills
>>468209Change your vote for spears
>>468214>not wanting progress towards 4 acheivos with a super handsome guywew laddy
>>468214I want to make sure we keep in touch with Mills.
>>468218>not wanting to focus while learning the basics>dooming you spear level to be capped because you didn't learn properly>implying Jaime is open for a relationship while he's with CerseiFrankly i'd rather focus but speaking with Mill is less stupid than Seducing Jaime who seem to be an handsome straigh male who probably barely know us and therefore is far from being at the point where Seducing is advisable for something else than a one night stand.
>>468228>implying having sex once is gonna fuck up our training>implying Jaime isn't seduce-able when there's an option for itBesides, we'll trigger Inky again, and that was fucking hilarious last time
>>468231>implying Talking while training once is not gonna fuck up our training>implying trying to find way to seduce someone isn't gonna fuck our memorizing of the basics.He is Seducable it's just the DC is high and the risk reward isn't that good.I'd rather wait till Cersei die to do it.
>>468183>>Just focus on your spear techniqueActions seduce Jamie, How him how we handle a staff
>>468240and talk to mills fuck i forgot.
>>468183>Subtly flirt with Jaime in between sparring sessions
>>468183>Seduce JaimeBut subtly you know, don't want him geting offended.And also concentrate on actually learning
>>468183>seduce JamieGotta make that G8
>>468183Focus on spear training but also subtly try seducing jamie
>>468194>>468199>>468240>>468259>>468292 (proxyfag)>>468295Spear technique>>468244>>468247>>468269>>468295Seduce Jaime>>468209Converse with MillsFocusing on your spear technique wins.Which was innuendo for fugging JaimeWriting!
Despite the various ways you can think of to distract yourself during the hours of grueling training, you decide to focus on the task at hand – not being shit with a spear in combat, that is.A spear turns out to be a very simple weapon, you realize as Jaime puts you through the motions, slashing and hacking at you with his blunted sword. Even with one hand out of commission and not coming at you full force he easily pushes you back and gets around your guard to 'kill' positions that would spell your death if this were a real fight. The biggest issue with the spear is opponents using the reach of your weapon against you. Yes, with a spear's length you can keep opponents at bay, but if they get past the tip and in range with their own weapons, mere thrusting will leave you shit out of luck. Blocking becomes an almost offensive maneuver. Yes, you can swing the haft of your spear to block a sword slash, but more often than not the attacker will just move his sword around it with a dexterous flip of his wrist and still gut you like a fish. No, you can't just block, you have to be able to push and smack with the the haft and butt of your spear as well. The main goal, however, if you're caught with the opponent too close to stab is to keep them at bay with a thwack or a blow and then back up so you may continue stabbing them to death. Which adds a level of complexity onto mastering the spear. Because while getting the techniques for thrusting, parrying and preparing to fuck up a cavalry charge are simple and easy to have etched into the memories of your muscles – improvising in a close quarters combat is a much more intuitive skill that relies on a warrior's instincts. Jaime shows you, via his dagger that he often unsheathes to demonstrate how he could sever or puncture a vital area, that mastering the fundamentals of the weapon prepare you for spars and not battles to the death. You learn a bit from his one-armed assaults that in reaction to certain slashes you may just need to take one hand off the spear and sock your opponent in the face, much like Jon Snow used to do to you. At one point, accidentally, you smack Jaime in his wounded arm, causing him to wince.You apologize profusely, but he assures you that exploiting a weakness like that is a good move. He does remind you however that he could kill you where you stand if he wished and probably get away with it too, so be a bit more careful from now on.
As the sun sets, painting the waters of Blackwater Bay blood-orange colored hues, the two of you prepare to finish today's sparring.Jaime walks over, hand outstretched to collect your blunted spear, when he suddenly halts – eyes peeled and focused on something moving behind you.You turn around and watch as a troop of ten gold cloaks approach. Heavy wool capes dyed golden flutter in the breeze as their swift march indicates duty.“Huh,” Jaime utters wordlessly. The city watchmen stop roughly fifteen feet from the both of you. The one in command – an officer, based upon the four golden discs adorning his black breastplate – steps forward and speaks. “William Shakespeare,” he announces with authority. “In the name of Robert Baratheon: First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm; You are hereby under arrest for murder.”Jaime's head recoils as he hears the proclamation. A cold nervous sweat begins to drip down your neck in addition to the perspiration whipped up by your hard training.>Scram!>Attack!>Um . . . Jaime?>This is a mistake!>Let them seize you>Something else? (write-in)
>>468472>>Something else? (write-in)of who?
>>468472>>Um . . . Jaime?
>>468472>Write-in>And who are we accused of murdering?Gotta keep our cool.
>>468472>Something else? (write-in)"Very well, who am I accused of murdering?"
>>468472>Um . . . Jaime?
>>468472>I demand a lawyerjust for the lulz
>>468472>Um . . . Jaime?>Something else? (write-in)Who did I murder?
Keep calm, we've got people who can vouch for our character. If this is about the guy who tried to steal our shit, this is all just due process. If it's the rat in the streets, we've got good reason to kill him as he was a thief who stole a lot of money from us. If it's the bookie's guards, we can merely state that they drew their steel first, and therefore it was self defence. Stating that our guard had found out that he had been spreading out confidential information about our winnings because he lost much money to us. When we went to him and demanded to be reprimanded for the damages his unprofessional behaviour had caused, his guards drew steel.Since we've got family of the queen who can vouch for our character, it should be pretty clear cut case.
>>468472>>Let them seize youuuuhhhh... Ok... >Something else? (write-in)Could you please tell your brother i'm currently under arrest for some reason.... I hope I hear the charges rather than just throw me in a cell.Can i bring my instrument? I'm a Bard not a fighter.Knew we should have killed that Bookie
>>468507>Since we've got family of the queen who can vouch for our character, it should be pretty clear cut case.dude do you have your head up you ass.THE QUEEN SEND THEM.The bookie work for the queen, Cersei is behind this and she knows about the plot because someone with exactly her description bet on the tournament with the exact same bet we have done.read post>>464906>“T-t-they were Westermen! Blonde hair, blue eyes. W-w-with the Lannisters. My lookout said he'd seen one before drinking at some alehouse or other. Said he was the Captain of the Lannister guards here in King's Landing. They were the ones who asked me first what you looked like! I figured . . . since I assumed the worst would happen anyway . . . I could make back some of the profits I lost giving out information that would lead to a corpse. I swear I thought you'd be dead by now.”They're not here to seize us they're here to take us away from Jaime and kill us likely.
>>468519you know what...I belive you.changing from >>468511 to>Something else? (write-in)Who have I apparently murdered?>Um . . . Jaime?Why do i get the distinct impression i'm going to get killed if I go with them. Jamie, if they do take me tell Tyrion that i've been seized and well...I dunno Can you get me out...before I suddenly die from cutting my throat while shaving?
Rolled 100 (1d100)>>468546rolling for no "suicide" in jail
>>468557Alright, you officially won't kill yourself in jail.You won't even air quotes kill yourself in jail.Nice, we've established Velo is not the type of guy who lets shitty situations get him down!
>>468561PERK ACQUIREDKill yourself my man -- Despite the Red Viper's smashing new hit single, you will never follow his advice. +1000 to not killing yourself checks.
Rolled 63 + 1000 (1d100 + 1000)>>468563rolling
>>468570congratatulations you did not kill yourself!
>>468570Inb4 crit fail next time
“Who am I accused of murdering?” you ask with a frown, looking back to Jaime who merely shrugs, demonstrating he has no idea what's going on right now.The officer of the Watch scoffs. “I don't know. Some Flea Bottom bookie and his men.” He nods three of his men forward who approach to grab you by the arms. “Put the weapon down and come with us.”You look at the blunted spear you still clutch tightly between your fingers. Your hands are shaking.>Um . . . Jaime!>Scram!>Attack!>Let them seize you >Actually I didn't kill the bookie . . . in fact, I only really killed two of them and one was dying anyway, so . . .>Something else? (write-in)
>>468578>>Um . . . Jaime!>Something else? (write-in)Hey Jaime can you come with me since I don't want to be killed for something.
>>468578>Um . . . Jaime!>"What do I do? I didn't kill the guy."
>>468578>Um . . . Jaime!
>>468578>>468579This.Also tell tyron what happened
>>468578>He attacked me first, everything was in self defense
>>468578>Let them seize youWe'll find the other better this way.
>>468579This and for the love of god get word to Tyrion so he can tell my friends i'm been taken away.
>>468578>Let them seize youTell Jaime to inform Tyrion that you're facing legal trouble.
>>468578We just need Bronn and to declare a trial by combat.GET TYRION AND CO.
>>468615hmmm well we'd have to wait and see whom the crown declares....we should say Oberyn for a laugh if it comes up. He's been looking for an excuse to kill the mountain
>>468619Yea, but wouldn't that mean we'd be guilty?
Rolled 91 (1d100)>>468622rolling for no "Drugs" Velo
Rolled 100 (1d100)rolling for yes "Drugs" Velo
>>468675I swear to fucking god you bastards waste 100s
>>468675Dude, Weed LMAO -- Velo is so down with drugs that he gets along well with Canadians and their Leaf-ocracy.+1000 to speaking rolls with Canucks.
>>468689>>468563Nice we got two perks.
>>468675where is the 100 when we need it?
Rolled 55 (1d100)>>468720Here it isRolling for no "dropping the soup" Velo
Rolled 15 (1d100)>>468689Rolling for Velo 'The Viper' Shakespeare.Due to his spear, and his SPEAR Velo is renown (infamous?) throughout the 7 kingdoms.+1000 to sex rolls
>>468730Looks like Velo is just an elusive Night Dick.
The sparring spear clatters to the ground as two goldcloaks – their hands gloved in black leather – grasp you about the arms and firmly hold you in place.You spare Jaime Lannister another look. “Um . . . Jaime, could you please accompany me to ensure I'm not killed?!”The officer of the city guard laughs maliciously. “Oh, we aren't gonna kill you. Just lock you up in the black cells for a bit, criminal!” Your glance inspires empathy from The Kingslayer. He nods. “I'll inform my brother!” He shouts to you as you're dragged off through the courtyard. Your captors take from you everything on your person – the 100 gold you keep on you now since the last mugging attempt, your sword and its scabbard, even your lute!You protest the removal of your musical instrument, but your efforts are rewarded with merely a punch to the back of the head. You are dragged off your feet at that point, a little woozy from the recent injury – compounding with the sore jaw you still possess when that guard in Sabas's establishment headbutted you. Through a series of courtyards you are forced to travel until one of the City Watch opens a solid wooden door leading into a rather large complex of a building.You are paraded through a hallway of jail cells where common criminals are linked together by jingling, clanking chains. Their cells have high narrow windows to let in natural light which also serves to demoralize the prisoners. Seeing the light of day brings a rousing hope of escape that is continually dashed by being just out of reach, despite their yearnings for freedom.Six of the guards break off from your little cadre, leaving you with just the officer of the Watch and the three men who are keeping you secured. One of the men who left – a young boy not much older than yourself – open up a chest to toss your personal affects inside.You are marched down the steps to the second floor – where smaller, personal cells line the walls. These are designed for the highborn and those of noble birth. Captives who deserve dignity purely for the station of their birth. Torches illuminate the hallways here, the light provided seeks to make no false promises to the fates of the men destined to spend time in the King's prison.
You descend further – to the third floor, home of the black cells. The hallways of the third floor are normal. But the cells? Hoo boy. The guardsmen bring you to a heavy wooden door, throwing it open to reveal a small room. No accouterments are provided. No bed, no window – not even a pot to piss in. All you spy before being roughly shoved in is a pile of straw in the center of the tiny black box. As the solid, thick door closes shut behind you, all light is squelched from the room, like a singular candle blown out by a stiff northerly wind. You've entered the maw of a dark, malevolent beast. Completely blinded – your other senses kick in to accommodate. Primarily your sense of smell – as the straw you spied earlier begins to waft the scent of urine and feces into your nostrils. If no light escapes, you doubt many odors will disperse quickly as well. Yuck.Stumbling forward, unsure of your footing, you inch your way to the wall, placing your hands against the rough hewn stone. Bitter cold spreads across your fingertips. At least it is a reminder that you are not trapped in some Hell. No, you are alive. There is matter, a world, people out somewhere around. Some of which don't wish to keep you here. You are just confined to this tiny, disgusting, horrifying room for the moment. A small snippet of your life. Maybe if you tell yourself that over and over again you'll stop panicking.Leaning against that same, freezing wall, you slide down into a sitting position. Raising your hand in front of your face, you can't help but giggle desperately at not being able to spy the outline of your appendage. You are blind, alone, friendless, joyless – sitting in what might as well be an infinite expanse of dark – a bitter chill seeping into your bones.A man could go mad in here.>Roll me 1d100 + 5, best of 3. This is a willpower check
Rolled 71 (1d100)>>468744
Rolled 47 + 5 (1d100 + 5)>>468744
Rolled 13 (1d100)>>468744Watch and learn
Rolled 23 (1d100)>>468744
Rolled 94 + 5 (1d100 + 5)>>468744Hum a song maybe
Rolled 27 (1d100)>>468744override
Rolled 54 (1d100)>>468744rolling to find a secret passage
Rolled 12 (1d100)>>468765roll to stop the rolling for something the QM wouldn't let you do BS
I think this is as good a place as any to stop for the night.:^)
>>468767Trick you're a Niger. I know what I said >>468749>>468758Backing these two if we get the chance.
>>468758Let's get this jail house rocking
>>468871get on discord
>>469514Can't, been busy, I'm only posting in small increments. Moment my connection stops being a piece of shit I come on Discord.
You lean against the wall, shivering. Staring out into total darkness for . . . hours? Minutes? It certainly can't have been days. No, not yet.. . .There is nothing to do. There is nowhere to go. The monotony of dead silence stirs you to hum yourself a tune, the ending song to 'The Life of Brian'. “Always looook on the briiiiight side of life!" Music escape your lips as you purse them together to whistle the tune.. . .Repeating the song over and over again to keep yourself sane, eventually your throat becomes parched and, realizing it may be some time before water is brought to you, you cease your morale-raising antics.. . .The urge to piss rises over the . . . hours? spent sitting in pitch black. You ultimately decide your stint in here will be longer than you wished and meander into the corner. The yellow stream stains the far corner of the cell.. . .Hunger gnaws at your stomach, the growling rumble at least a helpful noise to bring you out of your head for a moment. Awhile after the urge to sleep begins to dull your senses and thankfully the pain of thirst and hunger dim proportionally. Fighting to keep your eyes open, not exactly knowing how long you've been here, you comprehend that no jailer is feeding you tonight. Today. Whatever. Sleep is what you'll have for dinner and truthfully the chance to distance yourself momentarily from the discomfort of thirst and hunger is a pleasant thought to your addled mind.Taking some of the least smelly of the piss straw, you lay it out like a mattress. It doesn't help much and you make sure to keep it far from your mouth or head. Sleep does not come easy – but it comes quickly. . . .When your eyes shoot open . . . some amount of time later, you jolt up and sniff around your cell. Feeling around your sunless hell to determine if perhaps you may have slumbered through a jailer bringing you food. A good once, twice, thrice over search before you accept the reality that nothing new has been added. It's been a . . . day, you think – judging from the rough stubble that has sprouted on your usually smooth face – since your incarceration. . . .Is this how you die? Thrown in an underground cell, left to starve and freeze to death. A cruel assassination, indeed. Abandoned and forgotten. Whoever responsible – Cersei, Littlefinger, someone from Earth, treachery from a comrade – whoever they are, the disrespectful decision almost breaks you. Rotting in a cell brings about the idea they care so little about you. If they truly respected the threat you posed they'd have an assassin cut your throat by now. . . .You stop yourself from crying as you lie down, still as possible to preserve your strength, waiting for assistance or maybe . . . just death. The urge to defecate surges within you as time moves on, but you hope beyond all hope that soon SOON Tyrion or Jaime will come to your rescue. Open the door and safeguard you, dragging your weakened form to safety.
Benjen breaks down the door, Longclaw shining so bright in his hand that the light pouring off of it blinds you momentarily. He extends a hand out for you to take, that warm, reassuring smile plastered across his rugged features.“Food's here, prisoner!” your lover coarsely shouts at you. You squint in confusion and blink rapidly to clear your eyes of the newly formed tears. A portly, unshaven, unkempt man with a scarred face and dark beard stubble takes Benjen's place. The smell of sweat and sour wine exudes from his presence and proves an unexpectedly delightful reprieve from the stench of shit and piss. He has the spiked steel cap, leather half-cape and the weaponry befitting a jailer. For a mere moment you think to lunge for the dirk at his belt, but the mail over boiled leather he wears for armor scares you off from the potentially fatal notion.He places the tray he held in one hand on the floor in front of you and a hunk of hardened, stale bread rolls off of it towards you. Like a caged rat you lunge for it and tear into the feast with ravenous delight, the jailer standing above you – watching with some mix of pity and curiosity. You eventually notice the soup, hot and steaming, still sitting upon the tray. You lunge for that next, using a provided large spoon to scoop up a big portion. It smells delicious – much better than the bread you were engorging yourself with seconds earlier. As you raise the scrumptious delicacy to your lips --“The soup is poisoned,” your captor announces smoothly.The spoon clatters to the ground and pieces of celery and carrots spill across the floor as you spit out the few ounces of soup that touched your teeth.You wipe your lips and gums vigorously with your sleeve as panic sets in, breathing ragged.“You'll be fine,” the jailer continues. He deftly grabs a sack of wine at his hip and extends it forward in a gesture of geniality. You hesitate to grab it. He . . . giggles, in response. He brings the sack up to his mouth and squeezes it, drinking deeply and uttering a sound of contentedness, before tossing it back to you.The gift's purity assured, you drink in long gulps of the sweet, red liquid. By the time the sack is drained of its contents, you know exactly who it is standing above you.He is most assuredly a master of disguises.“Varys,” you rasp, wiping your mouth with the sleeve that doesn't have traces of soup poison.“William,” the spider replies. “William Shakespeare. Tyrion's personal bard, an aspiring squire to Ser Jaime Lannister, and a man with an eye for tourney winners. A killer, a foreigner, a liar, a gambler, a man with some ambitions and now slated for death by a queen. You are an interesting . . . pawn, to end up removed from the board so quickly. I have questions as to why.” >What do you say? (write-in)
>>472301>why does the queen want me dead?
>>472301Suffice to say I was born into this world with knowledge of what will happen in the months to come. Other people, like me, were born at the same time. One of those happens to be in the employ of Queen Cersei, and after verifying the truth of her new pet's statements she seeks to eliminate anyone else who may know her various and manifold damning secrets.I think, maybe. Can't really confirm any of that yet.
>>472301I've slighted the Queen in the past by refusing to be her bard. I'm sure she's simply seeing a convenient excuse to dispose of someone she dislikes.
>>472301>I have questions as to whyThat we cannot answer how and what is what we can answer.We cannot tell him why the potion that the man who bought him made him unable to move but we can tell him how.We know who he is and we can tell him that We Know of Aegon.I'm pretty sure that if Varys know we're a magical motherfucker he'll want us on his side for sure.
>>472301>What do you say? (write-in)Apparently I moved to quickly, that and I believe caught someones attention. I guess I should have been more patient. I was trying to raise to a point where I could change things for the better.Varys if I am to die here what I know must not go to waste, please if you have any questions ask them.As you would say, "everything I've done I did for the good of the realm." Such a shame, I wanted to do so many things and now, if I die here, in about 2 years all of Westeros dies too, talk about pressure.>>472325Don't say the name, say the Griffon and the young dragon.
>>472301"Then let us talk business my friend.""Knowledge is worth as much as gold and gems my friend."
>>472301>ask away, I can't guarantee, I'll answer everything though
Rolled 72 (1d100)>>472301Rolling so Trick starts writing.
>>472313Why does the Queen want me dead.>>472321Queen hates me cuz she's jelly of my bard skills>>472638Ask whatever you want baby>>472565I tell you what you know and you gimme dat gold>>472317Tell Varys you were born knowing everything as were others, that's why you're wanted dead>>472325We know a bunch of shit breh>>472337I tried to make dat money but someone noticed. I know some shit and I'll tell you all about it.Alright, I see a sort of common thread in some of these postsWriting!
>>472642Gib me that gold to make to Velo talk
“Why?” you echo the eunuch's question. “Why, because I have knowledge. I know so many things about this world we inhabit, yet . . . I have moved too quickly. Queen Cersei Lannister knows the information I posses makes me a potential threat and that means I must be eliminated. Allowed to live freely I could ruin the kingdom.”Varys merely looks at you warily over the tip of his nose. “And why should I believe this grand tale?” Varys shrugs flamboyantly. “Perhaps you merely insulted the Queen and in spiteful malice she conspired to have you killed. How could you possibly acquire this . . . abundance of information? You have no armies, no lands, no influence, no great allies, no spies, no gold –”“I have gold,” you counter. “And allies.”Varys giggles. “Three sellswords and a bedmate do not make for powerful allies. The Imp has no sway over a court which despises him for being born. Nor does his elder brother act when his twin forbids him. And as for gold? Tywin Lannister has gold. The Queen of Thorns has gold. Even Littlefinger – in his own, mischievous ways – has gold. You have a small sum of clinking coins, stripped from you in mere moments.”Varys gestures to your surroundings. “Where is your gold when you need it most.”“Even if I don't have it on me I still have it!”“You cannot take it with you to the grave,” Varys chides with a shake of his head.You breathe out, eyeing the Spider and his sidearm cautiously. There's a chance you could take him in a fight, but for all you know, Varys is actually well-trained with that weapon. “Save me from poison just to stab me? What's the point in that?” 'The Master of Whisperes chuckles callously. “I cannot save you from the Queen. Not now. And certainly not in the coming days. No . . . William Shakespeare dies tonight in his cell and the Spider will not be washed out trying to spare him. It would be . . . a bad gamble. An unnecessary risk.”"However,” Varys says with a shrug. “Sing to me, bard. Sing me a song so sweet it warranted the permanent silence of your voice.”He wants a demonstration, does he?>Here in the black cells sits a man with no face>The Crown Prince is no stag, but a lion through and through>The Spider gathers the Griffon and The Dragon across the Narrow Sea >Something else? (write-in)
>>472755>The Spider gathers the Griffon and The Dragon across the Narrow Sea
>>472756This It's millennium
>>472756>>472764dont do it, thats gonna have him kill us
>>472755>"The Prince who was promised yet lives."
>>472755The Queen Locked me up because>The Crown Prince is no stag, but a lion through and throughMaybe fate delivered me to>Here in the black cells sits a man with no faceA shame the true king lives, i'd have liked to see it since>The Spider gathers the Griffon and The Dragon across the Narrow SeaThat's where my loyalties lie, with a good king, a true king and kingdom of peace
>>472773switching to this
>>472755>>Something else? (write-in)>>472773>>472776Kinda combine these, tell him if we are going to die tonight. We'll atleast tell him everything we know. Even tell him the story of how he was cut.We've seen so many futures, so much misery and death, but those were futures we'd not seen. We're trying to build a better future.If we are going to Die and he's walking out on us tell him we have one secret we're gonna hold onto, till the very last second. (John Targeryan)
>>472781Don't tell him everything.
>>472781>Cool, thanks for telling me everything, you are useless to me nowDon't just blow your wad, faggot.
>>472755>The Crown Prince is no stag, but a lion through and throughWe should toss this in there as well.
We could sing him a song about Queen Cersei and Maggy the Frog. It's a song that Varys would no doubt find interesting and it's a song that would no doubt warrant our death.
>>472773Seconding.Don't tell him more, just allude to the fact that we know the chess board and the players, as well as how the game plays out.
>>472755>The Crown Prince is no stag, but a lion through and throughThe Queen looses sleep because another like me is out there, likely behind the Old Lion of Casterly Rock. Now I know I'm not the only one, maybe she is fearful of Magey the frogs prophesy.There are many secrets in these cells alone. A shame, if I die here tonight I'll never get to meet the Griffon and young Dragon.If he asks however know, we simply tell him actors and bards... We both deal in secrets.If he turns to leave call behind him "the voice from the furnace, what does it sound like..." if we get his attention we can push the advantage
>>472755>The Crown Prince is no stag, but a lion through and through
>>472756>>472764Varys is backing Aegon and Jon Connington>>472773>>472777>>472796>>472919The Prince who Was Promised>>472776>>472781Everything bitches>>473928>>474097Joffrey is a product of incest.Writing!
You hand the sack of wine back to Varys. He takes it and shoves the deflated sack into a crevice or pocket in his jailer's getup. “The Prince who was Promised yet Lives,” you tell him, crawling over and sitting back against the front wall of your cell, content to digest your bread and wine in some manner of peace. You rumble a gut laugh at your choice of subject matter to reveal.Varys seems much less enthused, squatting low, the torch he holds coming a bit too close to your face for comfort. You can feel the burning warmth of it heat your skin, the crackle of the burning wood sending sparks flying that put you on edge.The Eunuch tuts in disappointment as he shakes his head with a sigh. “I ask you for whispers and you grant me legends and prophecy.”“This is no prophecy,” you reply in defense.Varys grants you a chastising stare. “Rhaegar Targaryen was the 'Prince who was Promised' – in his own mind. He thought he had some grand destiny before him because it was prophecised. And he died on the Trident, breastplate crushed by an usurper's warhammer. He once claimed – after the birth of his son Aegon – that he was the 'Prince who was Promised'. And poor baby Aegon's head was crushed by Ser Gregor Clegane, The Mountain that Rides.”You shake your head. “They were wrong. Neither of them were the Prince who was Promised. I know who the Prince who was Promised is. Truly!”Varys sighs again. “And who, exactly, do you believe is the prophecised hero of legend – destined to lead the realms of men from darkness?”>Daenerys Targaryen – The Mother of Dragons>Jon Snow – Rhaegar's last living child>Stannis Baratheon – Azor Ahai Reborn>Brandon Stark – A warg who will destroy the White Walkers>Aegon the VI – A boy who still yet lives>Someone Else? (write-in)
>>474516>Jon Snow – Rhaegar's last living child
>>474516>>Jon Snow – Rhaegar's last living child
>>474516>Jon Snow – Rhaegar's last living childWe should also smile and say, sure, sure Aegon died. I'm pretty sure hecwas whisked away by a Griffon. A spider laying a decoy
We should say if he wants whispers how about the lion pretending to because stag? The bastard son if to lions. How is lord Stark doing on that front anyway
Aegon is riskiest, bookwise we still dont know if he's the boy who lived, or Illyrio's Blackfyre son>I like the Blackfyre history so i root for that one.
>>474516Should also tell him not to trust prophecy too much. Words are wind and all it takes to change a prophecy is simply to choose to do things differently than was intended.
“Jon Snow.”Your pithy answer confuses the mock jailer. “A bastard?”You nod. “Eddard Stark's bastard. Although he's no bastard. And while Stark blood flows through him, Eddard is not his father.” A small smirk graces the eunuch's visage. You're dangling it in front of him like a tantalizing, juicy piece of meat. You truly believe in that split second that this is all a game to him. A game of riddles and secrets with the ultimate stakes on the line. Varys rummages his brain to parse your vague statement. “If not Eddard's, then it must be one of his siblings, yes?”You nod. “Well his brothers Benjen and Brandon could very well have fathered some daughter – although unwed at the time . . .”Varys trails off as the realization hits him and his mouth drops, eyes glazed over at the epiphany. Silence passes in your cell as the eunuch stands to his full height, rapidly calculating something in his head.“Even so, he would still be a bastard,” Varys snaps at you.You shrug. “Targaryens have taken multiple wives in the past. A private ceremony and he, by the Targaryen line of succession, becomes next in line for the throne. Before Viserys Targaryen himself.”“But not before Aegon,” you barely catch a hint of The Spider's muttered whispering. Seems your revelation has proven quite the shock to him. “Why should I believe you?”You chuckle. “Really? I don't need evidence – the character testimony speaks for itself. Eddard is too honorable to break his vows of marriage. Rhaegar was too noble and gallant to rape or kidnap Lyanna. Lyanna was too free-spirited to suffer Robert's whoring and still love him. Robert is too vengeful for any man to reveal they are related to the Targaryens while he sits the Iron Throne. Eddard goes south and returns to his wife with a newborn child. You tell me, Varys, what do you believe happened!”Varys sighs out, although this one is much more defeated than annoyed. “I believe your song, bard. Where is the boy now?”You squint your eyes, staring at him to pierce his motive. You don't wish to get an assassin sent after the poor boy. “At the Wall. Soon to take his vows.”Varys nods, like a man who has had a major concern swept off his shoulders. “Good. Safest place for the boy, in the coming times.”
Varys reaches out with one leather-clad hand, gesturing for you to take it.Oh goodie! You will your arm to rise up and grab your smelly savior's hand.Except your arm refuses to rise. You look down at it, shock and horror plain upon your visage. You attempt to lift the other one and it refuses your mental command as well.Looking back up to Varys for relief, you watch as he slowly drops his hand back to his side, his beady brown eyes peering at you, satisfied. As if everything is going according to plan.“Varys! The soup!” you shout to him. The Eunuch giggles. “Don't worry, the soup's poison did not take hold of you.” He makes his way to the still-open, solid, wooden door of your cell. As he grasps the handle to pull it close behind him – trapping you in here again – you attempt to stand up.Your legs won't respond either. They're numb and lifeless.Varys starts to close the door, but catches the look of horror in your eyes as he is about to exit. Your expression garners some small measure of mercy from him, so he deigns to explain himself. “The bread was also poisoned. I told you. William Shakespeare dies tonight. And the spider will not risk his own life to save him.” You go to scream obscenities at the cruel, cowardly, treacherous, back-stabbing eunuch . . . but no sound comes out. The door slams shut, loud, heavy and final behind the torch-carrying courtier. You are stuck again in darkness. . . .Soon even your jaw refuses to move. It is impossible to tell when your vision starts to go black, dying in the lightless prison. Immobile, consciousness fades as the poison takes hold of your heart, slowing and stopping its rhythm. The lack of oxygen to your brain causes swirling, dancing visions of devils and monsters – one last cruel torment before you pass on. You recognize in your delirium that one small dark nugget of humor still rooted in your dying brain wishes to make a hilarious jab.You have not won The Game of Thrones.>Play as Raina>Play as ???
>>475052>Play as ???
And so we were dead no matter what we said. Great
RIP again dumbass!