Fandom ~Full~ GoT: A Hunt for Dragons

[NanLia]

​

Gerrad Lannister stood from the head of the Small Council table as the remainder started to vacate. Another meeting wherein the rumours and in-fighting was becoming tiresome. He had hoped, when taking the position offered by King Ronas, that he could follow in his grandfather's path and continue the work of building a better world for the people of Westeros. What it had been, in fact, was five years of listening to other adults whine and moan because their voices hadn’t been heard, or their wishes hadn’t been granted. Even now he was beyond annoyed by the response from the Kingdom’s Lords and Ladies; even the King in the North had responded with a pithy comment about helping ‘another Kingdom with their troubles’ . So far as he could tell, these ‘troubles’ were everyone's, even if they didn’t wish to acknowledge them.

A month before, the ravens had been sent to each of the Noble Houses across the Kingdoms. The King was calling the Houses to deliver unto King’s Landing and the Red Keep the best of their warriors, hunters, learned scholars, and masters of industry. There was a need growing in the Kingdom that only the finest could solve. What had the Kingdom turned over to them? The deformed. The outcasts. The bastards of the lands. It was an insult to the King and by rights should be met with repercussions! He had told the King himself and much to his utter dismay the response from the King was hardly what he wanted.

“You are the Hand of the King,” he was told, the older, former Baratheon head of House calmly told him. “But you are not the King yourself. If this is what the provinces of my Kingdom believe are the best of the best, then it is what we will work with. I do not need quarrelling and in-fighting at a time like this. Put them to use for the good of the realm.”

Naturally he wouldn’t simply rely on just the freaks and bastards from the Kingdoms with this task. No, he had not been banned from hiring mercenaries to flesh out their needs. If he were to trust any of them, it would be the ones here for the coin.

He headed towards the open archway leading to a balcony, one of many, overlooking King’s Landing. The sun was starting to set over the western wall of the city, casting a long shadow over the merchants and townsfolk going about their day. Little did they know about the arising threat looming in the East. He sighed heavily and turned to the attendant still standing vigilant in the council room. “Go, summon in my would-be heroes. We have much to discuss.” Beside him was the banner of the king -- a white tree on a golden banner -- flickered in the winds as they quickly shifted direction.

Spoiler: Intro Post

You were summoned by your liege lord to attend King’s Landing at the behest of the King. Neither you nor your liege lord are aware of what this meeting is about; the only direction was to pack for a long journey and to bring whatever equipment you deemed necessary for your specialty.
As you are now late, you receive final correspondence to meet with the remaining part of your group at the docks at a ship called Yorith.

 

[NanLia]

Lexia Greyjoy sat back in the high backed chair, feet resting on the table as she watched two women dance and twirl and giggled before the low burning hearth at the end of the ‘great’ hall. The Iron Islands keep had an odd and honestly eerie similarity to that of her home at Pyke. Almost as though they had hired one or more to recreate the castle in keep form thousands of miles away. Even down to the stone and it’s wet sheen. She certainly wasn’t the only that watched the dancers, hired from within King’s Landing. The men from her ship were also scattered around the hall, drinking and relaxing. The haul from the Iron Islands had been a bore; little else to do but gamble and after spending months in close quarters with one another you started to catch all the little tells your opponents had. Games on the seas became dangerous - instead of gambling with die or cards they gambled in far higher stakes. None bothered to challenge Lexia, however. The last who had had lost a months wages to her, of course she’d had the advantage: who could out last the other whilst being dragged behind the ship within the waves. Lex was born of the sea, daughter of the Deep One, she was home within the waves.

“Lex!” The first girl shrieked and laughed, stumbling and bumping along the edge of the table until she dropped heavily onto Lex’s lap, all the while sloshing the wine in her dainty glass cup. “Lex,” She said breathlessly, “Come and dance with us. It’ll be fun.” She pouted, leaning into the Ironborn. “We heard you seafaring folk are quick on yer feet.” She tilted her head aside, watching Lex. “We’d like to see it!”

The second girl soon hung over the back of the chair, adding her own pout and soft sigh. “I don’t care about dancing. Sing us a shanty!”

Lexia rolled her eyes, several of the crew laughing softly but the girls ignored it. “I’ll do neither, thank you.” She pushed away the offered glass of wine with the back of her hand, her nose wrinkling. “Instead, I think I’ll retire for the evening.” She let her legs drop, the girl on her lap nearly tumbling onto the floor. Lucky for the girl, Lex caught her by the upper arm, though the wine could not be save. “Easy girl. I didn’t pay for bruises and blood.”

“Lady Lexia Greyjoy,” a drab voice spoke from the entryway to the hall. The girls stood quickly, adjusting their clothing in an attempt to look presentable. Lex huffed, rising from the chair and stretching. She ignored the voice, instead sliding an arm over the first girls shoulders. “Come girly, I’ll show you what the Ironborn was truly good at.” She glanced over her shoulder and held out a hand for the other. “Come along.”

The man, garbed in robes of white and gold, frowned deeply at her. He cleared his throat and spoke again. “Lady Greyjoy I hav-”

“Best you be calling her by her true name.” One of the crew muttered before drinking deeply from his tankard, others nodding.

Inhaling deeply the summoner spoke again. “Lord Captain Greyjoy,” This time Lexia paused, regarding him cooly. “I have been sent to retrieve you. The small council has concluded for the evening and the Hand of the King wishes to speak to you.”

Lexia watched him a moment longer before nodding. “I’ll be along shortly.” She leaned in to press a kiss to the cheek of the first girl, before the second. “My men will pay you,” She said, releasing the girl. “For the time that you’ve spent here today.” Stepping towards the table she collected her leather belt, looping it, with her weapons, back around her hips. “And they’ll pay you for any time you spend with them.” She continued. Neither girl looked surprised but Lex spoke again. “However, I’ll pay you four times that if you stay here and keep my bed warm until I return.”

The girls grinned and nodded, “We’ll wait for you!” One called as the other dragged her along down the hall. Lexia smirked and turned back to the crew within the halls, many of which seemed sour. “Come off it, there are plenty of whores in King’s Landing. Go find your own.”

***​

Lexia hated being early for anything, but this was likely the worst ever. She arrived at the portcullis leading to the courtyard wherein she was escorted through the rebuild Red Keep. Of course she had heard the tales of old where Bran the Broken had strived to rebuild the Red Keep in its previous liking. The whole affair had taken long, much longer than Bran’s own life, and the truth of it was by the time it was done, no one alive knew what the original had looked like for certain.

Through the winding halls she followed the attendant, receiving shocked looks and glares as they proceeded, she did not once bother to hide her hands. Years ago, when she had been a child, her mother had brought her to this very keep. Her mother had told her father they were here to pay tribute to the King when the truth had been her mother had brought her to seek out the help of the Grand Maester. Despite the attempt to remove the webbing when she was an infant, her mother had remained convinced that the right person with the exacting knowledge could cure her of her ailment. She’d been wrong and Lex could recall with exacting detail the pain and torture she endured at the hands of the Maester who thought he knew better than the Drowned God.

Stepping into the council chambers Lexia looked over the empty chairs set around the table, annoyed she was the first summoned. At the balcony she could see a figure, she assumed the Hand of the King as he called for her to sit and wait for the others to gather. With a huff she stepped towards the table, dragging out a chair and dropping into it.

 

[sitanomoto]

Arthur Velaryon was not used to being sent out on his own like this. His mother and Father had both blanched when he was summoned, and the poor young man had to listen to them bicker behind closed doors for Hours about whether or not he should go. It would be rude, very, very rude, to refuse a summons, but their only heir would be sent out into the world with his....
"Disfiguration."
Arthur, of course, jumped at the chance to explore more of Westeros, eagerly giving his affirmative that he would go. His father agreed, but his mother, worrisome woman that she was, objected about her baby going beyond their political reach.
In the end, his father had won. He always did, eventually, and Arthur had excitedly packed for the journey, all the while talking excitedly with Nox. The wolf simply watched.
On the whole, while he was excited to leave and the thought of getting to meet other people delighted him, he was also very worried about his antlers. The people at home might be used to the long, silver growths on top of his head , but there would be no "Young Lord Arthur, come and see what we have today!" From the merchants, no "Ah, Young Lord Arthur! Come to visit the docks again, eh?" From the crews coming into port, and certainly no "Lord Arthur! Lord Arthur! Can we please pet your companion?" From the children. Hostility and prejudice was expected. His mother insisted on him bringing her dagger with him. He agreed, but only to ease her mind.
He had traveled to King's Landing two days later. It took an entire day for his father to whittle his mother down to a place where she could allow him to go.
Nox, of course, would not leave his side. He would be safe with your dagger. He's a political expert at this point. No one in their right mind would attack the only Heir to the Velaryons in a time of peace.

Arthur hoped that was true as he watched home fade away over the horizon.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Moments after he arrived in King's Landing, he was ogled at. A boy of 19 sprouting long silver antlers who was accompanied by a dire wolf as black as night during a storm was sure to draw attention. A simple smile, he had hoped, would be enough to put others at ease.
Not so the case.

Whispers followed him about on the streets, and eyes trailed after him as he walked. Arthur made it to his own Keep relatively without incident (if you don't count having a hardy root vegetable thrown at your head an "incident"), and he settled down in the bedroom he was designated. Nox lept up on the foot of the bed with a huff and settled down as Arthur took out his notebook and began to write about his observations of King's Landing.
~~~~~~~~~
Arthur had spent a day or two inside the keep, not daring to leave. He was eating a simple meal, feeding pieces of his meat to Nox, when the messenger arrived to summon him.
"Young Lord Velaryon, The Hand of the King wishes to speak--" he stopped, fully taking in Arthur's antlers. The messenger floundered for a moment, staring, until a soft growl from Nox snapped him back to the present. He cleared his throat and continued. "To speak with you. The small council has concluded for the evening and I have been instructed to escort you to the Red Keep."

"Well," Arthur replied chipperly, tossing the last of his meat to Nox and taking a long drink from his glass. "Let's not keep them waiting! Lead the way, sir!" He stood, thanked the attendants for the meal, and followed the messenger out with Nox close on his heels.

The glares he got on his way to the keep were the worst yet. When he had crossed the portcullis to the courtyard, he was aware of harsh eyes on him and of the harsh whispers that followed. He immediately began to get nervous.

The Dire wolf at his side sensed his growing apprehension, and butted his hand softly with her head. The young man smiled and rested his hand on top of Nox's head until they reached the council chambers. He took in the breathtaking architecture, the beauty of the high-arched ceilings, and felt a sense of childlike wonder.

It probably showed in the wide grin on his face.

He looked around the room and took a seat far from the only other person at the table (he didn't want to be that odd person who sat right next to someone in a room full of empty seats. Who does that?). A moment later and he had taken out his notebook, quill, and small inkwell, and had begun to draw out the scene before him, up to and including the two people in the room.

Nox watched his quill with intrigue, cocking her head as it scribbled over the page.

 

[Midrick]

Treghar had been having a great time in kings landing so far, an urchin had stolen a coin bag with a generous amount of currency, and he had been forced to chase down the little shit into a brothel, disrupting several 'wrestling' matches. He finally got his coin sack back, he had half a mind to head back to the brothel for his troubles. His years of training had paid off because that little street child was so fast he was halfway to the marketplace before Treghar could get a hand around his collar. On his way into the brothel, he noticed some of the patrons he had disrupted were wearing the attire of city guards. "Uh oh." he said in a low voice before trying to back away slowly. in doing so he bumped into one the whores inhabiting the place. "Well, aren't you handsome one." she cooed as she sidled up to his side grabbing his left arm. He was trying his hardest to nonchalantly exit the establishment, a man with two swords and armor on wasn't hard to miss. The three city watchmen turned to see the girl attached to his side and begin walking towards him.

"Ah shit, here we go." he said as he prepared for his first of many fist fights in kings landing. The whore barely had time to dislodge herself before a fist came sailing towards Treghar, with his training with blades also came unarmed fighting, which he was equally skilled at. After blocking and parrying the first few attacks before going on the offensive, the three men fighting him one on one instead of using the numbers advantage, after many throws, kicks, and punches that resulted in them falling into the rooms of patrons in the middle of their activities, the four of them finally spilled out into the streets.

Between the screaming whores, angry patrons, and cheering crowd that was forming, Treghar was actually enjoying this fight. He had knocked out on of the watchmen back in the brothel, beat one so hard he just decided to stay down, and was currently rolling in the dirt attached to the leader of the group, which also happened to be the best fighter out of all of the watchmen. Despite all the recounts of fights where insults where hurled when not actively engaged in trying to clobber someone, it was mostly just grunts, snarls, and heavy breathing between them both.

Treghar had throughly pummeled the guardsmans face before he submitted, kings landing had turned out to be a fun place after all, no long winded accusations or arguments, people here just got straight to the punching part. After dusting himself off, Treghar's usually neat hair had become a snarl of brown in front of and to the right of his head, which he began to fix, if he hadn't been so preoccupied with his hair he would've seen the patrol of guardsman coming.

-------------
​

After another short period of fighting he was forcefully escorted back to the barracks of the gold cloaks and held there for an hour before what looked to be a messenger flanked by two masked kings guardsmen approached the cell. "I assume you are a mercenary?" the messenger asked in a regal tone. "No, I'm a bard." Treghar replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he motioned to the swords resting on the table across from his cell. the messenger unlocked the door and motioned for Treghar to follow, while one of the kings guard grabbed his swords and shoved them into his chest. He had them hanging in their sheaths by the time he was taken to a room and ushered in without any explanation, what he found was a woman in iron islander garb and a boy with antlers and a wolf. Treghar stopped to look at both, his time in astapor and the other free cities had seasoned him to seeing extremely odd people and things.

he simply walked over to the table and grabbed a chair, leaned back, and put his feet on the table, tips of the sheaths of his swords brushing the ground at his hips. "So an iron islander, a highborn freak, and a sellsword walk into a room. This sounds like the start of a joke." he said as he unsheathed the sword on his left, inspecting the blade for any damage or marks.

 

[Crono]

When the summons had come from Kings Landing it was shrouded in mystery. Likely purposeful he'd surmised, and so had his father Derren Blackwater. Andren had expected his older brother and heir to the house to be sent considering his capabilities in many fields, however their father opted to send Andren instead. He knew exactly why, despite his father caring for him on a basic level, he saw his second-born son as expendable. Not that Andren without his own capabilities, especially with the bow. Few to none within The Reach's borders could match his shots, thanks to the masterful training of his teacher.

Andren milled about the couryard at Highgarden prepping his horse, four of his father's men were doing the same nearby. When a slap of a hand landed on his shoulder followed by a chuckle Andren sighed, turning his head to see his elder brother Asher smiling at him. "Stop sulking, you get to go to King's Landing. Enjoy yourself while you're there!" The man was far more excited about this than Andren was himself. The younger moved carefully out of palm whilst turning to face Asher, "That's easy for you to say brother, you wouldn't have father's watchdog's watching your every move." He'd glanced their direction to be sure they hadn't heard which seemed correct. His older brother scoffed before moving to check on the straps on his horse. "What, afraid I'm going to fall off?" His tone one of amusement. "Wouldn't be the first time."

-----

Since arriving in King's Landing Andren had opted to stay within The Reach's keep. Frankly if he went out into King's Landing he had little doubt the few men that had come with him in his fathers service would have followed. Not so much to protect him but to keep an eye on him if he were to do anything that would dishonor his house. His father was looking for an excuse to send him to the wall, it forced Andren to be careful of his choices even when at home. Derren Blackwater was convinced of a sort of prophecy that had been passed down over the years, one that Andren had coincidentally half-fulfilled.

He was firing shots into hay bale's near the stables of The Reach's keep to satisfy his boredom. He'd been to King's Landing a few times in the past, it was a marvel sure, but he was content for the time being on what he'd already seen. After firing one such arrow he spotted movement in the nearby doorway before a man stepped out in robes with a small bow, "Lord Blackwater I've been sent to escort you to a meeting with the hand of the King." The man stated simply. Andren was thankful he was finally about to find out what he'd been asked here for. With a nod he moved to strap his bow to his horse Rowan knowing they likely wouldn't allow him into said meeting armed. "I wouldn't suppose you have an idea on what this is all about?" He'd asked curiously, as he started following the man. "I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to say even if I did m'lord." Not that Andren was surprised.

-----

The trip was a relatively quiet one after that. Moving through the winding streets to the Red Keep, a place he'd honestly only seen from afar. This time however he was going inside. After they'd reached their destination the robed man gave another small bow before disappearing, Andren glanced at the guards at the door before stepping inside. Just in time to hear the man with his feet on the table attempt something of a jest, but mildly introducing who he was looking at conveniently. Andren's eyes were quickly drawn to the antler's and webbed hands on the other two and for a moment he wondered if maybe he was brought to the wrong room. I swear to the seven if my father sent me here to be cured with these people. The young man attempted not to let his internal frustration show, instead moving to an empty seat and slipping into it quietly. "If this is a joke, I'm not interested." He'd stated simply in regards to the sellsword's comment.​

 

[Safton]

Haedrin crested the hill, gently nudging the reins to bring Ashe to a stop. The animal halted without complaint, shaking her head with a slight huff as a cloud of dust rose up from the passage of a wagon in front of them. Behind Haedrin, the pack mule he had tethered to follow alongside them on the journey took his own much-needed break, glancing at his master and the surroundings with soulful black eyes. While Ashe bore her rider and a few saddlebags full of essentials, the pack animal was loaded down with the man's arms, armor, and travel gear.

Haedrin glanced along the Kingsroad as it sloped gently down toward the metropolis in the distance: King's Landing. It had been several years since he had last gazed on the capital in all its glory: back before he left for Essos and was still traveling the lands as a hedge knight, seeking tournament prize money. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. Haedrin had been back in Westeros for months, returning home to a sick older brother. The Maesters hadn't minced words in making their assessment: Ruanic was not long for this world. With his eldest son still a young boy, several in House Caydus had beseeched Haedrin to stay and serve as Lord-Regent until the heir came of age.

But Haedrin had heard rumors in Jon II Arryn's court about a recent request for royal assistance on a confidential matter -- a request the Vale's knights and lords had seemed reluctant to answer. The decision came more easily than he liked to admit. For the second time, he turned his back on his family and his duty, leaving his home behind. He defended the decision in saying that he was fulfilling his oath to the Kingdoms as a whole, serving the greater good... but the hardest person to lie to is oneself. Haedrin bit his lip, shaking the thoughts away before clicking his tongue and urging Ashe forward, toward the city.

***​

Haedrin spent the next four days at the Keep of the Vale, residing in the markedly empty quarters. With no noteworthy dignitaries from the Vale staying in the capital at the time, he had the immense structure to himself aside from a skeleton crew of servants, cooks, and a small detachment of City Watchmen. He wasn't sure if the gold cloaks were there to keep the riffraff from harassing him -- as if anyone in the city knew or cared who he was -- or to prevent him from leaving should he get second thoughts. Any attempts at gathering information about what the royal tasking involved had been met with conspicuous silence. So Haedrin had resigned himself to biding his time visiting the surrounding markets and taverns. If he wasn't doing that, he was in the courtyard practicing his swordsmanship or in the stables grooming Ashe so many times that he was quite sure the warhorse had given him a look of annoyed pity the last time he'd brought out the small brush.

One night he had been summoned to the front gates of the Keep, where the gold cloaks were attempting to dismiss a man insistently trying to gain entry. He was well-dressed, accompanied by an entourage of young women in clothing that bordered on scandalous, even by the standards of the capital. As it happened, he was a purveyor of one of the local brothels and had heard about someone staying in the Keep, wrongly assuming that meant several well-lined pockets and lusty noblemen. Upon seeing Haedrin step outside, several of the whores eyed him up and down without hesitation, a few of their eyes widening at his stature as he stood a full head taller than the armored gold cloaks. The manager, to his credit, wasted no time in launching his sales pitch -- offering the knight his "pick of the litter", as he called it -- only for Haedrin to politely decline. Desperately, he drew closer and remarked in a hushed tone that his brothel also had several male employees. Again, Haedrin turned him away. For many, a few hours of fun and amiable companionship might have been an attractive offer to relieve the boredom and apprehension. But not for Haedrin; chivalric values aside, whores -- male or female -- had never been his way.

It was for that reason that Haedrin groaned inwardly when he was once again called out to the front gates this afternoon, fully expecting the brothel owner or another to be waiting for him (this time without the decency to even wait for nightfall). However, as it happened the young man who awaited him outside was garbed in the manner that Haedrin immediately recognized a courtier, likely a squire in service to the King. "Good afternoon, Ser Haedrin," the squire remarked in a tone that betrayed someone trying too hard to speak in perfect King's Landing Common.

Haedrin inclined his head lightly toward the teen, who took a deep breath before continuing. "Your presence is requested by the Hand of the King."

Haedrin nodded, a sense of equal parts relief and anxiety welling up in his chest. "Very well. Lead the way."

The squire did as he was told, Haedrin following behind him as he weaved his way confidently down the streets of King's Landing toward the Red Keep. The pair caught a few glances, most of them looking beyond the well-dressed courtier to his comparably "rugged" companion. Haedrin was sure he looked somewhat out of place, especially as they drew nearer to the Red Keep itself. In contrast to his escort's finely-embroidered tunic, Haedrin only wore wore dark breeches and an off-white shirt underneath a black padded gambeson and leather riding boots. His falchion and dagger were both sheathed on his belt. Aside from his height, his complexion also undoubtedly set him apart. Once rather pale, his skin had darkened to a light shade of bronze after years beneath the sun of Essos. That along with his dark hair meant more than a few of the smallfolk had mistaken him for a foreigner over the previous few weeks.

Haedrin's guide led him inside the Red Keep, the guards outside parting to let them pass. Before long, the squire was opening a wooden door and stepping aside, ushering Haedrin into the room beyond: the Small Council Chamber. The Chamber was ornately-decorated, a large oaken table dominating the center of the room. However, Haedrin was far from the first to arrive: four people were already settled inside. As he entered, he couldn't help but notice a young man scrawling away at a piece of parchment near the table, silver antlers sprouting from his head. This was only scarcely more eye-drawing than the immense black wolf resting alongside him. The knight had seen many things across the Narrow Sea, but this was new even by his standards. Haedrin's eyebrows shot up, but luckily he remembered his manners before he made too much of a fool of himself, breaking his gaze and moving quietly toward the table.

He pulled a chair out about halfway down, taking a seat. He noted the figure outside on the balcony, his posture straight and regal. The Hand himself, no doubt. Under more conventional circumstances, Haedrin might approach him and introduce himself as courtly manners dictated... but everything about this situation told him it was far from conventional. Instead, his eyes roamed the room to take in his other "companions". One was a dark-haired man, perhaps a few years younger than himself clad in a leather tunic. The other was, quite unmistakably, a sellsword (and one who'd been in a scuffle recently, by the look of him). Haedrin found himself unconsciously sizing the man up -- not with any hostile intentions in mind, but as a force of habit: one hired blade recognizing another.

Haedrin's gaze moved onto the final occupant, the only woman for the time being. Forced to guess by her garb, he would assume she was a sailor. An Iron Islander, perhaps -- or from the Stormlands. It took a moment before his eyes fell down to where her hands rest on the table, webbing between each of the fingers. Had he not entered the room to the sight of an antlered man and a direwolf, the sight might have fazed him more. Instead, he simply turned away, resisting the urge to frown at his confusion.

 

[General_warNpeace]

Relina SnowSnake
When the raven arrived Dario, the clan leader, wanted to reject it. After all the problem's within the kingdom's don't have anything to do with them and he wasn't going to send anyone to travel to the south just because someone claim's there's a problem. Especially since House Stark, the closest thing to a liege lord the free folk had, already rejected the summons. However, the message caused unrest among the clan as Elders that had lived through the night king were reminded of their own search for help among the houses and feared that history may be repeating itself.

The issue grew until many of the clan was taking sides and finally Relina volunteered to answer the summons herself and hear what the King has to say. Dario reluctantly agreed knowing she was liable to disappear in the night even if he said no. Relina's cousin Castier, who had heard stories of the brothels, and Ryner, who had spent much of his life in Winterfell, offered to be her guides. They left a few days later and were given some horses while passing through Winterfell. House Stark's acceptance to answer the summon's as representatives of House Stark and the Free Folk. The horses made the journey go by much faster then on foot and the three were thankful for them.
............
"How do the southern c*nts live like this?" Relina growled as she was forced to remove her last layer of furs leaving her in only her light leather armor. It was clear when they left the North because almost immediately It began to get warmer. Now almost to King's Landing the heat was stifling compared to the cold temperatures Relina was used to. It was nice at first but now she wishes she never left home.

"Maybe they walk around butt naked with their peckers and breast hanging out?" Her cousin Castier asked, grinning widely at the thought of woman walking around unclothed. "Though I'm guessing they would have to stop being stuck up little sh*ts for that."

"That's what all the brothels are for boy." Ryner stated knocking shoulder's with Castier from where he rode beside him, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. "An excuse to get naked and cool down with each other. "

"Better not let them see you then Castier, your so pretty they may decide to kidnap you to get cool with " Relina joked, referring to his red hair that was constantly tended to. A strange habit as most of their people care little for the appearance of their hair. Barking out a laugh Ryner almost fell off his horse
and Relina smirked at the glare she received. Looking ahead she saw shapes beginning to appear over the skyline. "Seem's like we are about there. Better keep a tight grip on your maidenhood Castier."

................

They were greeted by members of the Kings guard at the gates and after they showed the summons was led to the Keep of the North. They made camp in the great hall of the keep, preferring to stick together, and dined on the food and wine provided for them.

Relaxing against Ice with a tankard of ale in hand Relina listened absently to Castier's story of when he encountered a bear while hunting. Last time he told the story the bear had been eight feet tall and now it was at least twelve feet. Rolling her eyes Relina soon tuned out her cousins chatter while she thought about the trip. They encountered very few people on the road and when they did they seemed more focused on the fact they were free folk. Then they arrived at King's landing and Relina could tell that people had yet to forget about what happened there years ago. Men and woman stared at her atop her horse, at her silver hair and the exposed scales down her arms and around her neck, with suspicion and fear. Relina ignored them for the most part, sneering at a few that shot her dirty looks and was secretly glad that Ice walked beside her allowing her to curl her hands into her fur for comfort. Castier and Ryner to seemed to catch the looks as they had drawn close to her and glared back at the people. It was a relief when they made it to the Keep of the North and could escape the stares and pungent smell of shit. Relina was drawn from her thoughts by the sound of a sniveling voice. "I have come to escort Lady Relina to meet with the Hand of the Kings."

Castier and Ryner paused in their joking and turned twin glares onto the thin man standing at the entrance of the great hall. The man started to tremble under the stares much to Relina's amusement. Snorting, she sat down her tankard and got up from where she lay ignoring the man's wide eyed stare as she approached with Ice by her side."Lead the way then."

They arrived at what Relina assumed to be the Red Keep with little trouble and soon she was being ushered into a small chamber where other's where already waiting. She paused noticing that for once she wasn't the oddest looking person in the room. One of the men had giant silver antlers growing out of his head and giant Direwolf by his side and the only other woman in the room had what looked to be webbing between her fingers. Raising a brow Relina sat in one of the empty chairs. "I can already tell I'm going to need a drink to get through this meeting."

 

[NanLia]

Lexia didn't have to wait long for another to arrive, thankful for the interruption of silence she turned to partially greet this other person only to pause and stare at the silvery antlers that passed her by. Lips parted to speak, no doubt something critical and bawdy but the large black form soon followed. She clicked her jaw shut as her grey eyes drifted from the figure to the enormous wolf….? Certainly it couldn't be a wolf, near size of a small horse. Dire wolf? Certainly, though she hadn't heard of any sightings since the threat of the Night King and even those she hardly believed.

She was quickly drawn from her thoughts as another entered the chamber and took a seat between them. He spoke and she recoiled at the noise, a wrinkle in her nose as she turned to regard him, only assuming he'd called himself a sellsword. "I'd take caution in using terms like 'freak'." Two more entered the chambers, both men sitting down around the table in silence. "You're outnumbered," she nodded to the wolf at the horned boys side. "I'd count that wolf for at least four of you-" She paused as another arrived, another woman who appeared to be covered in scales and yet another wolf at her side as well. "Wolves, then." She nodded. "Yes, I think that just about does it."

Lex slowly regarded those seated around the table, finally leaning forward and planting her hands on the table top. She stood slowly. "I'd like to start by thanking you all for joining me here this evening," She stepped away from her chair, making her way to a curio table that held crystal decanters. "I know it's been a long and arduous journey for many of you, but you can all go home now: whatsoever the King requires the Iron Fleet can provide." She lifted the ornate lid from one of the decanters and brought the opening to her nose for a tentative sniff. She immediately regretted the motion, the scent of mulled wine nearly making her gag. She set it back down on the table swiftly, rattling the other glass bottles and glasses.

"Sit down, Greyjoy." The voice of the Hand carried through the open archways into the room. She turned to glance over her shoulder. The man hadn't moved from his position, she raised a brow but he spoke again. "There are others coming. Sit and be silent."

Lexia turned back to curio table and selected another decanter swiftly, without bothering to test it she hefted it and a glass into her hands before striding back to her seat, dropping into it again. She poured herself a glass of … whatever she had found and leaned back in her chair taking a sip. She finally turned to regard to two men who had arrived, one of which was massive in size. "A bit of giant in yeah, eh?" She didn't expect a reply but smirked. "Is all of you giant?"

sitanomoto Midrick Crono Safton General_warNpeace

 

[sitanomoto]

Arthur looked up at the sound of another person entering the room. A sellsword made his way to his own seat and then began to speak. The young Lord heard him say the word "freak" and felt a stab to his soul, wincing a little. Nox started to growl softly, but Thankfully the Ironborn spoke up, silencing the large black wolf. Arthur put his hand on Nox's head and shushed her. "Believe me, if this was a joke, the delivery would have been much better executed," he said with a casual tone.
The Ironborn spoke up again, counting Nox for at least four men. Arthur added his voice to hers, but quietly. "Five, on a good day." He smiled a little bit as he continued to draw, well aware of the stares he was getting from the new entries, until another woman showed up with a smaller dire wolf. He looked up and smiled at her quietly, taking note of the scales but giving them no more due attention than he would if it was regular skin.
Arthur watched as the Ironborn stood and spoke, then was rebuked by the Hand. This must be the Greyjoy representative.

"Others are coming?" He replied quietly. "Wonderful." More bigotry. He kept his ruder thoughts to himself, usually, and he wanted to make a good impression on these people past "young highborn freak with silver stag antlers." Hopefully he could, but that wasn't always the case with people. He turned to the Lady Greyjoy. "Your offer is appreciated, and duly noted." He said with a polite and cheerful smile.

After another moment or so of adding ink to his drawing, he set his quill down triumphantly, staring at the page in front of him. It looked great for a short sketch, the detail of the halls matching roughly with what was on his paper. He had even managed to get the figure of the woman with the webbed hands. He would probably include the others later, but for the moment he was happy with the drawing. He turned to Nox, who was watching the rest of the table as casually as a wolf the size of a small horse could watch someone. "What do you think, Nox? A good start?"
The dire wolf looked at the page in Arthur's notebook, then huffed in approval, giving his hand a light lick before continuing to stare at the rest of the company with a nigh-on regal countenance.
NanLia Midrick Crono Safton General_warNpeace

 

[Crono]

Andren was wondering how long they'd be waiting for the Hand of the King to address them when another two strangers joined the group, as well as yet another large wolf. Dire Wolves no doubt, and the man couldn't help but wonder why exactly they'd been brought to said meeting. He'd eyed the newer white beast a moment before looking away, they certainly weren't making him relaxed. Especially with the lack of his bow at the moment. Andren briefly side eyed the man that sat down, he was large to say the least.

When the one with webbed hands stood and started talking Andren stared at her dubiously. The woman was clearly full of herself and her fleet, even if she knew what they'd been called here for which she clearly didn't. The youngest in the room with antlers took it far to merrily. Andren snickered lightly as the hand of the king set her straight from the balcony area, "If that were true then the rest of us wouldn't be here now would we?" Though when she'd remarked on the big one and his potential size elsewhere Andren couldn't help but glance curiously over at the other man to both see his reaction as well as being curious on how he would answer.​

NanLia Safton sitanomoto Midrick General_warNpeace

 

[Safton]

Haedrin glanced down the table to see another woman entering in leather armor -- no less strange in appearance than the first -- with scales covering her skin and brilliant white hair, despite her obviously young age. And, naturally, she had a direwolf at her side. The knight was thoroughly confused by his company; Haedrin was used to being the one stared at, not the one doing the staring. As much as he imagined it would be a welcome change, he couldn't say that it was in practice.

In any case, the woman sitting across from him took it upon herself to stand up and head the meeting herself. Haedrin leaned back in his chair, giving her a vaguely-amused glance, his arms crossing in front of his broad chest. As she spoke he frowned, putting the pieces together. She mentioned the Iron Fleet, which meant...

"Sit down, Greyjoy. There are others coming. Sit and be silent."

The Hand's voice cut her off in a tone that would brook no defiance. More importantly, it served to confirm Haedrin's suspicions about the woman's identity. Just in time it seemed, as her attention fell on him next. He resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably under her stare, the bawdy remark spoken without the slightest hint of hesitation on her remark. "Feel free to do your own research on the matter, Lady Greyjoy," he remarked curtly, putting emphasis on the feminine appellation. He had heard rumors about the Greyjoys' eldest, Lady Lexia. She'd been forced to recuse her right as ruler of the Iron Islands due to some ailment or deformity... now he knew what that was, his eyes flicking down to her webbed hands before returning to meet her gaze.

NanLia Crono sitanomoto Midrick General_warNpeace

 

[General_warNpeace]

Relina
Relina leaned forward in her seat, arm's crossed on the table in front of her as she watched the other woman stand up and begin to try to lead the meeting in amusement. Very arrogantly stating that they were not needed for her fleet could provide the king with whatever he desired. Kneeler's on sea or land are all the same it seem's. Always thinking they are the most important person in the room just because they have a wee bit of power. She snorted when the girl, a Greyjoy, was shot down by the man standing on the balcony. Someone Relina could only think was the hand himself by his well fitting clothes and straight posture. Like he had a stick up his bum. The name Greyjoy bought visions of ships but little else, the family featuring little in the stories told by her people.

The girl was quick to recover though, Relina would give her that. Turning her attentions to one of the men, one which clearly had giants blood in him, and making a comment about his possible girth in a way she didn't imagine a northern lady would. Smirking, Relina eyed the man in curiosity remembering the stories of giants and man and the children born between them. Wonder if I can convince him to come north with me when we are done, he would be popular among the woman of the clan and a little giants blood would give us an edge in future disputes.

Storing the thought away Relina turned her focus on the others in the room. Realizing they were likely to wait a while , she decided she would try to make the meeting go by faster, maybe gain some answers along the way, and raising her hand she pointed to each one of her 'comrades.' "So far we have a stag, a fish, a giant, a snake, a mercenary, and a man. " She gestured to herself at the word 'snake' looking in the direction of the hand as she leaned back into her seat. "What are we waiting for? A lion, a bear, or hell maybe a bird or elephant? Makes me wonder what tis you wanted us here for."
Everyone

 

[NanLia]

Lexia winked at the antlered noble as he offered this thanks to her; not exactly the reaction she had expected but it was an appreciated surprise. However moments later the second noble sitting around the table voiced the reaction she had expected. She raised an eyebrow at the Lord, by his clothing and accent she pegged him for a Reachmen or possibly from the Riverlands but couldn't be exactingly sure, as she had little experience with either. "When have you ever known a King or Lord, for that matter, not over indulge themselves? I wouldn't be surprised if this whole meeting was simply to see if any of our liege lords would listen and respond." Her grey eyes shifted across the table as the giant deemed her question important enough to reply to. She was not disappointed by the answer until she was referred to by a title she did not use. She sneered slightly, the Wilding soon following up with a comment about being a fish.

"Sadly, Valemen, I don't tend to climb mountains much - too much work. I'm more of a valley seeker but if the mood suits me I'll remember your offer." She regarded the Wildling coolly. "Call me a fish again and you'll quickly learn the difference between a Tully and a Greyjoy."
General_warNpeace Safton Crono Midrick sitanomoto D3lmoniko Archon Kameron Esters-

 

[sitanomoto]

Arthur winced at all of the hostility being so casually flung about the room. He put his hand on Nox's head and rested it there, running his fingers through her fur. He remained silent for the time being, thankful he had his companion with him and that he was well-versed in political affairs.
His eyes wandered the room again as he shrank back a little in his seat when the girl with the scales spoke up. Stag. Was that all he was? He was the Velaryon heir, who just so happened to have been born with these damn antlers.
He cleared his throat. "Actually, I prefer to be called Arthur." He said quietly. "'Stag' would be the animal."
He made no threats, but his hand tensed in Nox's fur.
General_warNpeace Safton Crono NanLia Archon Kameron Esters- D3lmoniko Midrick

 

[Safton]

Haedrin couldn't help but roll his eyes at Lexia's answer. The double meaning of her words might have been lost on him back when he was a young squire, but his years on the road and in Essos had left him more than "worldly" enough to understand the less-than-subtle subtext. In any case, only an Iron Islander or Dornish person would so casually remark on their attraction to both genders. The knowledge did not disturb him in the least; many zealots in the Vale would call for the exile (or worse) of anyone who made such preferences known... Haedrin, however, was not one of them and with good reason. It was only the mocking tone in the Greyjoy's voice that had him bristling.

Luckily, the younger woman with a wolf spoke up to break the tension. The knight counted himself lucky that he simply received the title of "giant". It was kinder than the names she'd bestowed upon their other companions and -- if he was being honest -- kinder than things he himself had been called in the past. Evidently the antlered young man with a direwolf of his own disagreed, speaking up in turn to correct her with his true name. Haedrin nodded to Arthur, keeping his eyeline respectfully low of the silver protrusions atop his head.

Haedrin turned his attention back to the table, reaching out with one immense arm to grasp the nearest jug of mulled wine and pouring himself a modest cup. As he did so, he spoke up quietly to no one in particular. "When last I checked, guests baring steel and shedding blood inside the Red Keep is a capital offense subject to the King's Justice." He sipped the alcohol, lip curling slightly at the taste as he set the drink down. "Perhaps it's best we wait until after we learn why we've been called here before deciding whether it's worth killing one another over."

NanLia Crono sitanomoto Midrick General_warNpeace

 

[General_warNpeace]

Relina smirked amused with the various responses to her words. In her mind they were not mean words meant to offend but a simple observation of her comrades and her own oddities. Yet, many indeed seemed offended. Kneeler's sure are sensitive little beings aren't they? She decided to follow the other's lead and poured herself some mulled wine from the closest jug inwardly recoiling at the taste. Such strange taste.

Shaking her head she sat her mug down and turned to address the room at large to try and sooth the ruffled feathers. No need to be on bad footing eith em so soon. "No offense was meant on my part. I admit to not knowing much about ya houses and know even less about you lot." Turning to the Greyjoy girl she addressed her next finally remembering a fact about her house." I had forgotten, ye clan likens themselves to Kraken's not fishes, tis right? If ye'r entire house has that temper I understand why. "

Turning to Arthur she addressed him next. She was able to see he to took her words to be unkind. "Arthur was it? That rack of yer's is magnificent. If one of my people had antler's like those we would say they were kissed by nature and ya would be quite popular among the lassies. They would call ye Arthur Stagborn. Ya should take pride in them and the animal that has em. "

She spoke truly. She believed that her people that allied with giants and Wargs would likely see little wrong with Arthur after they finish comparing him with the men of the frozen shore. They had respect for the animals that survived north of thee wall and Arthur would likely be popular with the hunters of her clan. Believing he would bring em luck. Though, she thought amused, he would likely need to get used to all the jokes that are likely to be made. Leaning back in her chair she took another swing of the mulled wine ignoring the flavor and decided she had said enough. She had put in more effort to sooth the riled feeling of this lot then she would with her own people. Though, if any of her people was offended so easily she could bet they wouldn't last long among her clan.
Safton sitanomoto NanLia Crono Archon Midrick

 

[Crono]

"Nothing wrong with climbing a mountain every now and again." He'd chimed in merrily to the banter. Though when the latest addition to the room named them off Andren couldn't decide if he should take offense to having the simplest name or not, "I'll take that as a compliment." He opted with a light nod towards the woman. Andren sighed heavily, "Let's avoid being reckless and killing each other if possible. The last thing any of us needs is houses going to war and pulling the rest of the kingdoms into it over a quarrel. That's the last thing I need from one of you lot." Not to mention the only current weaponry Andren had on him was a dagger seeing as he'd left his bow at the keep, not that he felt he'd made any enemy at the table thus far. No doubt any bad outcomes from said meeting and after would be met with displeasure when he went home. With that thought in mind he'd straightened up a little in his seat, fully intent on a good outcome from whatever was asked of them. No matter what sorts of people he was forced to deal with.
Midrick Safton sitanomoto NanLia General_warNpeace ​

 

[NanLia]

Gerrad sighed audibly. Annoyed with the delays and now the delinquent lords representatives he decided it had been enough with waiting. The sun had set beyond the western walls and the time had come to set those that had arrived on their way. He turned and strode into the meeting room, regarding their meager lot slowly before standing at the head of the table. “You all are what your Lords have deemed the strongest and brightest to serve the King’s need.” He spoke clearly, over anyone speaking to one another and calling attention to himself. “Of course, being the Hand of the King, I wouldn’t leave all decisions up to the King himself and so I’ve hired a mercenary to help with your endeavours.”

He reached alongside the table to a stand, removing a map and spreading it across the table. Using weights he pinned the four corners revealing a map of Westeros and Essos. He regarded it for a moment before continuing. “The Master of Whispers has come across a series of rumours from the East that are more than a little troublesome. There have been tales of a man offering to sell a clutch of dragon eggs.” He paused, for dramatic effect as he looked over the faces seated around the table. “Now if any of you have been taught a silver stag worth of knowledge you’d know how poorly the last time a rumon of dragon eggs was for the kingdom.”

By the lack of reaction and stoney faces, he huffed and continued. “The short of it was, many many people died a painful death because someone foolish didn’t believe in dragons.”

“You’ll leave tonight by the narrow sea and cross to Pentos. There you’ll meet with the Master of Whispers contacts. Pack your things and head to the dock, we’ll have a ship waiting for you read to set-” He paused, regarding the Greyjoy seated at the table. “You’ll take the Greyjoy’s ship. I assume she’s ready to depart?”

He watched as Lexia nodded and corrected him. “He, Yorith.”

Gerrad ignored the statement and continued. “Good, Greyjoy will take you across the Narrow Sea. Meet with our contacts and find out where this rumour is coming from. Find the truth behind it, if there is any, and return it here.”


Safton General_warNpeace Midrick sitanomoto Crono Archon D3lmoniko Kameron Esters-

 

[NanLia]

Lexia frowned at the Hand as he spoke if rumours and dragons, neither of which she believed in much. She had been hesitant to depart for anywhere without her ship but whatever relief she may have felt was a pittance compared to the dread she felt in the pit of her stomach. Towns and people were not her preference, she loved the sea and the waters. At the very least she had been to Pentos often as a merchant trader and those at the docks would know her and her ship, Yorith.

She glanced around the table at her would be companions - and wolves. She was quite certain none of them had much practice on the open seas. "This won't be a luxury vacation," she muttered, regarding the nobles in particular. "The Yorith and his crew aren't there for servicing you. They're there-"

"Your crew are not to attend this mission, Greyjoy." The Hand interrupted. "I am aware you can sail your ship single handed and you'll do so tonight under the King's command."

Lexia narrowed her grey eyes at the man at the head of the table. The crew would be none too pleased but she wouldn't argue - no need for them to lose wages coddling around the nobles of Westeros. "Yes sir." She sneered, returning her attention back to the others. "If you have cargo to load by way of crane I suggest you head to the docks quickly - the Dock Master will need to arrange some assistants to get your gear or horses loaded."

Safton General_warNpeace Midrick sitanomoto Crono Archon D3lmoniko Kameron Esters-

 

[sitanomoto]

Arthur smiled at the silver-scaled woman, taking a small glass of his own and selecting the decanter with Mead. He poured himself a small amount as he spoke up next. "Well, I'm happy to hear that, miss." Kissed by nature, she said. It was nice to hear that in some places, he wouldn't be considered a freak, and that his antlers would be an object of attraction for some people. Although, the very thought of young ladies being attracted to Arthur at all made him blush lightly. He was never very good at courting, not that he had had a chance outside of flirtation with some of the younger women who were simply hoping for an easy night back home. He always managed to trip over his own tongue while attempting to turn them down. His response usually came out a jumble of words in a nonsensical order, which was off-putting at the very least.

The hand spoke, finally, detailing why they were all here. At the words "Dragon eggs," Arthur's face lit up like a sunrise on a clear day. "Dragons...." he whispered, a wide smile lighting up his face. "By the gods...."
Greyjoy made a remark about this not being a luxury vacation, and Arthur smiled. He had arrived here by ship. His father was called "Master of Tides." He was perfectly fine on the open ocean, and perfectly fine with helping out where he was needed, but more importantly....

Dragons! Ye gods, was this exciting. He had studied dragons for most of his scholarly life. Now there was the chance to actually see dragon eggs! He was glad he came to King's Landing, this was an opportunity he could not pass up.
NanLia Safton General_warNpeace Midrick Crono Archon Kameron Esters- D3lmoniko

 

[Archon]

"It's a bad joke," Lancel scoffed in jest, shaking his head at the proposal. "I'd say it's a good joke, you get to visit the Capital, be a dignitary for the King's quest!" Errend replied with a twinkling smirk, the dagger dancing between his fingers as Lancel thrust forward, steel clashing on steel, a violent push followed as his forearm grappled the other man's arm into a technical lock - a maneuver he soon regret as a flying fist sent him spiraling back. "Easy for you to say, my Lord Lannister." Lancel huffed with a mock bow, spitting blood to the disheveled ground. "You get to sit pretty in Casterly Rock as your father lines up all the realms best maidens." The words rung true, the fourth son of the Lannisport Lannister line was still nobility, but he and Crown Prince of Casterly Rock Errend Lannister lived very different lives. "Jealous?" Errand responded, his face contorted with determination, dagger striking in a blaze of silver; Lancel's eyes anticipated the strike, deftly swinging his right foot away in a quick pivot, catching the Lion off-guard as he delivered a vicious leg-sweep that robbed the heir of his breath.

Lancel smirked triumphantly as he lay out his hand to help the other man up, "You have no idea," Lancel chuckled as they clasped hands, "I'd flay you alive to marry that Tyrell girl, what was her name again? Elise? No, Elina?" Errand patted the dirt from his leather gambesn, shaking his head at Lancel's comments. "Arlene," He corrected, "If you want her so bad I'll set you up next time father organizes a Ball." Errand stared mockingly at his friend and staunch ally, but his jest was only met with a vaguely sad - if distant - stare. "If only I was born a real Lannister." The words left his mouth in a symphony of laughter, Errand shook his head at the comment; the standing Lancel had with the main family and his own was no secret, they all despised him. Rampant rumours of his birth out-of-wedlock couldn't be investigated after his mother vanished just days after his birth, most people took it as evidence of her infidelity. Officially, he carried the Lannister name, but he was treated like a bastard by most Lords in the Westerlands. It was one thing to live under such allegations, but Lancel's father was a viper, "Am I that boring?" Errand quizzed sarcastically, Lancel eyes cast down in thought, he looked up and found Errand staring at him with a studious gaze.

"Listen..." Errand began, sensing the apprehension Lancel displayed. "Don't think about your parents, don't think about your brothers, don't think about my father. They're all misguided, arrogant, a pack of fools playing at fame to make up for how boring they really are." Lancel grinned, "Careful, I don't think your fa - " "No I mean it, forget about him. Forget about all of them, they'll never accept you for who you are, they'll never respect your abilities, you'll never be Knighted in the Westerlands. They want you gone, offered as tribute to the King's quests - shipped away with the rest of the Kingdom's undesirables - don't you see? If you stay, nothing will change. But if you go, you'll have a chance - one chance - to show them all your worth, to prove them wrong. If you won't do it for yourself then do it for me, or for spite, whichever lights that fire in your belly best."

Lancel wasn't an emotional man, but he perhaps impulsively pulled his older cousin into a tight hug. "Or do it for Arlene, I hear she has a thing for Knights." Errand joked, which melted the situation away like a blaze of wildfire, "You'd be much better company without the tongue, you know that?" Lancel poked in retort, a newfound glint to his eyes as the midday wind bristled through his golden locks. "It'll be a good trip, if nothing else... I should go prepare." Lancel turned to leave, his determined pace carrying him a few steps before Errand's voice called out to him. "Lancel," he turned to look at Errand, a solemn look on his face. "My father won't be Lord Paramount forever."
________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lancel and Errand had been riding for days; the journey fthrough the Riverlands earning them much attention, a generous way of seeing the local ladies couldn't help but throw themselves at Casterly Rock's next Lord, Lancel had the same Lannister charm, but his name wasn't the important one. Now they'd arrived in King's Landing, royally late, after spending the night drowning themselves in ale at the Crossroads Inn not two days prior. "You don't mean to send me in there alone, do you?" Lancel blinked, a pleading look affixed on his friend and ally. Errand scoffed in amusement, "No little cousin, I'll protect you from the big bad lion. I'm sure my father will be thrilled to see us late, my fault, naturally." He flashed a charming smirk, the duo dismounted their horses before handing them off to the stablemaster. The walk through the Red Keep was anything but calm, Errand walked with the authority of a King whilst Lancel was having trouble breathing due to the anxiety, many of the Goldcloaks offered a formal bow to the duo; Errand and even Lancel's reputations being highly respected among the local garrison.

The moment of reckoning came when the duo were charged to climb the Tower of the Hand, the stairs were fierce opponents, but the Hand himself was truly frightening. His booming voice carried down the hall even now, references to 'spymaster' and 'narrow sea' were barely audible. Errand took point, entering the room with a smugness only a Lannister could possess."Ah! What a shining collection of heroes!" Errand stated in half-feigned awe, his eyes scrutinizing the animals in the room before staring awkwardly at the antlers portruding from the teenage boy. Lancel, though behind the prized prince, couldn't help his eyes but do the same. "Lancel will be joining the expedition, as you requested. We'd have come sooner but... a bit of trouble on the road, you know how it is. bandits and brigands... we managed." Errand cocked his head to the side, a sly grin fixed at his father.

Lancel took a moment to scan the room, he couldn't say he recognized anyone aside from the woman, the Lady Greyjoy, the circumstances surrounding her disinheritance were no secret, and he'd had the experience to meet much of the Greyjoy family in various trade visits to Lannisport, another man appeared to be a sellsword, he looked gruff and battle-ready, as a principal Lancel respected the standard mercenary more than most Knights - at least they were honest. Another man, unbeknownst to Lancel, towered above him though this did little to assuage his knowledge of character. His examinations ended there, he didn't deign to try to place the girl who looked like she'd wrapped herself in various animals, perhaps another mercenary?​

 

[General_warNpeace]

(I changed her face claim btw, thought this screamed wildling)​

Relina
Leaning forward, arms crossed on the table before her, Relina looked in the direction of the Hand as he spoke. That one holds himself highly he does. And I don't think he be liking us to much. She thought studying the mans face and body language. She was only half focused on his words, at least until he got to the part about dragon eggs.

Eyes widening, her mind was instantly filled with images of a large black scaled beasties burning down towns and whole cities with a white haired woman on their back. Images that always came to mind when she was reminded of The Great Burning and the mad family that were her ancestors. She had been grateful to be born north of the wall, were most didn't care and where there was no throne to create madness in her mind. A throne is one thing but dragons eggs...by the gods. I should not be part of this. My blood shall never go near or get involved with dragons ever again. It never ends well for the people.

Her only solace was the fact that she didn't know how to hatch the eggs. Especially, since she knew she would continue onward with this mission. She had to, had already agreed to attend on behalf of her people And House Stark. Her honor would not let her turn back. Hopefully, my honor will not kill us all. She thought warily fist clenching. Sighing she unclenched her fist and turned back to the conversation at hand. Her whole mental ordeal had taken only a few seconds, she tuned back in to hear about the Greyjoy sailing the ship alone. She had missed the hand saying they were going to sea. Oh great, this is going to be fun, She thought drylie knowing her only experience on a boat was the little dingies her people used. Now to figure out how to convince Castier and Ryner to let me go without them. I doubt the hand will let them come with. The two were mighty overprotective when they desired.

She was brought out of her rampant thoughts when two men arrived, late arrivals it seemed. Ignoring them temporarily she turned back to the hand and room at large. She was ready to get away from this bunch for a while and back to the company of her cousin and friend. I need a strong drink. " If that be all, I'm takin my leave and will meet ya lot at the docks. When we settin sail?"
Safton NanLia Midrick sitanomoto Crono Archon D3lmoniko Kameron Esters-

 

[Safton]

Haedrin wasn't sure whether his advice had been taken to heart by the others present, nor did he particularly care. In any case, the undertones of violence among those present had diminished. In any case, the issue quickly became moot as the Hand spoke up -- clearly done waiting for the others to arrive. And like that, the reason for the meeting became all too clear. The mention of dragon eggs had the hair on the back of Haedrin's neck standing upright as he listened intently to Gerrad's briefing.

Dragons. Could it really be...

Haedrin wasn't sure he could believe it. Ever since he was in his swaddling clothes, he'd been hearing tales about the might of Drogon and Rhaegal on the battlefield from his grandfather, who had seen the dragons firsthand. And he wasn't alone in that: many children were in the same position, having dreams (or nightmares) about the time when dragons returned to Westeros... and cities burned. If it was true, then the seriousness with which the King was treating the matter was no surprise.

Regardless, the decision was made and it was too late to turn back now. For better or worse, Haedrin would soon be bound for Essos alongside these strangers. The Greyjoy wasted no time in lecturing those present on the discomforts associated with sea travel. Haedrin was no man of the sea, this was true. But he had made the voyage across the Narrow Sea twice already in his lifetime, along with smaller maritime excursions in between. He expected his companions on this journey, however, would prove to make this trip memorable (though entirely for the wrong reasons in all likelihood). The gears in Haedrin's head were already turning as he considered what supplies he could and should bring with him to the docks and what he might need to purchase from the markets beforehand. From what sound of things, he had precious little time to waste.

The knight was pulled from his thoughts as the door opened briskly to admit two newcomers. They looked to be near his own age. Both looked vaguely familiar, especially the older of the two that wasted no time in addressing the Hand. His familiar tone with a man who commanded such respect soon jogged his memory: Errend Lannister, Crown Prince of the Westerlands. Haedrin had competed against him in a tourney several years ago. The confident young nobleman was a force to be reckoned with behind a sword or in the saddle. He gave the Prince and his companion -- another Lannister, but Haedrin couldn't be sure which -- a slight nod of respect before turning his attention back to the Hand.


NanLia Crono sitanomoto Midrick General_warNpeace Archon

 

[Crono]

A group of the best brought together to go out and investigate the rumors of Dragon eggs. Well if Andren was going to be honest, even with any and all theories he'd had, none had come close to that. The man listened intently despite both his surprise and reluctance to believe this rumor had any merit. But the hand of the king considered it a real possibility therefore he resigned to at least consider that himself. Though something was off about having the sellsword being hired to tag along, and not by the King but the Hand himself. Andren had glanced in the mans direction briefly when it was brought up before turning back towards the Hand of the King. If this man had been hired there was no way to know if he'd been ordered to do something else beyond what the others were told. If this rumor about the eggs were true who's to say the sellsword hadn't been hired to steal them, or kill this group in the process, or any other number of directions. Andren decided in that moment he'd keep an eye on the Mercenary if nothing else.

Andren was having a small internal gripe about the thought of travelling so much. But on the other hand with the orders stating that it just be them it meant his fathers men would be dismissed and he wouldn't feel them watching him constantly. It was a relief to say the least, and now he was at least a little more interested in this quest. His thoughts were shook from him the moment the doors burst open and two more men strode in. Likely Lannister's due to the blonde locks on their heads, and considering the familiarity with the one's words to the Hand he had little doubt they were close family. Probably the only reason a plus one was even allowed entry into this room where a hush hush topic was being discussed. Ignoring the smug entrance he'd looked back to the elder Lannister, "Exactly how many more are we expecting to be tasked with this?" Andren wasn't sure if others were expected or if this Lannister would be the last. He was already moving to stand and push the seat back where it rested against the table. Given Lexia's urgency for them to be ready he knew he'd have to see to getting Rowan his steed aboard.
NanLia Archon Safton Midrick sitanomoto General_warNpeace ​

 

[NanLia]

Gerrad was hardly surprised by the reaction of those around the table, some of fear others of excitement. He had expected Greyjoy to combat him about his command to leave the crew, the truth of it was they needed fewer people travelling from Kings Landing rather than more. Thus far the Master of Whispers had been able to suppress the rumours and counter with his own - rumours he refused to reveal for the 'sake of the King and Kingdom'. "You are not to reveal this to any other - lie to your loved ones if need be, at the King's order."

His frown deepened as the door burst open to admit his late nephew and son. He glowered at the excuse given for their tardiness. "It seems perhaps my own blood will need some lessons in time keeping." He growled. "As it stands, the others summoned to this meeting managed to travel here from far greater distances and still managed to arrive in a timely fashion. Do not mistake the fact that we are blood for immunity from repercussions. My devotion and loyalty lies with the King."

He turned to face Andrens question for numbers. "There had been two more expected however we do not have time to wait for them to arrive. Our contact is flighty - they will not wait for a late meeting and will end up in the wind at the suspicion being found out."

"Mercenary," He spoke, regarding the sellsword seated within the room. "Remain behind - I have further instructions for you once the others have left."




Lexia regarded Errand and Lancel coolly as the pair flounted in the entryway. Of course the pair of kittens would arrive as it pleased them however as Gerrad scolded the pair (mildly compared to how her own father would have) a slightly satisfied smile crossed her lips.

She turned her attention back to the wildling. "An hour if those with horses hurry and have them loaded." She stood from her chair, stepping around it and facing the pair of Lannisters. "And, of course, if our dear Lord is well and prepared." She made a half mocking bow to Lancel before turning to stride to the doorway. She needed to notify her crew and handle the girls waiting for her - neither of which were going to be pleased.

Crono sitanomoto Midrick Safton General_warNpeace Archon