dragonhqnpc

[dragonhqnpc]

|The Details:

The drink in the room, possibly unknown to the people in the room, is Shade of the Evening, is a thick, blue liquid consumed by the warlocks of Qarth. It is called "the wine of warlocks", but it is made from the inky blue leaves that grow on the black-barked trees found around the House of the Undying. This means warlocks are involved. Shade of the evening is deep blue and viscous, flowing like honey. It has an unappetizing smell and initial taste, having been compared to ink, spoiled meat, and rotten flesh, but upon swallowing tastes like all things its imbiber has ever tasted, and more. (Canon example: The first sip tasted like ink and spoiled meat, foul, but when she swallowed it seemed to come to life within her. She could feel tendrils spreading through her chest, like fingers of fire coiling around her heart, and on her tongue was a taste like honey and anise and cream, like mother's milk and Drogo's seed, like red meat and hot blood and molten gold. It was all the tastes she had ever known, and none of them … and then the glass was empty. ) Now because they are not in the house of the Undying there will be some magical shenanigans happening to change the room around, everyone will perhaps see a series of things the others can not, but the room itself wont be like the scene with dany where she's going down the hall through the many doors.

| @ellievswann @mourningblood @bloodfcrblood @nadiaestermont tag the others when they post |

"There is something wrong." Viserys spoke in High Valyrian as he stared at thee drinnk before them on the table. Why did he follow that man? Why lead these people? There was danger. It was all around them. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, fear settled into pale purple eyes as he turned to face those with him. Prince. What would a Prince do? He did not know. He could barely think with the splitting headache.

"Very very wrong." He said again, the boy with the strange accent speaking an old tongue as if it were the only language he'd ever known. They would have to drink or they would die here. That much he knew.

"That man. He smelled like a warlock." He expected they all knew High Valyrian. Right?

"You understand me?" He asked before he turned to fill the cups. "Read this to them." He held out the letter for whoever stood closest. "We must drink. It's the only way."

[dragonhqnpc]

a letter sent from the high septon to leyton hightower after the news of his engagement

@leytonhightower

[dragonhqnpc]

| @cassvstark | | summary :: the little king, hother umber, meets with the stark princess. | | setting :: within his newest location hidden within one of the many empty villages dotted throughout the most frozen part of the north. |

"Princess Stark. I want to know what you see." Hother walked into the room, he was battered but he strong lost most of the men from his family. Crazed. His eyes darting from side to side as he took a seat and scooted his chair close to hers. "The Manderly is gone. I bet ya knew, yeah? Yeah? Yeah, you knew." His voice was hard as stone. "Yeah, you knew. I know why you here. I know how. Yeah. Sacrifices. Yeah, I know about sacrifice."

"I was going to take her head, ya know? I was going to send it to her brother and then the heart to the other one. I wanted the mother to see her bones and I am so disappointed." He shook his head.

"But, there is a prize." He smiled at her. It was a horrifying smile, there was no joy in his features. "I have a Stark bride. And I will marry you at the first Heart Tree we come upon. The Old Gods will look upon their new king."

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the pain from the cut on his ear was nothing compared to what he had endured over the week. he tried to hold out but he found his conviction slipping more and more. but no they promised him they would find him and all of this would be behind him. he would be a rich man on an island somewhere with more gold than he could count and young whores to bed. pain now would only be temporary. however, he quickly started thrashing around when garland held up the saw to his leg.

"you're fucking crazy!" he screamed out trying desperately to move his leg from the man. his mind flashing all around him. panic set in, any reasonable thoughts have gone from his mind as only the idea of losing a leg stood before him. "no no!" he screamed trying to move himself away but feeling as though it was impossible. "i told you my name! i told you!" he begged. "i have nothing else to give you. please have mercy!"

"You, who would kill my brother, asking for kindness from me?" It enrages him, that his man has the gall. The blade feels like fire, righteous and filled with purpose, the closest he's felt to the Gods in a long while. This man who would kill a man of the cloth, asking his brother for a room in his home. For food and a warm bath, after he had seriously injured Gwayne. "Be grateful I have left you with your limbs and your cock, for you do not deserve more than that. In fact--" The girl likes to leave her playthings intact, less mess, and loathes having to remove limbs. But Garland is not beholden to that. The blade finds itself lodged into the table next to Tommaso's head, cutting his ear where it pokes away from his head. "Giulio, pick a limb and ensure you hold it still. We wouldn't want to nick something before it's time. It would be a shame to let him bleed out." Garland goes to the table of instruments and looks at the saws, picking them up to examine and to show the man on the table what his words were buying him. His audacity was about to cost him something dear. "If you feel like talking at any point, do let me know." Giulio lumbers over and grips at one of Tommaso's legs below the knee. An easy replacement could be made… or he was saving the top half for later.

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Perhaps now there would be some sense of peace now that this foul woman was gone. Tommaso took in a deep breath, allowing him to untense his muscles despite still being bound to this board. He did not notice the Hightower lord still stayed among him. He assumed the man was too squeamish to stand around. But in a moment the man’s hand was around his jaw.

“Cut out my tongue and you will have no more answers at all. You do not hold all the cards here. I am the one with the information here. Perhaps if you treated me like a man I would give you what you wanted. Give me a room in your home to rest and I will think about telling you more” he said. He tried to keep his face neutral as he spoke of family. Few cared for him, still, he did not wish for them to be on the rack next to him.

“Give me a home. Give me a bath and food and I will tell you what you want.”

dragonhqnpc​:

the man let out a scream as she pushed her finger onto his wound. what terrible things could come from his name? he was no one. raised by no ones in on a street of no ones. he was a poor man. this would lead them no where, he could hope. “fine! fine! i will tell you my name.” he screamed out, ready for the pain to stop for just a moment. “tommaso…tommaso flower.” he panted out, his eyes locking onto the hightower.

“are you happy now my lord? do i have permission to live once again or will you continue this until there is nothing left of me. i have nothing to give you. nothing for ahHightower lord who sits onto of his tower all day and does nothing!” he said, spitting at the man. “you and your whore aunt and power-grubbing uncle have doomed us all to a life like this.”

There was a flicker in the eyes of the Voice of Oldtown. The woman stood back as if sensing the lord's mood shift. "I shall send it up the vine, my lord." She muttered, leaving her blades behind as she slipped into the darkness outside the room. Garland picked one up, still deft enough in his hands to spin it, careful of the blood that slicked it. Someone would know, and there were Frutto everywhere in Oldtown. Especially now. He had to ensure every member of the Most Devout were watched, that every knight bearing the seven pointed star of the unlawful militia had their every move noted. Garland's large hand grasps the assassino's jaw tight, pressure against the points it met with it's upper half, threatening a damage that cannot be so easily sewn back up as his other wounds were. "Your potential for living is determined by what comes out of your mouth, Tommaso. You earn the right to breathe by being good and answering questions," The lord's voice goes low and growls as he squeezes just a bit more. "but I'll cut your tongue out if I find you disrespectful. Not that I care much for Otto and Alicent." He lets go after speaking so nonchalantly about his blood kin, and starts to examine what has already happened to the man already. "Flowers is for noble bastards... even if your mother died, someone knows who you are, someone cared enough to keep you alive and might even be looking for you. I would hate to add to the menagerie of misery down here. You would hate it more, trust me." The implication was enough. He would have someone this boy knew suffer as he has. Worse, maybe. "Who hired you?"

[dragonhqnpc]

the man let out a scream as she pushed her finger onto his wound. what terrible things could come from his name? he was no one. raised by no ones in on a street of no ones. he was a poor man. this would lead them no where, he could hope. "fine! fine! i will tell you my name." he screamed out, ready for the pain to stop for just a moment. "tommaso...tommaso flower." he panted out, his eyes locking onto the hightower.

"are you happy now my lord? do i have permission to live once again or will you continue this until there is nothing left of me. i have nothing to give you. nothing for ahHightower lord who sits onto of his tower all day and does nothing!" he said, spitting at the man. "you and your whore aunt and power-grubbing uncle have doomed us all to a life like this."

"You give it, and I will not play with your nerves for a little while." The redheaded interrogator had a fondness for the arts of medicine, as Garland had come to find out. She'd been a simple runner between himself and the Frutto until he found her snooping in his books. He showed her his notes on medicine and the body from his time at the Citadel, and in doing so made her his scalpel in the dark. Her cuts were clean and precise, as the assassin had come to learn over their time together. "She offers you a kindness. I would take her up on it." Giulio's gruff voice, the sound of a sailor who'd been all over but started in Oldtown, came after. The redhead did not like the wait, pushing her finger at a place that had been stitched back together. "If not your name, your employer's. Who would have the septon killed in the night? Who do you risk your soul for?" Garland remained stoic, watching, a cruelty he could inflict forming in his mind if he did not get what he wanted soon. Something that would benefit him even if he got nothing out of the man on the table.

[dragonhqnpc]

Little Hother Umber is the lord of House Umber, after the death of his much beloved father Big Hother. Charming and ruthless are words to describe Hother Umber, loved and hated among his people and men of the watch he provides a threat unseen. People want to follow him, people are wrapped up in his claims to return to a true north.

He is funded, and some say puppeteered, by the current ruling lord of House Bolton. Hother Umber is a fierce warrior who operates in extremes. Such extremes would be the killing of Prince Jon Snow and abduction of several worthy captives.

[dragonhqnpc]

time moved slower than he could ever imagine. with each cut of the blade, with each instance of pain the world seemed to slow down. it was only when he passed out from exhaustion or pain that time at least seemed to speed up a little. he began to loose track of the days before him. he was promised a way out if he was caught. they would be coming for him soon enough. he just needed to survive another day....and another day...and another. finally the Hightower lord made himself known once again. the only information he had given up in those days was that he was from oldtown, raised since he was a child and knew the tongue that they spoke in. the man groaned as this round had finally ended. "my name is not important...no one would know my name if i gave it to you. why do you want it so badly?"

"Then you will talk to me, assassino." The interrogator, a svelte young woman with flame red hair, spoke in the Oldtown tongue to him before turning to the warden as Garland took a seat on a rickety old chair, leaning toward his good side. Time disappeared as they started their work. She was keen with her blades and the machines she had at her disposal, intense in her work and occasionally the lord would stand and look at how the man's body as layers were pulled away or stitched back together, or how his body was moved by ropes and wheels. Garland stopped asking, instead it was the woman, between each act and during it. His name, his employer, if he was from Oldtown or elsewhere, where he would have gone had he succeeded. Garland would leave at times, return to life as if below his keep wasn't a circle of the Hells known only to those that think they can touch the Hightowers in one way or another. Sometimes the shadow was left alone in that room, or thrown back into the darkness of his cell with nothing on and no food or water. No knowledge of how many days had passed, or if it was just one long eternity. Even the strongest would fade eventually. Garland returned to a session in progress eventually, silent for a moment before looking to the woman. Another round of questions. "What is your name, assassino?"

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pain would be coming for him. he knew that the moment he had been caught. he knew the risk when he took the job. the easy job it was supposed to be. but still, he knew what would happen to him if he was caught. but it was worth the risk for that boat to freedom and all the gold in the world. the man had readied himself for what was to come his way. even now as he was carried down the halls towards his fate, he seemed to disassociate with what was coming. he had been through pain, he could survive this. "there is no name idiota i did it myself. i wanted to kill your brother. i wanted to kill a hightower." he spat at him. "i have no family to burry me anyways. you can try what you like but i am not talking to you or any other prissy lord that comes in here."

"Because when you tell me, the pain will stop. Prendilo, Giulio." The clanking of keys in the door came in the darkness, and the almost-assassin was pulled to his feet and dragged further into the dark black halls. Deep in those cells were men who had survived years on bread and water, without sunlight, men who had disappeared after infuriating the lords of Oldtown. Men Garland's father, even grandfather, had sent to their ends. The smell of unwashed bodies and shit didn't bother the former war hero as he followed the muscle-bound warden and the woman that would be making the Boltons look kind. When they arrived at the room set aside for this work, it was bathed in the light of torches versus the darkness of the cells. The instruments varied between well-known and experimental, but nothing was hidden. The 'shadow' could see exactly what his fate would be. "I don't need the why, idiota. I want the who. Who put the name in your ear and promised you coin or women or men or whatever the fuck. You tell me that, and your family might find your body. This is your only chance for that."

[dragonhqnpc]

the man's eyes glanced at the group that had gathered at his cell. weighing the options in front of him. "and what is it that you plan on doing?" he asked him. "torture seems a little beneath the righteous lord Hightower." the man snickered, knowing this man was anything but righteous. "what's the point if you are going to kill me anyways? why should i tell you anything if either way my life will end by your hand or your men's hand." he asked, resting his head back against the stone. "have you wondered why i might have done it? have you wondered if i had a reason? or maybe i just snuck in to kill as many septons as i could. or maybe just one. it's all mystery."

The Hightower’s cells were deep in it’s foundation, made of the oily slick black stone that was the base of Battle Isle. This part of the keep was here long before the Hightowers, and was where the man had been rotting since Garland’s man at his brother’s side brought him in. No one would know where he was in the labyrinth, Garland could just leave him to waste. But he didn’t deserve such a kind fate. When he arrived with the Frutto’s finest interrogator and his jailor, Garland felt almost like this was the war again. Spies were not suffered. “Oh, I won’t have to ask. You’ll want to sing after we’re done with this visit. You know what I want to know, tell me now or tell me later, but you’ll tell me. But I’ll give you one chance right now to earn a clean death. Next time I speak to you… you’ll be in a much worse state then hungry and cold.”

[dragonhqnpc]

setting: in the dungeons of hightower, after the attack of septon gwayne hightower

the shadow sat in one of the many dark and dingy cells of this lords manner, his hand chained in front of him. however, even without the chains, he knew there was very little chance of escape for him. not here in this castle. all there was to do was wait for whatever was coming to him and hope that his sponsor had a way of getting him out of this. the man's eyes glanced up as he heard boots walking down the stone hall towards him. he did not bother to look up. "I'm not telling you anything. better save your breath, just wasting both of our times."

@garlandhightower

[dragonhqnpc]

lucreziasredwyne​:

illyaoakheart​:

and the sound of twinned footsteps echoing down the halls of the private apartments of the lady of the arbor was uncommon at this time; for it was usually the lord of the arbor that would find himself enjoying his daughter’s company as they read about the rhoynish civilisation of old, and he tested her on her knowledge. a part of her expected her mother was readying to tell her she was with child again, and all that came with it, but she could not imagine why illya would be in the room.

“against who? gilbert hightower…?” if there was any that her mother spoke the mostly harshly of, it was garland’s father; though the term swine was not a word lucrezia heard often, when she did, it seemed to only come in preface to something regarding the man. however, were the hightowers and redwynes not family? if there was to be conflict, surely it would be her father leading the ships - women were not supposed to lead ships. 

and what family would turn on one another in such a way and rip themselves apart? not her own, surely.

and so her nerves remained in her stomach. was she in trouble? had her mother finally realised the way she looked at the second son of goldengrove as though he were the sun? she could barely look at illya as they walked, for she felt as though her stomach were in her mouth. and as they entered the room, and saw the scene before them, she found herself stilling, before momentarily dropping into a small curtsy and going to kiss her mother upon both cheeks as was expected.

“anne.” mother. for her tongue always switched to their tongue of old in the presence of her mother. she rarely spoke to her in common, unlike her father; in fact, since she was a child, her mother would not respond to her lest she spoke in their ancient tongue. “bir sorun mu var?” is there a problem?

mr.

and this was a discussion that was a long time coming. whilst she was firm in her upbringing of her daughter, and the way she looked over the daughters of others, there was free mixing occurring. free mixing that would occur within the courts of highgarden and kings landing in some years, that would be beyond her direct control and influence. if the future women of the old way were to know how to conduct themselves around men, it was better to do it here, under watchful guidance.

“yeter fısıltı, oturup dinleyeceksin." enough whispering. you will sit, and you will listen.

and yet, the girls were growing; as was their mindset, and their bodies. curves replaced what was once flat, and the lady was not blind. it would need to be addressed, before it was allowed to spread. it needed to be something that was feared, something that was seen with discomfort, to ensure such lines were not blurred. men would always be men, with their needs that were red hot; and yet, she need ensure these young women would be ice in the face of that. her own daughter more specifically, considering she was the only living heir to the arbor at this point.

and she looked over at the septas, a common look seemingly being accepted here. it would begin. “söyle bana. saygılı kadınlar erkeklerin yanında nasıl davranmalı?" tell me. how should respectful women behave around men?

[dragonhqnpc]

visxionaries​:

♠

and the king of the reach listened. genuinely listened, to what it was this strange man seemed to say; a man who truly believed himself to be doing good. who wished to help give salvation to all those who needed it. "you come from a place of righteousness, father. of caring for the souls of those both high and low, in remembering this life is only temporary. within all of our struggles, it is that i have realised…that all, is temporary. and whilst you are doing your good work, i wish to speak with you, as a member of your holy flock. speak to you, of what brews on the horizon.“ 

and with that, the king of the reach watched as the high septon raised to his feet. there was no crown upon his head, no clear indication that he were anything more than just another septon aside from the numbers of guards surrounding him. 

“i wish to understand the makings of this court you have found yourself presiding over, within this starry sept.” his tone sounded quiet, and yet, there was something utterly careful about it. as though his words were painted with strokes of a brush that could paint whatever in various hues, that could sculpt and mould matters with his own hands. “is there a process of discussion and meetings which lead up to a decree being established by the faith, or is it solely a decision made by yourself? considering there have been rumours regarding tensions with the most devout, i pray you would be able to forgive my curiosity.” 

and cedric did not hesitate with his words; his questions were forward and bold, because this man was a false king. cedric himself, was king; though they were not equals, it was not on his own account, but on the birth of the man stood before him. 

.

"you are correct. i care for all of those in my flock. i do believe it is our responsibility to protect and guide everyone no matter what title they hold." he was not so foolish to think that this meeting was simply for the new flower king to thank him for the work that he did for his kingdom. work that should have been done already. "please follow me your grace" the high septon lead the king to one of the empty chambers in the sept, somewhere the two of them could speak more privately given the sensitive issues they may discuss "please my child, tell me what you wish to discuss. i am happy to be working with a king of understanding. i believe together we can make a real difference. after all the war this kingdom has seen i believe you and the people here deserve a place of peace."

he doubted the man wanted to simply know how the court worked. he was sure there was more too it. but who was he to judge this man so quickly. perhaps there was a curiosity within the king. and it was his duty to guide all these kings now. "what an interesting question your grace. not many kings are interested in the way the most devout work. i think most just step back to let us do the work, but i do love your enthusiasm to learn more" the high septon's calm demeanor did not leave his face as they spoke. but he was curious why this king wished to know so much about his decisions were made. did he wish to push his own policy through? or just curious how it may work.

"there are some decisions that i make on my own. but i do consult with members of the holy order when i feel like i need some guidance of my own. but i was chosen for this role by the most devout and by the seven themselves, i do believe they all trust i can come to decisions on my own." he said "the most devout are having some troubles. i believe they are all nervous after the murder of the previous high septon. however even the septons must understand that change is coming. i believe it makes some of them nervous. perhaps they are used to the corrupted ways of before."

[dragonhqnpc]

visxionaries​:

♠

and it was time for the king to speak face to face with this individual that had taken a hold of the most powerful of all faiths within not only the reach, but upon the continent. and when he reached the starry sept, days after his royal union to the lady illya oakheart, he found the man to be praying.and cedric waited, for the man to finish. whilst the atmosphere was tense, he knew he needed to keep his cool. knew he needed to ignore the way his first seemed to close, reopen, stretch, and then close again. “holy father.” there was no denying the amount of stress had taken a toll upon his temperament, making his striking blue orbs sparkle just a little less. there was no longer a mischievous glint, but rather, genuine emptiness. “each of us have those we must answer to, so it appears. the time has come where we must discuss the direction in which this kingdom will turn, father.”

.

this king seemed like a man of good faith. he was marrying a woman of the old ways, surely he must take the seven seriously if that was the case. if not at least he hid his ways well enough. but king or not all of them must face the judgement of the seven. it was his new duty as high septon to ensure that this was taken seriously. he wanted the reach to the be the first to model this.  "my child, i couldn't agree more. we all have to answer to the seven at the end and i want to ensure that all of us are ready for that. the direction all of us must turn is away from the corruption that has begun to seep into our lands"

[dragonhqnpc]

septongwaynehightower​:

and when the blade touches his throat, he screams again. “michelangelo…” it is a scream but it is the last scream he can muster as the man is screaming and trying to cut him. when the door opened, he mistakes it for the light of the heavens. the man who comes barreling through the door is in fact no angel but his man servant. his michelangelo.

“don’t! don’t kill him…”

his hand goes to his neck, have they made worms food of him? no…no it is but a scratch. perhaps it will scar. his skin was flawless before this night. “do not kill him…” they would take him to highgarden. “my brother will make you meet your end with less than grace.” there are tears in his eyes as he speaks. they needed to leave this place.

.

he septon screamed again, but this had to be his last scream. he needed to ensure his end would be soon so he could still escape. his blade caught part of his neck and while it bleed it was not enough to kill him. he moved again to strike him when he felt arms pulling him backwards off of his target. "no! NO!" he screamed, struggling against the other's grip. but it was too late, the man had already twisted his arm into a painful position. still the shadow screamed and struggled. his target moved off of his bed and towards him, mocking him with his words. "i am not afraid of you or your brother." he spat at him. "kill me now yourself coward." he screamed as he was started to be pulled away.

[dragonhqnpc]

septongwaynehightower​:

the hit did not knock him out. he heard a cracking of his nose breaking, felt the blinding pain. suddenly this man was on him and speaking to him. meet his end with grace? he had no grace for dying so he opened his mouth and bit down on the shadow’s hand until felt the warmth of blood on his teeth. you’re not fighter gwayne, you will be a septon. well, no one told his father about this part of septonhood. the struggle and fighting continued.

.

so much for a fragile septon. that's the what he had been told. he's young but never seen a real fight in his day. the weaker hightower, easy to remove. easy to kill. he was ready to kill the man who gave him that information. despite his attempts at quieting the man, it was his turn to scream out into the dark night as the bit down hard on his hand. "fucking hells!" he yelled, hitting the man once more with his now bleeding hand. he held his blade tightly, assuming he would need to make a wild attack. he swung the blade down towards the man's throat, feeling it cut against something. he would beat this man to death if he had to, strangle him. whatever it took to get that gold and that boat out of here.

[dragonhqnpc]

septongwaynehightower​:

gwanye should have been in highgarden. the most devout had need for him. in the night, he left with his man servant to travel. they travelled quickly and their talks went long into the night. they needed to move him within their ranks and then carry forward. outside of their world. outside of that room, he is all they have to support them against androw. the streets were too uneasy to travel safely in the evening he picked different quarters. separate from his were once his own. always a light sleeper, his eyes open in time to see the blade. “FUCK!”

“michelangelo!!!” gwayne shouted, shocked from the blood pouring from his wound. “michelangelo!” would the man hear him?

.

the shadow stabbed down at the septon again but the man's screaming would wake the entire sept up. this was supposed to be quiet, in and out and no one would see him. that would not happen if the entire place was running towards his room at any moment. the man's gloved hand clenched in a fist and he struck the septon across the face, hard as he could. fucking hells he hoped it would knock him out. the shadow jumped on the bed, knife in hand ready for the finishing strike but his other hand struggling to cover his mouth to keep the man from yelling "meet your end septon with grace." he grumbled, trying to get him still to attack once more.