Lordsport

[shacklock]

A small fishing village on the far end of Pyke, overlooked by the castle of House Botley, a small stone keep.

Harras Botley, a Clergyman of the Drowned God begins spreading discontent, at the current course of the Isles’ leadership, amongst his Drowned Men and the locals of Lordsport.
He claims that the Kraken should once more sit the Seastone Chair to lead the Iron-born away from the Storm God's grasp.
It is quiet for the moment, but could possibly cause problems in the near future.

[shacklock]

Lord Botley hears of Harras’s rabble-rousing and summons him into his Keep.

Harras steps into the lord’s solar, a flask of seawater ahand, ready to bless his kinsman.

[melon]

Lord Botley looks up the Drown Priest, "Are you trying to get killed."

[shacklock]

Harras Botley eyes his uncle coldly. “I am merely doing the God’s work. He speaks to me; I feel it in my bones and in the restless crashing of the waves. The course we are on will lead only into the arms of the Storm God. The old ways must be revived”
The Drowned Priest walks up to his kinsman, uncorking the flask.
“Kneel and receive Gods blessing. Unless you are no-longer a godly man, uncle?” The last word is said almost as an after-thought. His tone almost angry.

[melon]

"Of course I follow the Drown God. I'm an Ironborn aren't I."

Lord Botley stands and starts to pace around his solar, "I'm happy your speaking out Nephew but did you have to do it here. Why couldn't you do it on anywhere else on Pyke but close to me."

[shacklock]

“Lordsport is my home and my flock. Would you have me stand under the gates of the keep and speak? What good would come of that? The smallfolk must heed my words first!” Harras waits for his uncle to kneel. Flask a-hand.

[melon]

"I'm not getting wet this is Myrish Lace." Lord Botley has a terrified look on his face. He takes his seat again. "Go to Harlaw and the Wyk's to gain support. But please don't do it here."

[shacklock]

Harras snorts loudly. “It is a disgrace to share the same name as you, uncle. The Greenland ways have weakened you. You bedeck yourself in un-earnt jewelry, worship their blasphemous Seven…”
Harras tucks the flask away. Walking away in disgust, he stops at the door and addresses his kinsman once more. “I shall continue my work here, there is nothing a spineless craven such as yourself can do to sway me”.

[sethgreyjoy]

OOC: Taking over

Lord Botley frowned at his retreating form, before snorting. "You continue your Old World propaganda and I'll have you whipped, boy! This is more my home than yours. I may have some trinkets that weren't payed in iron, but I sure as hell have slashed more folk down than you!" He strode over to Harras, pointing a finger in his face.

"I have kept you well off and snug for most of your life, now suddenly you think you can dash it into my face? You will not spread your doctrines and addled dogmas on my property! Show some respect for your blood or I will tan it out of you!"

[shacklock]

The Priest’s face betrays no hint of fear, only contempt is written there.
“My blood? My blood is salt and sea.”
Harras’s gaze drops to the drift-wood club hanging at his waist, before flicking back to his uncle.
“You would threaten a man of the God?” He sneers, “Although such would not surprise me, little you do could further lower your standing. You are a jape, “uncle”. All know it. So cease to presume that you can instruct me or my followers.”

[sethgreyjoy]

The eyes that were once filled with rage, were now sad.

"Then you are truly lost. No true god would have one forsake his family. Especially an uncle that saved a boy's life once." Botley claimed, his face twisting with emotion. There was little doubt on who the "boy" was.

"So you go tell your Drowned God that he can have you then, but do not try taking any of my own people. Pyke is full of the Drowned. Go someplace else before my men send you off in their own way."

[shacklock]

“The God requires strength and loyalty from his true followers. He spares no time or mercy for meek kowtowers, Uncle.”
With that unsaid threat left hanging in the air, Harras Botley flings the door open and descends to the castle’s gate. There he is met by a modest group of his clergymen all armed with fire-hardened, drift-wood clubs. Together they descend into Lordsport’s streets, preaching their warning.

[Fel]

Theon Godswind arrives in Lordsport, accompanied by three of his crewmen.

He asks around for Harras Botley. Some tell him to leave Harras alone, others tell him to give the loud mouth what's coming to him, finally a few point Theon in the right direction.

[shacklock]

Harras stands waist deep in the sea, some half a mile up shore of Lordsport, drowning new clergymen.

[Fel]

Theon stands on the shore and waits for Harras to conclude the holy acts before speaking with him.