Post by The Stranger on Apr 1, 2008 2:20:26 GMT -5
Horas Blackwood watched quietly as Francis Varner died.
When it was over, he looked up at Torrhen Keath, his bodyguard. “Remove the bodies, and deliver them to Lord Ryger. Retrieve Lord Francis’ will as well. Lord Ryger shall organize the surrender shortly; I shall leave it to your discretion whether you wish to join him or attempt to flee the keep with Marei.”
Torrhen stared at Horas for a moment, then shook his head once. “Of course, m’lord Crow. Enjoy your pyre.” Torrhen dragged the bodies from the room and did not come back.
Horas wandered to his cabinet and began pouring more bottles of the flammable liquid across the room. He poured it across his books and his desk. He walked to his bedchambers and drenched the bed and its surroundings. He felt strangely whimsical. He thought for a while of his youth at the Citadel and in the East, and the few men he had ever called friend with any sincerity. Nehmen, the Grand Maester. Cinnak Xhan of Qarth. Perhaps even Francis Varner, Master of Whisperers. Then he thought of Tristeza. He had married her as another tool, but now… Horas thought there was something genuine there. It would be a pity to leave her, but Horas was resolute in his purpose now.
Horas dropped a single candle to the floor and watched the flames catch and spread. “Valar Morghulis,” he whispered to himself.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Smoke billowed out of the windows in the Regent’s tower, forks of orange flame flickering towards the sky. Confusion reigned for an hour as the fire burned. But once the fires died out what was suspected became certain. Horas Blackwood, the Crow, the Usurper Regent, was dead.
The gates of the Red Keep were thrown open half an hour later. The defenders laid down their arms and marched out to surrender.
Results:
Horas Blackwood dies.
The forces defending the Red Keep surrender.
When it was over, he looked up at Torrhen Keath, his bodyguard. “Remove the bodies, and deliver them to Lord Ryger. Retrieve Lord Francis’ will as well. Lord Ryger shall organize the surrender shortly; I shall leave it to your discretion whether you wish to join him or attempt to flee the keep with Marei.”
Torrhen stared at Horas for a moment, then shook his head once. “Of course, m’lord Crow. Enjoy your pyre.” Torrhen dragged the bodies from the room and did not come back.
Horas wandered to his cabinet and began pouring more bottles of the flammable liquid across the room. He poured it across his books and his desk. He walked to his bedchambers and drenched the bed and its surroundings. He felt strangely whimsical. He thought for a while of his youth at the Citadel and in the East, and the few men he had ever called friend with any sincerity. Nehmen, the Grand Maester. Cinnak Xhan of Qarth. Perhaps even Francis Varner, Master of Whisperers. Then he thought of Tristeza. He had married her as another tool, but now… Horas thought there was something genuine there. It would be a pity to leave her, but Horas was resolute in his purpose now.
Horas dropped a single candle to the floor and watched the flames catch and spread. “Valar Morghulis,” he whispered to himself.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Smoke billowed out of the windows in the Regent’s tower, forks of orange flame flickering towards the sky. Confusion reigned for an hour as the fire burned. But once the fires died out what was suspected became certain. Horas Blackwood, the Crow, the Usurper Regent, was dead.
The gates of the Red Keep were thrown open half an hour later. The defenders laid down their arms and marched out to surrender.
Results:
Horas Blackwood dies.
The forces defending the Red Keep surrender.