Post by The Stranger on Apr 13, 2008 15:48:48 GMT -5
Before Ulfrik had been called to deal with the catamites, it had crossed his mind to see if the Drowned God would accept any of the men. That notion was dispelled however at first glance. They were weak. Weak of body, mind, or both. Weakness born of Storm God. A long line of men stream down to the meager, ill kept pier of Ghaston Grey, each pitiful man to be sent to his God held by man of his crew.
As Ulfrik began his work, holding the first Dornishman under the foamy waves by the back of his neck until he felt the familiar desperate inhale that filled him with the Drowned God's justice, several of the similarly destined men began to struggle weakly. It was of no consequence however, the crew of the Drowned Vengeance held them at bay.
The sun had dipped into the sea by the time his work was finished. As his interests in one practice waned, Ulfrik Thrice-Drowned adopted another. Some men he would simply thrust into the water until the ceased to struggle. Others would be lead to the end of the pier and pushed into the hungry maw of the sea, wrapped in the manacles that had bound them in life, and would bind them in death. Some would just be whipped, jabbed, or sliced with weapons as they were drove into the sea, forced to swim until their frail bodies sank beneath the waves only a few dozen yards away. Only the most daring, and resisting prisoners would be dealt with in a way that made Ulfrik cackle with mirth: their arms and legs hewn off at the elbow and knees before they were thrown to flounder in the waves, brine filling their pain wracked screams.
The last two were a favorite for Yaron Farwynd. The smell of blood on the water brings a pleasure no mortal could ever conceive. His blunt nose tingled as he raced through the water, chasing the scent of prey. He moved faster than anything in the sea, his body cutting through the waves as his teeth would through flesh. Yaron slowed, a wounded thing was thrashing near the surface desperately. Tail-fin churning, the skinchanger's razor-toothed maw opened wide as sea-water poured through his gills. His prey was close. With a mighty splash, the men on the shore gave a cheer as they saw the massive grey and white shark burst from the sea, a screaming Dornishman caught in his mouth.
Ulfrik Greyjoy wheeled on the wet sand towards the men nearby that his cousin Erik had manage to win to their side. “Do you see this, men? Do you see what awaits the unblessed at the sea? Death! Death by beast, death by storm, death by the very waves themselves! Every one of my crew, every Ironborn, has tasted the salt of the Drowned God in his lungs! Every Ironborn has been sent into the waves; not to die, but to be blessed by the Lord God who drowned for us! Feel the strength of the stone, salt, and iron in your veins! Come be blessed by me and spare yourself their fate,” he bellows at them, motioning to the bodies he had sent to his God.
Slowly, the won prisoners began to trickle forward, one by one, then in groups of twos and fours. Before long, the moonlight shores were crowded with Ironborn and Dornish prisoners alike. Wading into the tide, Ulfrik beckoned them forward, one by one, and dipped their heads into the sea. As he did his work, Ulfrik intoned the words learned by every Drowned Man, blessing his new crewmen with salt and sea. And as they rose, coughing and sputtering from the waves with the dawning sun on their faces, the Thrice-Drowned knew that they were his.
That they were the Drowned God's.
==========
Ulfrik Greyjoy increases from Expert to Expert+ Persuasion.
Ulfrik Greyjoy increases from Apprentice to Noteworthy Religion - The Drowned God.
Yaron Farwynd increases from Noteworthy to Expert Skinchanging.
As Ulfrik began his work, holding the first Dornishman under the foamy waves by the back of his neck until he felt the familiar desperate inhale that filled him with the Drowned God's justice, several of the similarly destined men began to struggle weakly. It was of no consequence however, the crew of the Drowned Vengeance held them at bay.
The sun had dipped into the sea by the time his work was finished. As his interests in one practice waned, Ulfrik Thrice-Drowned adopted another. Some men he would simply thrust into the water until the ceased to struggle. Others would be lead to the end of the pier and pushed into the hungry maw of the sea, wrapped in the manacles that had bound them in life, and would bind them in death. Some would just be whipped, jabbed, or sliced with weapons as they were drove into the sea, forced to swim until their frail bodies sank beneath the waves only a few dozen yards away. Only the most daring, and resisting prisoners would be dealt with in a way that made Ulfrik cackle with mirth: their arms and legs hewn off at the elbow and knees before they were thrown to flounder in the waves, brine filling their pain wracked screams.
The last two were a favorite for Yaron Farwynd. The smell of blood on the water brings a pleasure no mortal could ever conceive. His blunt nose tingled as he raced through the water, chasing the scent of prey. He moved faster than anything in the sea, his body cutting through the waves as his teeth would through flesh. Yaron slowed, a wounded thing was thrashing near the surface desperately. Tail-fin churning, the skinchanger's razor-toothed maw opened wide as sea-water poured through his gills. His prey was close. With a mighty splash, the men on the shore gave a cheer as they saw the massive grey and white shark burst from the sea, a screaming Dornishman caught in his mouth.
Ulfrik Greyjoy wheeled on the wet sand towards the men nearby that his cousin Erik had manage to win to their side. “Do you see this, men? Do you see what awaits the unblessed at the sea? Death! Death by beast, death by storm, death by the very waves themselves! Every one of my crew, every Ironborn, has tasted the salt of the Drowned God in his lungs! Every Ironborn has been sent into the waves; not to die, but to be blessed by the Lord God who drowned for us! Feel the strength of the stone, salt, and iron in your veins! Come be blessed by me and spare yourself their fate,” he bellows at them, motioning to the bodies he had sent to his God.
Slowly, the won prisoners began to trickle forward, one by one, then in groups of twos and fours. Before long, the moonlight shores were crowded with Ironborn and Dornish prisoners alike. Wading into the tide, Ulfrik beckoned them forward, one by one, and dipped their heads into the sea. As he did his work, Ulfrik intoned the words learned by every Drowned Man, blessing his new crewmen with salt and sea. And as they rose, coughing and sputtering from the waves with the dawning sun on their faces, the Thrice-Drowned knew that they were his.
That they were the Drowned God's.
==========
Ulfrik Greyjoy increases from Expert to Expert+ Persuasion.
Ulfrik Greyjoy increases from Apprentice to Noteworthy Religion - The Drowned God.
Yaron Farwynd increases from Noteworthy to Expert Skinchanging.