Post by The Stranger on Apr 17, 2008 22:08:05 GMT -5
Janos was worried about his Lord. Ever since the attempted assassination on him, he had not left the room, preferring to keep
to himself. On the few times he had entered to bring Beric his food, the man had been in deep thought, not even noticing his
presence. More often than not they would find the food untouched, and his Lord sitting, reading the letter that Janos had
brought back. Whatever it was that Beric was thinking about, it was serious. Life in the house wasn't too bad. Morho was always
smiling, talking about the beatifull women in Braavos. Gaharr, when not concerned about his Lord, would oft tell stories of the
great cities he had seen in his days as a sellsword, the men he had fought. Norizs was an odd one, a man who giggled at the
most obscure things, but he had his wisdom too and he had started teaching Janos how to read. Sometimes he even talked to him
about the history of Westeros and it's relationship with the free cities throughout time.
Then there was Zandros, the man who had apparently saved their lords life. He had just so happened to arrive at the last
minute, killing the man who would have probably murdered Beric. He didn't trust the man, and neither did Beric he thought.
Janos often found Gaharr eyeing the man curiously. The new guard spoke little and spent most of his time standing guard
outside of Lord Beric's door, or sitting quietly in a corner. Whenever it was his turn to go to the market, either Gaharr or
Morho would go with him, and Zandros never seemed to voice any complaint.
Now it was Janos' turn to bring food to his lord again, and upon entering found the man still sitting in his bed, lost in
thought. Janos put the food down on the table and was about to leave again, when he heard Beric speak. "Janos, stay for a bit."
If his voice had been thin before, it was now almost in-audible. Janos turned and looked at the man. He did not look ill, his
wounds had healed well, thanks to the doctor that Zandros had brought. "Of course, my lord." Janos replied and sat. Beric sat
up slightly and looked at the foor. "I shall eat it later. First I need speak with you." For a moment it looked like Beric
would not start talking again, his eyes distant. Then he looked back at Janos and sighed. "It seems like life as an exile
can be overly complicated. You think of doing one thing, but then another path must be taken. And now I do not know what to
do. There are two paths, both which will inevitably lead to death, but one is much shorter." He scratched the thin stuble on
his face and took a sip of the wine that was standing at his bedside table. "Would that I knew which was which." Janos thought
for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. "May... may I ask what the choices are?" For some reason this made Lord Beric
smile. "You may ask, but I cannot answer. Some things a man must keep to himself." He leant back and shut his eyes. "Janos,
I would like you to burn all of my letters." Janos rose and went to the table, shoving the letters into a small sack that was
lying around. "When you are done with that, I would like you to take Shadow for a ride." Janos froze. Shadow was Lord Beric's
trusted horse, a better friend to him than Gaharr Tohn. "He has not been out of the stables in a while and needs someone to
ride him. I think he will like you, Janos." The young man nodded, pulled the string on the sack tight and left the room.
When the burning was done, Janos went to the stables and picked up Shadow. The stallion was a bit suspicious of him at first,
but once he stroked him and gave him a sugar cube the horse seemed to start to like him. As he rode him through the narrow
streets of Braavos Janos started to think. 'If the man we follow is lost, then what are we?' But then it wasn't up to Beric;
It was up to Tristeza Martell. A woman Janos had never bet, yet tales of her beauty had spread far through Dorne. Janos had
asked Beric about her but his Lord hadn't said much. The only thing he didn't mention was that she had given him Dawn, and
every time he spoke of it, a hint of color appeared on his face. Janos had long gotten over his lords scary appearance. When
first he had met him, when Lord Beric took over the command of the troop he was in, he was absolutely frightened of the man.
He looked like a walking corpse, with pale skin and dead eyes, the black armor he was wearing making him look even more
frightening. Word had spread that he had been dubbed The Ghost of Dorne by the enemy forces and Janos could see how that name
had come about.
But now that he knew him, there was nothing scary about the man; at least not about his looks. Up close his skin wasn't that
bad, and when you looked at his eyes, really looked at them, they were the deepest purple ocean that existed. A purple sea,
speckled with small grey islands.
Something jolted Janos and as he looked around he saw that he was surrounded by some tough looking bravos. "You! I challenge
you!" said one of them and the others laughed and nodded. "What?" Janos asked, when he noticed. He had left his shortsword
strapped to his belt, a stupid thing to do in Braavos if all you wanted was a quiet ride. Without waiting for a reply, the
young bravo rushed at him, his blade allready out. Janos didn't need to turn Shadow, the horse reared by itsself, as if
anticipating Janos' move. The youn dornishman quickly pulled his sword and turned the Bravo's blade aside. Another sword
came at him out of nowhere and Janos found it harder to deflect this one. He was not that good with the sword allthough he
had spent enough time practicing it. Turning Shadow around, Janos parried another blow and went to stab the man. His sword
caught the bravo deep in the shoulder and the man screamed. Janos knew he was surrounded so he kicked Shadow into motion,
the horse galloping full speed through the men and back to the stables.
It was only when he returned to the house that Janos noticed he had been cut. One of the bravos' swords had managed to
bore into his left arm; not deep, but when he touched it it hurt. He had Norizs tend to the wound and told his friends of
the advernture he had had. He went to sleep that night with a smile on his face. 'My first battle wound... let's hope the
next one isn't bigger.'
Janos advances to Noteworthy Horseman
Janos advances to Novice with the Shortsword
to himself. On the few times he had entered to bring Beric his food, the man had been in deep thought, not even noticing his
presence. More often than not they would find the food untouched, and his Lord sitting, reading the letter that Janos had
brought back. Whatever it was that Beric was thinking about, it was serious. Life in the house wasn't too bad. Morho was always
smiling, talking about the beatifull women in Braavos. Gaharr, when not concerned about his Lord, would oft tell stories of the
great cities he had seen in his days as a sellsword, the men he had fought. Norizs was an odd one, a man who giggled at the
most obscure things, but he had his wisdom too and he had started teaching Janos how to read. Sometimes he even talked to him
about the history of Westeros and it's relationship with the free cities throughout time.
Then there was Zandros, the man who had apparently saved their lords life. He had just so happened to arrive at the last
minute, killing the man who would have probably murdered Beric. He didn't trust the man, and neither did Beric he thought.
Janos often found Gaharr eyeing the man curiously. The new guard spoke little and spent most of his time standing guard
outside of Lord Beric's door, or sitting quietly in a corner. Whenever it was his turn to go to the market, either Gaharr or
Morho would go with him, and Zandros never seemed to voice any complaint.
Now it was Janos' turn to bring food to his lord again, and upon entering found the man still sitting in his bed, lost in
thought. Janos put the food down on the table and was about to leave again, when he heard Beric speak. "Janos, stay for a bit."
If his voice had been thin before, it was now almost in-audible. Janos turned and looked at the man. He did not look ill, his
wounds had healed well, thanks to the doctor that Zandros had brought. "Of course, my lord." Janos replied and sat. Beric sat
up slightly and looked at the foor. "I shall eat it later. First I need speak with you." For a moment it looked like Beric
would not start talking again, his eyes distant. Then he looked back at Janos and sighed. "It seems like life as an exile
can be overly complicated. You think of doing one thing, but then another path must be taken. And now I do not know what to
do. There are two paths, both which will inevitably lead to death, but one is much shorter." He scratched the thin stuble on
his face and took a sip of the wine that was standing at his bedside table. "Would that I knew which was which." Janos thought
for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. "May... may I ask what the choices are?" For some reason this made Lord Beric
smile. "You may ask, but I cannot answer. Some things a man must keep to himself." He leant back and shut his eyes. "Janos,
I would like you to burn all of my letters." Janos rose and went to the table, shoving the letters into a small sack that was
lying around. "When you are done with that, I would like you to take Shadow for a ride." Janos froze. Shadow was Lord Beric's
trusted horse, a better friend to him than Gaharr Tohn. "He has not been out of the stables in a while and needs someone to
ride him. I think he will like you, Janos." The young man nodded, pulled the string on the sack tight and left the room.
When the burning was done, Janos went to the stables and picked up Shadow. The stallion was a bit suspicious of him at first,
but once he stroked him and gave him a sugar cube the horse seemed to start to like him. As he rode him through the narrow
streets of Braavos Janos started to think. 'If the man we follow is lost, then what are we?' But then it wasn't up to Beric;
It was up to Tristeza Martell. A woman Janos had never bet, yet tales of her beauty had spread far through Dorne. Janos had
asked Beric about her but his Lord hadn't said much. The only thing he didn't mention was that she had given him Dawn, and
every time he spoke of it, a hint of color appeared on his face. Janos had long gotten over his lords scary appearance. When
first he had met him, when Lord Beric took over the command of the troop he was in, he was absolutely frightened of the man.
He looked like a walking corpse, with pale skin and dead eyes, the black armor he was wearing making him look even more
frightening. Word had spread that he had been dubbed The Ghost of Dorne by the enemy forces and Janos could see how that name
had come about.
But now that he knew him, there was nothing scary about the man; at least not about his looks. Up close his skin wasn't that
bad, and when you looked at his eyes, really looked at them, they were the deepest purple ocean that existed. A purple sea,
speckled with small grey islands.
Something jolted Janos and as he looked around he saw that he was surrounded by some tough looking bravos. "You! I challenge
you!" said one of them and the others laughed and nodded. "What?" Janos asked, when he noticed. He had left his shortsword
strapped to his belt, a stupid thing to do in Braavos if all you wanted was a quiet ride. Without waiting for a reply, the
young bravo rushed at him, his blade allready out. Janos didn't need to turn Shadow, the horse reared by itsself, as if
anticipating Janos' move. The youn dornishman quickly pulled his sword and turned the Bravo's blade aside. Another sword
came at him out of nowhere and Janos found it harder to deflect this one. He was not that good with the sword allthough he
had spent enough time practicing it. Turning Shadow around, Janos parried another blow and went to stab the man. His sword
caught the bravo deep in the shoulder and the man screamed. Janos knew he was surrounded so he kicked Shadow into motion,
the horse galloping full speed through the men and back to the stables.
It was only when he returned to the house that Janos noticed he had been cut. One of the bravos' swords had managed to
bore into his left arm; not deep, but when he touched it it hurt. He had Norizs tend to the wound and told his friends of
the advernture he had had. He went to sleep that night with a smile on his face. 'My first battle wound... let's hope the
next one isn't bigger.'
Janos advances to Noteworthy Horseman
Janos advances to Novice with the Shortsword