Greywater Watch

[Ollie]

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It was a delicate matter in hauling the Sun Throne onto the floating crannog of Greywater Watch, but after an evening of rough work, the crannogmen managed to bring the thing into the solar of Olander Reed. The thing was carefully covered in a thick woolen blanket and set in the corner of the room.

[Ollie]

The thick white fog was clinging to the peat bog like a lover to her mate, but it bothered Olander little; it was the same marshy earth of his home, and he knew it well. What did disturb him, however, was the throne. It was a high backed, shining seat of pure gold, standing in the middle of the bog with a man atop it.

The man shifted in his seat, a small fidget at first, growing more frequent until he looked down below him. The man found he was not sitting on a throne at all, but rather on the head of a trident, the three long prongs gleaming black, with an intricately carved handle.

Olander shuddered, as a cold bit through the misty bog, and continued to watch the scene before him. The little crannogman had yet to see the man's face, and as he began to look up, Olander Reed's breath caught in his throat. He saw the man's eyes, tepid and still things, with a hungry glint...


Olander Reed sat bolt upright in his low-slung hempen hammock, slender chest rising and falling like a snared beast's as he sucked in breath. He swung his legs to touch the floor and his breath began to steady. Rising, he pulled on a pair of losoe fitting black cotton breeches, and wandered to the corner of the room.

With the soft whisper of rustling cloth, Olander uncovered the Sun Throne of Dorne and gave it an intent, appraising look. The burnished metal of the throne still shone like the midday sun in the candlelight. He tossed the woolen cover to the floor, and continued to study the seat, tugging lightly at the wisps of hair coating his chin thoughtfully.

[The Stranger]

The seat was carved and gilded, with a high back, and thick, solid looking bottom.

[Ollie]

The crannogman runs his fingers over the bottom of the seat, feeling for a crevice or catch. He hesitates, then as if to entertain a notion, knocks.

[The Stranger]

He could find no device for opening or turning it. But it sounded hollowed to the knock.

[Ollie]

Olander sighed heavily as wiped a hand down his face, clearing away the early morning tiredness. After a pause, he stalked from him room in a hurry, leaving the gilded throne of the sun to its own devices.

[Ollie]

The morning mists had begun to clear from the surrounding swampland, brushed away by the fingers of the dawn. A willow lark took up the shrill chip of the morning cry, accompanied by the reverberations of a distant bullfrog's croak. It was then that Olander has returned.

It was a small thing he carried with him; small, but brutal. The blade of the hand axe glinted as the sun crept in through his chamber window. So too caught by the lance of dawn was the Sun Throne of Dorne, causing the seat to shine with all the brilliance of the sun.

Olander Reed gazed at the throne again, for a good and long time. It was a beautiful thing, in truth, it's brilliance only paralleled by the midday sun itself.

He began to hack it apart.

[The Stranger]

Olander hacked and hacked until the bottom of the throne gave way with a sudden "CRACK."

three heavy black rocks fell out of the hollowed out stand of the Throne. Each one was about the twice the size of Olander's fist, and incredibly heavy. The rocks were not rocks, or at least not, completely rocks. They were ore. Some rock, mixed with a heavy black metal, which caught brilliantly in the sun.

[Ollie]

The heavy wooden ruin of the throne stripped of the golden gilding by the crannogmen handservants, Olander Reed dumped the skeleton of the once Sun Throne of Dorne off of his floating crannog home, quickly becoming lost in the shifting, murky swamp.

Olander returned to his chambers, hefting two of the clumps of ore in his hands contemplatively, his green eyes smiling.