Post by The Stranger on Jun 22, 2008 20:37:58 GMT -5
Denard stood perfectly still. His eyes locked onto the light blinking out from around the corners of the heavy door. There were also sounds slipping out through that crack that would find their way into Algood’s ear. He ignored the music though, and the laughter and cries.
Denard hated dancing and singing almost as much as he hated jokes. They were ridiculous ideas, and did not seem to mesh with the way the world was. This dark, dirty, dank and empty street reflected the world. Not the joyous inside of tavern that was the fantasy men created for them selves so they could sleep at night. Denard did not need fantasies; he understood and accepted the dark truths of life.
Tonight’s dark truth was a man will die. He will not die for any reason except it will advance the plottings of Cedric Lannister. The man would never know that though. He would die in a pool of his own blood, and his family would weep and plead with the Gods; but none of them would understand why their papa had to die. It was mad enough to make Denard laugh.
Denard knew though. Every day he knew more and more about the dark rotations of the world. One day he might actually be a man who could control his own destiny, but until that day he would hold onto the one man he knew who had that power.
Denard ran his finger along the edge of his blade and watched. He always thought he should feel nervous before one of these assignments. But the truth was all he felt was hungry, and thirsty. He should have eaten before moving out.
The door opened, and the man Denard was waiting for moved from the light of the tavern into the dark of Denard’s night. Denard waited, he was positioned next to the stable where they man had left his horse. If he was too drunk he would walk to a near by inn and stay the night. He usually stayed at The Royal Bedpost, and if he went toward that Inn tonight he would live one more night.
The target did not though; instead he walked toward the stables. Denard’s sharp eyes locked onto the drunken Lord. The Lord stumbled once or twice, but was clearly not that drunk. And in a moment he was at the door to the stables. Denard took one step out of the shadows and cut his throat with ease. Denard slipt back into the shadows thinking of where he would get some food.
The next day Denard sat down before a woman. “Your husband is dead as you requested. Now tell me everything you know about Dondarrion and his friend.” The woman feigned shock, but Denard’s frown set her mouth moving.
Results
Lannister’s Network expands in King’s Landing
Denard hated dancing and singing almost as much as he hated jokes. They were ridiculous ideas, and did not seem to mesh with the way the world was. This dark, dirty, dank and empty street reflected the world. Not the joyous inside of tavern that was the fantasy men created for them selves so they could sleep at night. Denard did not need fantasies; he understood and accepted the dark truths of life.
Tonight’s dark truth was a man will die. He will not die for any reason except it will advance the plottings of Cedric Lannister. The man would never know that though. He would die in a pool of his own blood, and his family would weep and plead with the Gods; but none of them would understand why their papa had to die. It was mad enough to make Denard laugh.
Denard knew though. Every day he knew more and more about the dark rotations of the world. One day he might actually be a man who could control his own destiny, but until that day he would hold onto the one man he knew who had that power.
Denard ran his finger along the edge of his blade and watched. He always thought he should feel nervous before one of these assignments. But the truth was all he felt was hungry, and thirsty. He should have eaten before moving out.
The door opened, and the man Denard was waiting for moved from the light of the tavern into the dark of Denard’s night. Denard waited, he was positioned next to the stable where they man had left his horse. If he was too drunk he would walk to a near by inn and stay the night. He usually stayed at The Royal Bedpost, and if he went toward that Inn tonight he would live one more night.
The target did not though; instead he walked toward the stables. Denard’s sharp eyes locked onto the drunken Lord. The Lord stumbled once or twice, but was clearly not that drunk. And in a moment he was at the door to the stables. Denard took one step out of the shadows and cut his throat with ease. Denard slipt back into the shadows thinking of where he would get some food.
The next day Denard sat down before a woman. “Your husband is dead as you requested. Now tell me everything you know about Dondarrion and his friend.” The woman feigned shock, but Denard’s frown set her mouth moving.
Results
Lannister’s Network expands in King’s Landing