Post by The Stranger on Jun 24, 2008 17:26:16 GMT -5
Ser Lyle spun his blade around in circles on his new desk. Damn Cedric, he thought, you were completely right. I am enjoying this just as much as battle. The highs were different but just as lifting. He was his own general now too, and wanted his network to be supreme in the West be the time Ced returned from King’s Landing.
That desire was why he had invited this woman up the Keep. He was studying his dagger so his eyes would not linger on her pleasant curves. Her lips seemed made for kissing, and her green eyes literally startled him every time they made contact. Her long red hair hung to her magnificent bosom. All in all one of the beauties of the west.
Ser Ferren knew he had to look at her again, so he slowly raised his eyes to stair at her pale forehead. Hopefully she would not notice the kind of power she exerted over him. He was almost positive he would have to kill her is she did.
Lyle asked her, “Mistress Angelique I wish to retain your services full time.”
Angelique raised a delicate eyebrow and responded, “I enjoy my life quite as it is now, so I am afraid I must refuse.” She smiled in a warm and hopeful way.
Ser Ferren snorted once, “I am sorry, but I should have made myself clearer. I am consolidating the players in Lannisport, and you will work for me or leave the West.” He spun the dagger vigorously and then lifted his hands clear to let it spin, “I know you have no desire to move your son to King’s Landing or Oldtown. And I doubt you could practice your specialized skills any where else.”
Ferren could sense the debate in the woman’s head. She had been her own employer for a long time, and she had maximized her profits that way. With out any doubt she was the best at what she did in all of Lannisport. But she also knew what Feren said was true, and Lanisport was coming back under the control of the Lannisters; sometimes using the dagger, and sometimes the hammer. So Lyle was not surprised when she asked, “My Wage?”
Lyle nodded, “I will leave it the same as it is currently. I do not want to punish you. I need loyal servants.”
Angelique clearly bristled at being labeled a servant but Ferren did not care. He just studied her pristine forehead and waited. Finally she nodded, and Lyle smiled darkly. “Your first client is him, over there.” Lyle pointed to a now stunned servant leaning against the wall.
//////////////////////////
Black lounged against the wall of a boot maker. Trying to remember what he had been eating for lunch yesterday. He knew he had bean soup for dinner, but had he gone to the meat pie shop yesterday, or had then been on the previous day. He was running his hand through his beard contemplating this when one of his men strolled up and leaned next to him.
For a long time Echo said nothing. Black had always hated the man’s name, and wondered if he had chosen it for himself or if it was the one gifted by uncaring parents so long ago. If the man was not so good with the blade he carried, Black would have dismissed him long ago. Black continued to stare at the whorehouse and waited for Echo to speak. He knew the man was going to start asking questions very soon.
Surely enough Echo asked, “How long we waitin boss?”
Black snorted, “Ever fuck a whore?” Echo blinked and looked uncomfortable but did not answer. Black shook his head; the man was a hired killer but got embarrassed talking about any kind of sex. “He barely has his pants off by now; we have to let him get into it first. Otherwise he will not be instantly defeated.”
Echo nodded and asked, “Who is it again?”
Black replied, “Some high up at the Citadel.” Black nodded to himself. And studied the streets of Oldtown bored.
Echo fidgeted for several moments, he clearly wanted to ask another question but was worried about his employer’s sharp tongue. Finally working up the courage he asked, “And why are we doing this?”
Black rolled his eyes, “Are you sure you used to work for Jast? That man did not let his men question him at all. I remember once seeing this lad who had chunks of skin shaved off his face and neck because he asked ole Vikter one question too many.”
Echo said nothing for a long time, “I worked for a man who worked for him. I never actually met him.”
Black nodded, he had nothing else to say. After a couple of minutes he straightened and began to walk toward the back door of the whore house. He did not look; he knew his men would be following him in lock step.
Black’s boot took the door in one strong kick, and he was running up the stair at a breakneck pace. Walking past four doors, he lowered his shoulder and took the fifth door with his shoulder. It flopped open, not even locked.
Black stumbled into the room, and looked at the bed. There was one naked man, and two girls young enough to make Black’s hands curl in anger. He controlled the rage though and said, “Maester Jullien, it seems we have to have a talk.”
////////////////////////////////////////////
Timot hated his twin brother Tomit almost as much as he loved him. The two of them sat eating a decent, roasted lamb in the common room of the Vale’s Pond. It was not the worst Inn in Gulltown, but it was far from the best Inn. Timot had become an expert on Inns since he had left the Burnt Men.
He watched his brother greedily scoop up more of the spiced meat into his mouth, and that familiar rumble of pain, anger and love rumbled in Timot’s gut. He remembered the day the twins had to flee from their clan. Tomit was standing in front of the flames, and had been suppose to pull forth a burning brand, and scar himself in the manner of all Burnt Men. But Tomit froze.
Tomit had just stared at the flames, his face slack, and his hand unmoving. Timot had been eighty feet away silently urging his brother to reach out and grab his destiny. But Tomit had done the unthinkable he had instead backed away; the fear had gotten the better of him.
When the Twin’s father had moved forward to help his son complete the ancient rite, Tomit had resisted. Before any could interfere, Tomit had knocked his father into the flames of the large fire. Men leapt forward to help the burning man, and some to kill Tomit for his weakness.
To this day Timot regretted helping his brother. The two of them had fought there way free in the confusion and fled into the night. They had become exiles, and had eventually stumbled all the way to Gulltown, where they had turned to a life of begging, and petty crime.
They had eventually picked up a new life calling, and here they sat waiting to put that new profession into work. They slowly picked at the food will the waited for all the patrons leave the Inn. When the last civilian finally walked from the Inn, Timot nodded to his man sitting by the door. The man stood quickly, and locked the door.
Timot stood and motioned for his men to act. Quickly they stood up from their seats and rushed to grab the barkeep and serving wench. Timot stood back and watched as the forced the Bar keep’s head down to the wooden bar.
Timot missed his old life, but he had to admit he enjoyed his new profession. A smile played across his lips. Tomit drove his dagger into the barkeeps ear.
////////////////////////////////////////////
Lyle watched as Angelique worked over the servant. She had strapped him to a metal grill near the fire and had been using burning water, and straps on him for a while now. She had been at work for hours now taking breaks to just talk to the man.
Lyle was impressed, and thought she was worth every penny. He sipped at his tea, and wondered that he was not more squeamish. He would not have thought he could just sit here and sip tea while a man was slowly killed.
The servant started screaming. “The Beetle. I work for the Beetle.” Angelique looked over to Lyle and smiled. Lyle bowed to her. Money well spent.
//////////////////////////////////////
Black landed a punch into Echo’s gut. Echo was strapped into a chair, and surrounded by Black’s men. They all watched as their boss beat the man. Echo had long ago given up claiming he was innocent, and now he just groaned and coughed up blood.
Finally he whimpered, “I work for the Flea… please don’t kill me.” Black backed away and wiped his bloody hands along the front of his shirt.
//////////////////////////////////////////
Timot watched his brother back away from the bed. The serving wench was weeping and holding the blankets to her naked body. Timot asked again, “Who do you work for?”
In between racking tears the woman cried, “Royce… I work for the Royces.”
Timot shook his head, “No… you work for me.”
Results
The Lannister Network expands in the Westerlands, Oldtown, and Gulltown.
That desire was why he had invited this woman up the Keep. He was studying his dagger so his eyes would not linger on her pleasant curves. Her lips seemed made for kissing, and her green eyes literally startled him every time they made contact. Her long red hair hung to her magnificent bosom. All in all one of the beauties of the west.
Ser Ferren knew he had to look at her again, so he slowly raised his eyes to stair at her pale forehead. Hopefully she would not notice the kind of power she exerted over him. He was almost positive he would have to kill her is she did.
Lyle asked her, “Mistress Angelique I wish to retain your services full time.”
Angelique raised a delicate eyebrow and responded, “I enjoy my life quite as it is now, so I am afraid I must refuse.” She smiled in a warm and hopeful way.
Ser Ferren snorted once, “I am sorry, but I should have made myself clearer. I am consolidating the players in Lannisport, and you will work for me or leave the West.” He spun the dagger vigorously and then lifted his hands clear to let it spin, “I know you have no desire to move your son to King’s Landing or Oldtown. And I doubt you could practice your specialized skills any where else.”
Ferren could sense the debate in the woman’s head. She had been her own employer for a long time, and she had maximized her profits that way. With out any doubt she was the best at what she did in all of Lannisport. But she also knew what Feren said was true, and Lanisport was coming back under the control of the Lannisters; sometimes using the dagger, and sometimes the hammer. So Lyle was not surprised when she asked, “My Wage?”
Lyle nodded, “I will leave it the same as it is currently. I do not want to punish you. I need loyal servants.”
Angelique clearly bristled at being labeled a servant but Ferren did not care. He just studied her pristine forehead and waited. Finally she nodded, and Lyle smiled darkly. “Your first client is him, over there.” Lyle pointed to a now stunned servant leaning against the wall.
//////////////////////////
Black lounged against the wall of a boot maker. Trying to remember what he had been eating for lunch yesterday. He knew he had bean soup for dinner, but had he gone to the meat pie shop yesterday, or had then been on the previous day. He was running his hand through his beard contemplating this when one of his men strolled up and leaned next to him.
For a long time Echo said nothing. Black had always hated the man’s name, and wondered if he had chosen it for himself or if it was the one gifted by uncaring parents so long ago. If the man was not so good with the blade he carried, Black would have dismissed him long ago. Black continued to stare at the whorehouse and waited for Echo to speak. He knew the man was going to start asking questions very soon.
Surely enough Echo asked, “How long we waitin boss?”
Black snorted, “Ever fuck a whore?” Echo blinked and looked uncomfortable but did not answer. Black shook his head; the man was a hired killer but got embarrassed talking about any kind of sex. “He barely has his pants off by now; we have to let him get into it first. Otherwise he will not be instantly defeated.”
Echo nodded and asked, “Who is it again?”
Black replied, “Some high up at the Citadel.” Black nodded to himself. And studied the streets of Oldtown bored.
Echo fidgeted for several moments, he clearly wanted to ask another question but was worried about his employer’s sharp tongue. Finally working up the courage he asked, “And why are we doing this?”
Black rolled his eyes, “Are you sure you used to work for Jast? That man did not let his men question him at all. I remember once seeing this lad who had chunks of skin shaved off his face and neck because he asked ole Vikter one question too many.”
Echo said nothing for a long time, “I worked for a man who worked for him. I never actually met him.”
Black nodded, he had nothing else to say. After a couple of minutes he straightened and began to walk toward the back door of the whore house. He did not look; he knew his men would be following him in lock step.
Black’s boot took the door in one strong kick, and he was running up the stair at a breakneck pace. Walking past four doors, he lowered his shoulder and took the fifth door with his shoulder. It flopped open, not even locked.
Black stumbled into the room, and looked at the bed. There was one naked man, and two girls young enough to make Black’s hands curl in anger. He controlled the rage though and said, “Maester Jullien, it seems we have to have a talk.”
////////////////////////////////////////////
Timot hated his twin brother Tomit almost as much as he loved him. The two of them sat eating a decent, roasted lamb in the common room of the Vale’s Pond. It was not the worst Inn in Gulltown, but it was far from the best Inn. Timot had become an expert on Inns since he had left the Burnt Men.
He watched his brother greedily scoop up more of the spiced meat into his mouth, and that familiar rumble of pain, anger and love rumbled in Timot’s gut. He remembered the day the twins had to flee from their clan. Tomit was standing in front of the flames, and had been suppose to pull forth a burning brand, and scar himself in the manner of all Burnt Men. But Tomit froze.
Tomit had just stared at the flames, his face slack, and his hand unmoving. Timot had been eighty feet away silently urging his brother to reach out and grab his destiny. But Tomit had done the unthinkable he had instead backed away; the fear had gotten the better of him.
When the Twin’s father had moved forward to help his son complete the ancient rite, Tomit had resisted. Before any could interfere, Tomit had knocked his father into the flames of the large fire. Men leapt forward to help the burning man, and some to kill Tomit for his weakness.
To this day Timot regretted helping his brother. The two of them had fought there way free in the confusion and fled into the night. They had become exiles, and had eventually stumbled all the way to Gulltown, where they had turned to a life of begging, and petty crime.
They had eventually picked up a new life calling, and here they sat waiting to put that new profession into work. They slowly picked at the food will the waited for all the patrons leave the Inn. When the last civilian finally walked from the Inn, Timot nodded to his man sitting by the door. The man stood quickly, and locked the door.
Timot stood and motioned for his men to act. Quickly they stood up from their seats and rushed to grab the barkeep and serving wench. Timot stood back and watched as the forced the Bar keep’s head down to the wooden bar.
Timot missed his old life, but he had to admit he enjoyed his new profession. A smile played across his lips. Tomit drove his dagger into the barkeeps ear.
////////////////////////////////////////////
Lyle watched as Angelique worked over the servant. She had strapped him to a metal grill near the fire and had been using burning water, and straps on him for a while now. She had been at work for hours now taking breaks to just talk to the man.
Lyle was impressed, and thought she was worth every penny. He sipped at his tea, and wondered that he was not more squeamish. He would not have thought he could just sit here and sip tea while a man was slowly killed.
The servant started screaming. “The Beetle. I work for the Beetle.” Angelique looked over to Lyle and smiled. Lyle bowed to her. Money well spent.
//////////////////////////////////////
Black landed a punch into Echo’s gut. Echo was strapped into a chair, and surrounded by Black’s men. They all watched as their boss beat the man. Echo had long ago given up claiming he was innocent, and now he just groaned and coughed up blood.
Finally he whimpered, “I work for the Flea… please don’t kill me.” Black backed away and wiped his bloody hands along the front of his shirt.
//////////////////////////////////////////
Timot watched his brother back away from the bed. The serving wench was weeping and holding the blankets to her naked body. Timot asked again, “Who do you work for?”
In between racking tears the woman cried, “Royce… I work for the Royces.”
Timot shook his head, “No… you work for me.”
Results
The Lannister Network expands in the Westerlands, Oldtown, and Gulltown.