Post by The Stranger on Jul 29, 2008 10:28:54 GMT -5
In the yard Willam Dondarrion had removed his cumbersome armor for something a bit more formal. His body still ached all over from the various blows he had received in the tourney yard over the past couple days. In his hand his bow, and on his back a quiver filled with freshly fletched arrows. Willam proceeded to the field, where he saw his mark about 50 feet in front of him. Reaching behind him he could feel his sword arm ache as he drew the arrow. Over the past few day’s the spars had come and gone and while he relished the opportunity, receiving lessons from Darien Stone and others had left him quite battered. Despite this he knocked the arrow pulled and let it quickly fly. The arrow drove into the target extremely hard but wide of its mark. Willam preferred a bow with a very heavy pull on it. He did this despite the advice many others had given him. He liked to keep his sword arm strong, while at the same time improving his bow skills. However, his accuracy did suffer because of this as he was often times forced to shoot early rather than take his time and aim.
Despite his inaccuracy Willam kept letting arrows fly each time closer and closer to the target. After he was through with his volley he retrieved his arrows and rounded back deciding to make one more attempt. His right arm throbbed with pain, but despite this Willam drew back and kept firing with rapid succession. The arrows flew one after the other striking the target each further and further away from the intended mark.
Finally Willam drew back the last arrow, and hesitated. He thought of the consequences of the shot. He thought if this shot were someone’s only chance and he foiled it what may happen. What if this shot would save the life of his wife, his cousin, or his most loyal friend. He thought of all this and released his string. The arrow plunged into the bull’s eye.
----------------------
Kaland Stone sat pounding on the makeshift forge that had been erected in the camp of the Storm Lander’s. With each stroke his hammer fell folding the metal in front of him continuously. Kaland had acquired his materials from a local merchant earlier at Storm’s End, having spent a great deal on the top quality steel. With each stroke he thought of what had been occurring around him over the past couple days. The Stormland forces had arrived recently to see a massive army besieging King’s Landing. If it came to battle he knew it would be massive, and the death toll would be extraordinary. He did not care however, because he did not intend to die.
Kaland continued to pound the steel in front of him. He could see the purple dye weave itself into the steal as he worked the armor. With each stroke Kaland continued to ponder certain thoughts that had been vexing him. Kaland had served Willam as a friend and counterpart for many years. However, he had always kept his true intentions some what secret from him. Despite the ruse Kaland did not intend to stay subservient to Willam for his whole life. He had much larger ambitions than Willam would ever know. Despite this ambition, his loyalty was still true. After his father had left, Willam’s father became the only man Kaland could look up to, and the service and charity he provided for Kaland’s mother was enough for any man to appreciate. Although he was only a boy when Addam had died, he had been more of a father to him than his own father ever had….wherever that man may be. Addam Dondarrion gave his mother a place in his castle, and raised her son with as much respect as a he gave his own son. For this reason he and Willam had become good friends, almost brothers.
Kaland pulled the hot metal from the anvil, cooling it once more in the barrel of water to his side. He wanted more, but he would not betray Willam to achieve his ends. All he could do was play the game until his time came. He felt he had to make some move in the upcoming struggle but as of yet he did not know how. He removed the armor from the water, and then went over to his work bench assembling it with several other pieces he had constructed earlier.
Kaland hoped one day he would be something more…something more than just a peasant blacksmith boy without a father. He looked at the gauntlets slipping them over his hand. The metal was light, but Kaland knew extremely strong and resilient. The dark metal gleamed as the fires from his forge shined upon it. First the flames danced over the obsidian look on the gauntlets’ background, and then proceeded over the two bolts of purple lightning perfectly placed on each forearms. Holding his hands up he clenched his hand into a fist feeling the warm metal on his hand’s…”Dark Storm” he said as he raised his hand higher.
Hoping for:
Willam Dondarrion to Noteworthy Archery
Kaland Stone to Expert Blacksmith
Kaland Stone to Apprentice Politics
Despite his inaccuracy Willam kept letting arrows fly each time closer and closer to the target. After he was through with his volley he retrieved his arrows and rounded back deciding to make one more attempt. His right arm throbbed with pain, but despite this Willam drew back and kept firing with rapid succession. The arrows flew one after the other striking the target each further and further away from the intended mark.
Finally Willam drew back the last arrow, and hesitated. He thought of the consequences of the shot. He thought if this shot were someone’s only chance and he foiled it what may happen. What if this shot would save the life of his wife, his cousin, or his most loyal friend. He thought of all this and released his string. The arrow plunged into the bull’s eye.
----------------------
Kaland Stone sat pounding on the makeshift forge that had been erected in the camp of the Storm Lander’s. With each stroke his hammer fell folding the metal in front of him continuously. Kaland had acquired his materials from a local merchant earlier at Storm’s End, having spent a great deal on the top quality steel. With each stroke he thought of what had been occurring around him over the past couple days. The Stormland forces had arrived recently to see a massive army besieging King’s Landing. If it came to battle he knew it would be massive, and the death toll would be extraordinary. He did not care however, because he did not intend to die.
Kaland continued to pound the steel in front of him. He could see the purple dye weave itself into the steal as he worked the armor. With each stroke Kaland continued to ponder certain thoughts that had been vexing him. Kaland had served Willam as a friend and counterpart for many years. However, he had always kept his true intentions some what secret from him. Despite the ruse Kaland did not intend to stay subservient to Willam for his whole life. He had much larger ambitions than Willam would ever know. Despite this ambition, his loyalty was still true. After his father had left, Willam’s father became the only man Kaland could look up to, and the service and charity he provided for Kaland’s mother was enough for any man to appreciate. Although he was only a boy when Addam had died, he had been more of a father to him than his own father ever had….wherever that man may be. Addam Dondarrion gave his mother a place in his castle, and raised her son with as much respect as a he gave his own son. For this reason he and Willam had become good friends, almost brothers.
Kaland pulled the hot metal from the anvil, cooling it once more in the barrel of water to his side. He wanted more, but he would not betray Willam to achieve his ends. All he could do was play the game until his time came. He felt he had to make some move in the upcoming struggle but as of yet he did not know how. He removed the armor from the water, and then went over to his work bench assembling it with several other pieces he had constructed earlier.
Kaland hoped one day he would be something more…something more than just a peasant blacksmith boy without a father. He looked at the gauntlets slipping them over his hand. The metal was light, but Kaland knew extremely strong and resilient. The dark metal gleamed as the fires from his forge shined upon it. First the flames danced over the obsidian look on the gauntlets’ background, and then proceeded over the two bolts of purple lightning perfectly placed on each forearms. Holding his hands up he clenched his hand into a fist feeling the warm metal on his hand’s…”Dark Storm” he said as he raised his hand higher.
Hoping for:
Willam Dondarrion to Noteworthy Archery
Kaland Stone to Expert Blacksmith
Kaland Stone to Apprentice Politics