Post by The Smith on May 27, 2009 10:54:05 GMT -5
The rocking of the ship made Imry open his eyes and look around him. Today was an exceptional day; he had went to bed with two girls and woken up with four.
Imry slowly brushed the nearest girl aside, and as he left the bed he slipped on his sword-belt and scabbard. Better to be armed than to be clothed, Imry noted. A sudden but relatively quiet knock sounded at the door. The rapping style hinted to Imry that it was Flax, his Summer Islander companion, a large dark skinned man and intimidatingly large muscles. And it indeed it was, Imry noticed, as the door opened and the man entered. Flax seemed to ignore the fact that Imry was completely naked save for his sword. Perhaps this was a normal occurrence.
"Majesty wants you on deck", Flax said with little grin.
"Eh, give me ten minutes. I'll make it quick", Imry said, leaving Flax to guess what exactly he meant by this.
Exactly ten minutes later Imry was on deck, mostly clothed, and ready to do business. Saella was an elder woman, of a different era from Imry. She had been born during the second Targaryen conquest, and now ironically she was leading the third. And he was taking her there.
When the pair were done settling their business Imry returned to his quarters where the girls had cleaned out and left his room nice and organized. Flax followed closely behind Imry, and the two began to talk.
"So where does the dragon queen have us going now?", Flax asked, rubbing a scar that ran down his right cheek.
"She wants us to join her in her conquest", Imry said with a grin, lifting his boots up on a nearby chair.
"I can't say I blame her, women never lose appetite, despite their age", Imry said as he winked. "But in all seriousness, I think we're best off joining her. What lays behind us in Braavos is not a fate I wish to tempt. The Sealord was far too generous with my sentence. Had it not been for my swarms of admirers", and he said this with some degree of pleasure, "I would have been executed. Personally."
Flax nodded, "I doubt that highly, Braavosi. Had he took your head he would have suddenly sprouted wood. Bolts that is. I cannot let a friend die so easily."
Imry laughed, rose, and clapped Flax on the back. "Let's get back on deck. We need to see her fleet safely ashore."
///////////////////
Weeks later the entire army had landed in the Sunset Kingdom. Imry had been nervous to step foot on his ancestral homeland, but slowly he had warmed to the idea. Now he was marching north with Saella, traipsing through unsavory climates and landscapes. Somewhere along the way Imry was confronted with the true nature of their journey. This came to him after the Stag King bent the knee... for Saella still marched north. What was her plan now?
The answer revealed itself with a frightening shrill one morning as their camp was attacked by living undead and a horde of white shiny freaks. It turned out that these were the Others of legend, though, and it turned Imry's mood sour. He had no interest in dying in the cold hinterlands of a distant land. He had a dream of returning to Braavos one day and settling down. He could not die here.
On that first day, Imry was cornered by an Other who had come into his own tent. Almost by accident Imry threw his lamp at the creature, unaware of how lucky such a move was. Flames licked around the Other, and he held his own against the otherworldly swordsman until it died from his burn wounds.
This sort of encounter became a rather normal occurrence over the next few weeks. Imry compared strategies with his soldiers, strategies for killing these beasts, and these resulted in some success. The wights were easier at least.
/////////////////
In the months ahead time passed quickly, though Imry would never remember it as such. Battles were countless and bloody as the troops slowly dwindled from casualties, wounds, disease, starvation, and hypothermia. Imry credited his survival to his blade and his will. He wanted to die in Braavos, and as far as he could remember, there was rarely five feet of snow and blue ice in Braavos.
The most impressive moment of Imry's campaign with Saella occurred in the last battle of the Ever-Night campaign. After watching Saella and a number of her Targaryen kinsmen struggle against Others, he came to their assistance. He knew that his blade was next to nothing against these creatures, so he fought smartly, making contact with their blades only when necessary. He moved quickly and incorporated each fighting style he knew in his defense of these people. At one he watched as Saella fell, a break in her guard let the Others open to land critical blows. Amazingly though, Imry stepped into her place as the Others closed around him, giving her kinsmen an opportunity to retreat. Though it would be much later, (when he had access to fire) that he could return and cut down more of these evil walkers, he defended himself marvelously, taking mostly grazing wounds. In time assistance arrived; men with fire. Imry did not break from that circle, that circle which he would never forget, until the last Other was dead, this one by his sword, and after he had doused it in fire.
After all, the First Sword of Braavos does not run.
Results:
Imry Willfyre receives Legendary Swordsmanship.
Imry slowly brushed the nearest girl aside, and as he left the bed he slipped on his sword-belt and scabbard. Better to be armed than to be clothed, Imry noted. A sudden but relatively quiet knock sounded at the door. The rapping style hinted to Imry that it was Flax, his Summer Islander companion, a large dark skinned man and intimidatingly large muscles. And it indeed it was, Imry noticed, as the door opened and the man entered. Flax seemed to ignore the fact that Imry was completely naked save for his sword. Perhaps this was a normal occurrence.
"Majesty wants you on deck", Flax said with little grin.
"Eh, give me ten minutes. I'll make it quick", Imry said, leaving Flax to guess what exactly he meant by this.
Exactly ten minutes later Imry was on deck, mostly clothed, and ready to do business. Saella was an elder woman, of a different era from Imry. She had been born during the second Targaryen conquest, and now ironically she was leading the third. And he was taking her there.
When the pair were done settling their business Imry returned to his quarters where the girls had cleaned out and left his room nice and organized. Flax followed closely behind Imry, and the two began to talk.
"So where does the dragon queen have us going now?", Flax asked, rubbing a scar that ran down his right cheek.
"She wants us to join her in her conquest", Imry said with a grin, lifting his boots up on a nearby chair.
"I can't say I blame her, women never lose appetite, despite their age", Imry said as he winked. "But in all seriousness, I think we're best off joining her. What lays behind us in Braavos is not a fate I wish to tempt. The Sealord was far too generous with my sentence. Had it not been for my swarms of admirers", and he said this with some degree of pleasure, "I would have been executed. Personally."
Flax nodded, "I doubt that highly, Braavosi. Had he took your head he would have suddenly sprouted wood. Bolts that is. I cannot let a friend die so easily."
Imry laughed, rose, and clapped Flax on the back. "Let's get back on deck. We need to see her fleet safely ashore."
///////////////////
Weeks later the entire army had landed in the Sunset Kingdom. Imry had been nervous to step foot on his ancestral homeland, but slowly he had warmed to the idea. Now he was marching north with Saella, traipsing through unsavory climates and landscapes. Somewhere along the way Imry was confronted with the true nature of their journey. This came to him after the Stag King bent the knee... for Saella still marched north. What was her plan now?
The answer revealed itself with a frightening shrill one morning as their camp was attacked by living undead and a horde of white shiny freaks. It turned out that these were the Others of legend, though, and it turned Imry's mood sour. He had no interest in dying in the cold hinterlands of a distant land. He had a dream of returning to Braavos one day and settling down. He could not die here.
On that first day, Imry was cornered by an Other who had come into his own tent. Almost by accident Imry threw his lamp at the creature, unaware of how lucky such a move was. Flames licked around the Other, and he held his own against the otherworldly swordsman until it died from his burn wounds.
This sort of encounter became a rather normal occurrence over the next few weeks. Imry compared strategies with his soldiers, strategies for killing these beasts, and these resulted in some success. The wights were easier at least.
/////////////////
In the months ahead time passed quickly, though Imry would never remember it as such. Battles were countless and bloody as the troops slowly dwindled from casualties, wounds, disease, starvation, and hypothermia. Imry credited his survival to his blade and his will. He wanted to die in Braavos, and as far as he could remember, there was rarely five feet of snow and blue ice in Braavos.
The most impressive moment of Imry's campaign with Saella occurred in the last battle of the Ever-Night campaign. After watching Saella and a number of her Targaryen kinsmen struggle against Others, he came to their assistance. He knew that his blade was next to nothing against these creatures, so he fought smartly, making contact with their blades only when necessary. He moved quickly and incorporated each fighting style he knew in his defense of these people. At one he watched as Saella fell, a break in her guard let the Others open to land critical blows. Amazingly though, Imry stepped into her place as the Others closed around him, giving her kinsmen an opportunity to retreat. Though it would be much later, (when he had access to fire) that he could return and cut down more of these evil walkers, he defended himself marvelously, taking mostly grazing wounds. In time assistance arrived; men with fire. Imry did not break from that circle, that circle which he would never forget, until the last Other was dead, this one by his sword, and after he had doused it in fire.
After all, the First Sword of Braavos does not run.
Results:
Imry Willfyre receives Legendary Swordsmanship.