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Post by Dyther Morrigen on May 30, 2009 9:43:02 GMT -5
"Has anything been easy? Those of us from Westeros have lost plenty more than just mothers, Ser Euric, of that I can assure you. The Vale should belong to her by blood and title, though I suppose outlanders have little enough regard for twelve thousand years of history." Dyther spits on the ground. His wounded leg felt better now, barely any pain from its shattering several months before.
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Post by Flex on May 30, 2009 9:48:01 GMT -5
"I shall ignore that blatant insult, Ser whoever-you-are." Euric answered, the frown on his lips turning into a stiff line. "Rhaenys is a young woman and she will prove herself fit to rule. Your former king seems to think she is able, as do most of the remaining lords and knights in our force."
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Post by Dyther Morrigen on May 30, 2009 9:51:19 GMT -5
Dyther chuckled and walked away, his leg causing only the slightest of limps. Young women ruling, whatever had his kingdom come to. Not even a Baratheon, a damned bird turned magically into a lizard from gods know where.
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Post by Flex on May 30, 2009 9:53:03 GMT -5
Euric stared at the back of the retreating man, shook his head and laughed. "They'll just make your life harder." He says to the thin air, before leaving the training yard.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on May 30, 2009 13:12:01 GMT -5
////
Saenarys Whitefyre entered the training grounds alone, it seemed. He was not dressed as he normally was, in the roughly-hewn, Eastern armor. But was in fact dressed in what looked like a mish-mash motley of gathered-together scraps. They closely resembled the more Westerosi-favored armor, though, the similarities were squint-found.
He seemed a bit embarrassed by his attire, but moved to the center of the yard confidently, removing his sword, and swinging it in an arc at one of the many, wooden training dummies strewn about.
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Hope you all are well and happy.