Whilst Garin played with daggers and blood, she stuck to her potent concoctions, her gaze would oft drift to the store of herbs she’d brought with her when left alone.

Even during the feast, whenever possible, she’d have some wolfsbane or a nice healing herb, or maybe even some rosemary. Really, whatever suited her fancy at the time. She had power over the herbs and what was wrought of them, that was new to her, to someone so well adjusted to being infirm and incapable, perpetually.

She came to her table, a small secluded thing cornered in the makeshift room they’d erected for the night when the feast was over. A tent that wasn’t grand nor suitable for nobility in all truth was erected aro

**PC**

**Reddit Account:** u/SevenStarsMoon

**Discord Tag:** Moon

**Name and House:** Garin Yronwood

**Age:** 22

**Cultural Group:** Dornishmen

**Appearance:** Garin was a tall but lithe man, almost willowy but not without his own fair share of muscle, not that he ever used it, for he’d rather die than do the heavy lifting himself. He had servants to do that for him. He was often found in ornate oranges or plain whites, it depended on his mood and that was a fickle beast in of itself.

**Trait:** Insidious

**Skill(s):** Assassin ( E ), Devious ( E ), Sabotage

**Talent(s):** Arrogance, Arrogance x2, Arrogance x3

**Negative Trait(s):** Non

Thorny streets of jeering crowds crept upon the Lady, donned in a dress of composed blue that accented her frame like water did skin. She held herself with grace and poise, but nothing more, there was a toughness to her as well, she slipped through these crowds and meandered the groups with ease, almost as if she was a commoner herself, though she wasn’t, that was true. She was something better, something born of honour and forever would she steel herself.

Each plain faced maiden and sullen whore who danced past Madelyn seemed more foe than friend, each one wearing vicious stares as they peered into the woman. Though perhaps that was less their truth and rather

The clatter of horse underfoot, dancing between the filth riddled maze of hollowed faces, half formed ghosts and bawdy whores alike. Each one, remnant medallions of snow forged pasts, though such had come to an end. Now the Vale has ridden through gales and decaying roads alike to enter this grand amalgamation of disease and death. The mere stench was deafening.
Her glare, glistening with a solemn kind of judgement that lathered every poor damaged soul that trounced upon these cursed streets. Each heretic. Each blasphemer. Broken, their spirits blackened by misfortune and sin. One hand slipped from her reins, slowly flushing up her garments until she straddled a small chain from the bones

Quiet was the night that settled upon Kings Landing, almost as if heralding something sinister. A city so raucous in daylight turned silent, alas that was only true if one didn’t look to gaudier silken streets, where trollops call for culls even in such a midnight realm as this. Though in one dismal stone window lay a maiden fair, her hair of onyx slipping past rock as if she was stranded far from home.

Her gaze of emerald, meek as it blessed ireful bricks of material danced under the blessing of midnight. Her voice, slow and steady, drawn out notes of melodic chorus flushing the plainly dressed room, slowly drifting out into the dead of night like a sirens call. Anya’s words were sordid,

Thorny streets of jeering crowds crept upon the Lady, donned in a dress of composed blue that accented her frame like water did skin. She held herself with grace and poise, but nothing more, there was a toughness to her as well, she slipped through these crowds and meandered the groups with ease, almost as if she was a commoner herself, though she wasn’t, that was true. She was something better, something born of honour and forever would she steel herself.

Each plain faced maiden and sullen whore who danced past Madelyn seemed more foe than friend, each one wearing vicious stares as they peered into the woman. Though perhaps that was less their truth and rather

PC

Reddit Account: u/SevenStarsMoon Discord Tag: hero38242 Name And House: Lady Madelyn Arryn, House Arryn Age: 21 Cultural Group: Valemen Appearance: The Lady Madelyn was an Arryn beauty through and through, her skin was a snow like pale, only blemished by the flush of her cheeks on a particularly frigid day. Her figure was slender, lithe like was expected of her, for that was what she always did, what was expected. There was a sharpness to the gleam in her eye like an arrows head, with the right amount of conviction she could pierce. It was rare that one would see the Arryn without some aspect of veneration to the Seven upon her body, usually presented in the form of a seven-pointed sta

The three entered the tent, the slight bustle of what few people they could afford to pay to prepare this even if it was only for a day it granted them a short but sweet taste as to what their life would have been like.

The table was laid out with what they could afford, the food was hearty, the wine bitter but none of it was worthy of a Lord or in this case a Lady.

A woman adorned with her own long silver mane and sharp features, much sharper than her siblings sat at the table. “ Sister, Brother and? “ Aerea looked up from a book on the arts of sword craft that was placed in her hands to see the three walking in.

“ This is Lady Piper, Aerea, introduce yourself “ Aerea stood to attenti

The Golden Company had arrived in Drakes Lair, the fruit of their looting piled upon each other, stored in large carts. Thousands of gold it was though it didn’t seem to cause any great reaction from the twins of House Maegyr. They had grown for most of their years surrounded by amounts far larger than this and had spent even longer with a sense of pride being instilled and integrated into their very being.

Daemion travelled the twin camps, marvelling at their size, he strode the length of the camps before taking himself for a ride, to admire the bridge and Highgarden from afar.

The sights of the Reach once again dazzled him, an admiration spread from the very depths of his soul, gods wa

Daenys had enjoyed the air of Bitterbridge, perhaps it was the salt drifting from the Mander or maybe it was less of such a thing and more the fact she had obtained the chance to treat wounds of spectacular porportion.

Now they were to travel again, to Drakes Lair apparently, home to tens of thousands of men who would surely have obtained all sorts of injuries that would grant her great happiness or perhaps they would leave her defeated but either way she would enjoy it.

Daemion, Gwenyth, Lynette, Aeron, Aerea, Rhaena. These were the people she had vowed to protect, unknowing servants and family alike and furthering her skills would allow her to do that.

That caused a smirk to encroach

The sun seemed cold as he readied himself to leave this camp, eight hundred men marching against a larger force, they would lay in wait from what he had listened to.

Daenys seemed to check every plate of silver stained armour, analysing every piece of iron that made up his sword. It was compulsive from what he knew of her process.

They hugged, indulging in an embrace before she whispered in to his ear “ Don’t die idiot “ every battle he would fight, every duel for his life those words would ring through his mind, forcing him to keep going.

————————————————————————

They had waited for too long, unrest rattled his mind, he was fraught by the waiting, it pestered him but eventually they ar

Daenys had all but given up, maybe if they visited say Oldtown and she gained access to the Citadel the woman would try again to awake the dormant secrets of magic but for now she would search for relics, relics the golden company could assist her in finding.

There were relics hidden in these lands she knew it, just as there were in Essos and in the ruins of Valyria all she needed was to find them.

Her books were where this knowledge could be found, she had a few she hadn’t read and a few she needed to reread, hopefully in these she would find traces, maybe even the location of a relic, these relics held power she believe would truly be beneficial to her, to her brother, to the Golden Co

Daenys danced around the camp, this was where they would stay for this night and this night alone.

Her every step seemed lighter than usual as she pictured Lady Piper’s face, that conversation was rewarding for her.

Her hands seemed free as they swept through the sanguine breeze, her locks of white were tightly woven in to braids, braids formed at her aunts hands, they seemed to swing in the summer heat, it was hot even at night but she had learnt how to deal with it. She and all her family had grown used to it.

She made her way to her tent, stoic in its stature and stalwart in its defence against the increasing winds.

Inside was neat, clean, almost freakishly so considering the thi

Goldengrove, the birds sung their songs unrestrained in these lands. He had saw no golden tree though which had been a great disappointment to him though he knew such a thing wouldn’t be real.

The villages burned brightly under the sweltering summer sun, the golden light broke across his head causing a gentle frown to adorn his sweet features.

He grasped for the blade at his side, he swiftly danced, his blade singing a different song as it hissed in the woeful wind.

His movement were quick, though not as quick as to be inhuman or even extraordinary among the many warriors of Westeros and Essos.

The sound of his breath seemed to become quiet, almost non existent, his mouth remained st

The herbs aroma filled the tent, each one had its uses and its deficits, crimson dust grated and crushed after intense strain from Daenys, she found each herb almost endearing.

Their properties inspired her, to dance, to sing, to cry. They seemed almost magical to her, a remedy to near all problems.

She glanced around, her hand slowly grazing across each stained jar, poppies dancing in the almost vase like structures. Her hand finally came to a forced halt at the sight of an empty jar, a piece of parchment laid not far from it, it read as Vipers Tongue.

Her fist clenched as her eyes shook slightly, damn it all, such a herb was quite vital for the poultices she had been making to satia