shelbs
oswin

It is currently WINTER in WESTEROS during the year 303 AC. The new moon cycle marks a full twenty years since the Mad King was murdered, and his son King Rhaegar ascended the Iron Throne in his place. Though the year is fresh, war in the Narrow Sea has left the Free Cities of Volantis and Tyrosh in ashes, and the Long Night continues to beckon from the Northern fringes of the Seven Kingdoms. With the Queen Lyanna presumed dead, the citizens of the realms look only to each other for survival.
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Alias: oswin
Gif: http://i.imgur.com/BxavzZ2.gif
Age: 21
Sworn To: the people
Born to: archon
Location: TYROSH
Title: royal
App: http://ateaone.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showtopic=545
Shipper: http://ateaone.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showtopic=60
Request: http://ateaone.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showtopic=344
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Joined: 28-January 16
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Last Seen: Yesterday at 07:43 pm
Local Time: Jun 24 2018, 07:09 PM
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LORAINNA TARGARYEN

ESSOS [A]

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Mar 25 2018, 05:56 PM
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Hey yo, it's ya boy. I know what you're thinking, why is Lorainna requesting Richard, well I'm bouta drop a deuce. Lorainna has been long contested and pretty much has had a shit run since coming to Westeros. Richard was, and probably still is, the only Kingsguard to truly like Lorainna and what she stands for. During her incarceration he was set to guard her, so the two spent copious amounts of time together just chatting and building a budding bromance that I need in my life. She taunts and heckles him where she can and finds comfort in the big white knight who laughs and gives her shit back.

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With a boisterous laugh and all too contending sense of humour, Richard is the light that oft floats through the walls of the palace. A strict and firm sense of duty, once married and with titles he gave it all away after the death of his wife. Determined not to fade into obscurity and be actively doing something with his life, Richard pledged himself to the Kingsguard and to be actively working to help his king and the realm.

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Canon info: Known in his youth as eccentric and gregarious, Richard Lonmouth was known to always have a belly full of ale and a woman on his arm. When he managed to win against Robert Baratheon at a drinking competition, many never thought he would end up in the bloody Kingsguard. Once a squire to Prince Rhaegar, he was one of the few chosen to attend he and Lyanna in Dorne during the War of the Seven, and because of his diligence, earned a spot on the most coveted brotherhood of the realms
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Now all that's left to do is make him! My discord is oswin#8029 if ya wanna chat bout my boy Dick Lonmouth <3

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<center><div style="width: 375px; font-family: abril fatface; margin-top: 14px; line-height:34%; font-size:16px; color: #33383f; text-transform: uppercase; margin-bottom:14px;"> Daniel Villa | 40
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<b><big><big></b></big></big><a href=http://cttw.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=16240> H A V O C </a><b><big><big>

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Dec 19 2017, 09:37 PM

Stinging sleet from the ocean roared to meet them, with each hard kiss of the storms spray, the sea was almost silent. Save for the chaos they thankfully had just sailed out of. Relinquishing her grip from the well lacquered bannister, Lorainna turned, returning to the cabin once more. With the Lannister prisoner safely secured in a holding room below, Muthaxa as his shadow, the newly made Targaryen could hardly find her solace. Would the sailors still so easily follow her orders knowing that it was her hand that stayed the blade into her father's still beating heart? Would they bow their heads in reverence as she walked past if they knew that it were her very hands that the Archon’s blood poured freely upon? Or would they spit at her feet and demand her head for the slight against their gods? What was it they would call her? Kinslayer? Even the word was ugly. However it did not amount to the vice that was in her chest. She had freed her people, and would rebuild them from the ground, but at what cost?

Had she sold her soul to the very Stranger for doing such things? Her talk with Tyrion had left her wondering only more. The lion had proclaimed to have done much and more in an effort to help, but whos cause? Would he keep the secret of the Archon’s demise? Unsure if he would, as he had nothing to gain from the very venture of protecting her. The entire event still felt as though she were wandering through the seas very mist. Unable to hear anything above a dull roar. The word had been spread, through the plight of ravens wings that Muthaxa, the Queen’s champion had been the hand to bring the destruction upon the archon that had caused so many heartaches. However, three people knew the truth. And there was only one that she knew would take it to his grave. Perhaps she deserved it, Lorainna would not ask the Lannister to lie for her, or blackmail him. The pitch of her soul had already been stained by her actions, the filthiest of crimes now marred her being. Sure that even the purest of beliefs could not scrub her clean.

“Your Grace, I have everything ready.” The quiet, and almost mouselike girl stood in the corner, the language of her home rolling off of her tongue like chiming bells. It was a welcomed distraction from her hurricane of thoughts. While she was no Gwyn, Lora had refused to bring her age old friend into this mess. And the girls parents were only happy for their daughter to travel to Westeros with its very queen. Lorainna had promised to bring her home upon her return, hoping that her own words would not fall short. “My queen, you are bleeding!” A gasp left her young charges lips as she spotted her arm, Lora chanced a glance to her bicep. The material matted with blood and sticking to the skin, the discomfort was welcomed, as was the deep searing pain within her muscles that her father's blade had wrought. It was the last blow he was able to land on her before… “It is not mine Val, have no fear.” Lorainna lied, for while most of her torso had been coated with her father's blood, she refused having a maester tend to her. There were people far worse than her, and the pain was a punishment for a sin that brought an end to an empire.

Arching her spine in an attempt to ease the almost cemented kink in it, Lorainna fell back into the seat. Stilling as Val’s hesitant hands slipped into her hair, loosening the knot at the base of her skull and encouraging the long emerald tresses from their cage. Leaving the girl to work in silence, and happy for it, it didn't occur to her until later that the small creature would have been terrified of the bloodied and imposing Matriarch that sat hunched in a decaying wooden seat before her. Sure that her silence would ease the tension, Lorainna was dragged back into her tide of thoughts. If it weren’t for the ache that was beginning to bloom and spread to her shoulder from her cut, Lorainna would not have been sure if it were her or the Archon that had died on the floor in the Palace of Tyrosh. For she felt nothing, and the pain was the only indication that she had survived the event at all.

A small gasp behind her drew her attention, making no move to speak of enquire, Lora had almost slipped back into her trancelike state when, “Uhm, there seems to have been a mistake with the dye, your grace… The colour...” Not bothering to open her eyes, for they felt far too heavy to be able to acquiesce to such a request. “I am sure it will be fine, Val, it is time for change.” And so it was. The remainder of the trip passed like a deep breath of air. Due to the tides, their arrival into Kings Landing was in the early hours of the morning. Dawn still did not threaten to break, the hour of the owl still in its prime as the sailors breathed in the silence of their home and went about their work. The myriad of colours combined on her skull was muted in the night, blending seamlessly with the violet and cobalt hues of the sky about them. Muthaxa jested that the path to her rooms may have been forgotten in the time that she was away. For how little time she had spent there before she had left. Not having the energy to reply, the corner of her lips spoke the levels that her tongue could not be bothered to.

With only the nod of her head in greeting to the silent vigils about the Kings chambers, Lorainna had to wonder if she were still welcomed within the walls. Refusing to let her steps falter, her entrance into the apartments was as unannounced as her arrival. Placing the weight of her cloak over the back of a chair, drinking in the warmth of the almost dwindling fireplace and the comforting musk that filled the very rooms. Assuming the king would be lost to his dreams, Lorainna stepped up to the disregarded carafe of wine, thankfully finding it not empty and pouring the remnants into her cup. With a sharp twist, Lora knew her cut had reopened once more. Feeling the newly formed skin tear at the seams and pool under the thickened fabric of her sleeve. Glad for the heavier garments, it was easier to ignore in favour of draining the chalice of its burden of wine. The bottom of her cup bearing itself far too soon, a weighted sigh rolled from her shoulders, released from her like water from a well. Shrouded in silence and darkness,her gaze found the fire and sought solace in the flames. Knowing she would not find it, but unable to stop herself all the same.

Nov 14 2017, 06:23 AM


There was more than just a chill sweeping across the turbulent waters. In all the chaos that laid at their feet, to the pillars that once welcomed her home. The city was now fanned with smoke. Beacons lit warning for the terror to come, in the distance she could hear the cries of children for their mother. Of dragons bellowing and shaking the very foundations of the city before her. The people did not deserve what was to come, fighting for a ruler who they did not believe in. Duty was ruled over their own want and honour, was that what the people thought of her now? The ones who so blindly stood behind her at their Leigh's call. Were they fighting for a battle that they did not believe in? The thought made her sick to her stomach, anything that held a mirror to resemble her father, the very man that had spawn her. Was she doomed to follow in his footsteps? Perhaps she was worse than he, lying to herself in an attempt to convince herself that this was the right thing to do. At least he was firm in his convictions and true to his greed. How could she champion for peace and freedom when she wrought nothing but horror and destruction?

Pressing the heels of her hands together, the lump that had solidified in her throat seemed to stick on the way down. Lorainna had to tune out the chaos around her, the people that had been sent out on her orders. With the ship's rocking gently against the swell at the city's gates, all they could do was wait. Her gaze tried to make contact with any of the guards in the towers, did she know them? Had they once sheltered her in their lives? Roughed her hair as she darted past, or passed her fruit from a tree that dared to grow its branches too high? Were they once the ones who championed her in the street? None of it mattered now. Swallowing the lot that Fate had so freely given to her, the new Queen of Westeros raised her head to the call that beckoned them closer from the shore. They were in.

Twisting the metal band about her finger once, thrice for good luck, the daughter of Tyrosh raised her head, summoning the strength she so lacked before surging forward. The length of her strides undeterred, refusing to falter or reconsider the path and momentum she so easily gathered. Without looking to her side, Lorainna knew he was there. His presence spoke to her soul in a way that words truly could not. Even amidst all the foreign iron clad soldiers, Lorainna would trade them all for the faithful man who followed her so easily into what she was sure was her own peril. “We have taken the West gates, it will not be long before they break through the doors of the palace.” The words she spoke were ones they had run through a hundred times, perhaps more. Now they were just a comfort to the green headed girl who felt lost in the jaws of her city.

“You know what to do then,” The language of her home flowed as easily from her lips as they did through the streets. Watching children stumble over their feet to get away from the foreign army, and mothers open their arms to beckon them home. “I must speak with him first, who knows what measures he has put into place if he should so fall.” The frown indented on her forehead weighed almost as much as the knife secured to her thigh. “He knows of my bleeding heart, you must do what has to be done Muthaxa, especially if I cannot.” It was only then did she pause to look at him, drawing the knife across her hand, feeling the kiss of the blade and embellishing in the flow of life from the cut. Offering her hand to his, palm outstretched and poised with her very question. “Promise me?” Would he swear this one last oath for her? To do what was right, not for her, but for the city before them. It was all that mattered, in the end. The strength of his shake rattled her bones, their blood mingling and strengthening, even as their grasp parted ways.

It was not long before the yawning throne room of her childhood opened before her. The filigree gold threads winding between the large marble casings. Catching the light from the high paned windows. The stone pillars, as thicker than elephants trunks towered like silent soldiers about her. The throne room empty, as the last few serpents slithered away to their nest. Fleeing from the heat of the dragon, knowing it was too late to beg for forgiveness that they would not receive. “Father,” The title that did not befit the statue before her, standing tall in the bonding light. Her curt tones commanded his attention, drier than the well that was suffused to his loveless heart. “Lorainna, I - I thought you to be dead.” Stepping forward, the weight at her hip growing heavier with each passing flex of her muscle, the glimmer of her chest plate refracting the light that dared catch it. “You hoped.” The emerald haired woman corrected, “Where is the dwarf, father?” The one that started all this. While the Archon of Tyrosh was a corrupt man, it could not be said that he was cunning. He could not have been the manifester of all this chaos, not on his own.
Oct 4 2017, 06:06 AM
There was more than just a chill sweeping across the turbulent waters. In all the chaos that laid at their feet, to the pillars that once welcomed her home. The city was now fanned with smoke. Beacons lit warning for the terror to come, in the distance she could hear the cries of children for their mother. Of dragons bellowing and shaking the very foundations of the city before her. The people did not deserve what was to come, fighting for a ruler who they did not believe in. Duty was ruled over their own want and honour, was that what the people thought of her now? The ones who so blindly stood behind her at their Leigh's call. Were they fighting for a battle that they did not believe in? The thought made her sick to her stomach, anything that held a mirror to resemble her father, the very man that had spawn her. Was she doomed to follow in his footsteps? Perhaps she was worse than he, lying to herself in an attempt to convince herself that this was the right thing to do. At least he was firm in his convictions and true to his greed. How could she champion for peace and freedom when she wrought nothing but horror and destruction?

Pressing the heels of her hands together, the lump that had solidified in her throat seemed to stick on the way down. Lorainna had to tune out the chaos around her, the people that had been sent out on her orders. With the ship's rocking gently against the swell at the city's gates, all they could do was wait. Her gaze tried to make contact with any of the guards in the towers, did she know them? Had they once sheltered her in their lives? Roughed her hair as she darted past, or passed her fruit from a tree that dared to grow its branches too high? Were they once the ones who championed her in the street? None of it mattered now. Swallowing the lot that Fate had so freely given to her, the new Queen of Westeros raised her head to the call that beckoned them closer from the shore. They were in.

Twisting the metal band about her finger once, thrice for good luck, the daughter of Tyrosh raised her head, summoning the strength she so lacked before surging forward. The length of her strides undeterred, refusing to falter or reconsider the path and momentum she so easily gathered. Without looking to her side, Lorainna knew he was there. His presence spoke to her soul in a way that words truly could not. Even amidst all the foreign iron clad soldiers, Lorainna would trade them all for the faithful man who followed her so easily into what she was sure was her own peril.”We have taken the West gates, it will not be long before they break through the doors of the palace.” The words she spoke were ones they had run through a hundred times, perhaps more. Now they were just a comfort to the green headed girl who felt lost in the jaws of her city.

”You know what to do then,” The language of her home flowed as easily from her lips as they did through the streets. Watching children stumble over their feet to get away from the foreign army, and mothers open their arms to beckon them home. “I must speak with him first, who knows what measures he has put into place if he should so fall.” The frown indented on her forehead weighed almost as much as the knife secured to her thigh. “He knows of my bleeding heart, you must do what has to be done Muthaxa, especially if I cannot.” It was only then did she pause to look at him, drawing the knife across her hand, feeling the kiss of the blade and embellishing in the flow of life from the cut. Offering her hand to his, palm outstretched and poised with her very question. “Promise me?” Would he swear this one last oath for her? To do what was right, not for her, but for the city before them. It was all that mattered, in the end.
Sep 27 2017, 07:23 PM
Branches of baby's-breath were woven between the ivy tendrils that looped so easily over the other, placed so sparingly across her hair, Gwyn jested that the colour was enough to make it look like there were more. It was the only supply that could be sourced from the cold grips that plundered every living thing beyond the walls. Crowns of flowers were a custom in Tyrosh on a girls wedding day, their bloom symbolised her own and the fertility that would come with it. With such waining resources, what has been plucked was secured with small pins that felt as though they were knotted into her very skull. Lorainna let out a breath of relief, however short lived it was. For while there had been, what felt like a multitude of hands and fingers knotting within her locks, they all blocked the true focus of her thoughts.

“The… inlet there, is more hook than round.” Gesturing to the map before and its map maker. He sighed heavily, clearly nervous from all the feminine energy that radiated around him. “Does it really matter, miss?” Narrowing her cobalt gaze, noting the saffron honey that still clung to the remnants of his beard. If he had been as diligent in this map as he had gorging himself from her food platter she would not have to point these things out. “It will be if a ship move take shelter there to see no cover and shallow waters.” Would a damaged hull and a dead flagship be enough to show him the difference between a bay and an inlet. “It empties with the tide to show sewers.” Lora explained, her gaze once more being consumed by the city. Her eyes widening with the thought that had struck her, none too gently in the side.

She had mapped every aspect of the city, the streets he had accosted as a child, to the walls that towered above the slums. How had she not considered the tunnels and network underneath? It would not take much, she was sure, a small group to infiltrate and to open the west gates for their entry. Entranced in her thoughts, and seemingly drifting closer to the parchment, it was only the sharp snap of fingers before her gaze that paused her from orbiting closer to the table. The darkened Dornish features of Gwyn swam before her, “Lorainna, focus, that can wait.” The no nonsense tone cut through whatever veil had been placed across her brow. Shaking the thoughts of war from her system, as best she could. Lora straightened her spine, standing above her friend before her. “You are right,” Coral lips admitted tiredly, “I always am.”

Lashes closed against the weight of the makeup and powder that adjourned her features. The past few hours had slipped by in a colourful haze. Burned into the back of her mind were the thoughts and dread of what was to come, the looming war made her feel sick to the stomach. Twisting it in such vigorous knots that she was unsure if they would ever be unwound. Fingers knotting within the silken folds of her gown, glad for the furs offered to the slopes of her shoulders for the ride to the Sept. Muthaxa faithfully in her shadow until the very steps that lead to her fate. His barbs and jests did not fall on deaf ears, however she could focus on nothing more than the turmoil that broiled within.

With this union marked the beginning of a war, against her own people and blood. She felt as though she were fooling herself, promising that it would be for the better. Is that not what all tyrants said before they went on with their unjust vision? Her footsteps were swallowed by the noise inside, stepping into the sanctuary of gods who did not know or love her. To swear vows before them, and an audience that knew not of her soul or intentions. They only tolerated her from the words of their monarch. In that moment she ached for home, slipping her arm through the crowned princes, he wore the scars of a battle just fought. Perhaps she could still smell Volantis’s ash, as if it clung to his skin. This was why she was here, to make sure that her home did not follow in the steps of her sister, and that she did not follow in the likes of her father.

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