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.
[x] SURPRISE! Please enjoy our new skin, and let the staff know if you find any bugs! (Shelbs accidentally overwrote the old skin and posted this too soon so it's entirely possible the dumbass she forgot some things!)
[x] THE FATE OF TYRION LANNISTER HAS BEGUN! Mass thread HERE! If you play a character that has been selected as judge, please join in asap! Otherwise the thread is open to all wanting to participate!
[x] Keep an eye out for a new mini-event we have been planning! The bloodshed fun is never over!
[x] As always... we are in need of MALE characters!
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Alias: Nica
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Age: 18
Sworn To: Greyjoy
Born to: Greyjoy
Location: Pyke
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THEON GREYJOY

IRON ISLANDS

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Mar 9 2018, 02:43 PM

this is simple. what would your character's life be like if they lived in the modern world?

theon is a frat boy. really digs natty, but classes it up to a high life when around company. huge fan of lacoste, those stupid frat boy shorts, and sperrys. is in the yacht club but is "between vessels". probably drives a black dodge charger.

doran is married to the job. spends most of his time working and traveling for work; is surprised when his kids act like they don't know him and his wife thinks he's a stranger. drives a mercedes in a safe gold color.

robert is the prototypical football dad. stupid competitive, yells at the reff. has a boat but never uses it, drives an escalade or a range rover but really wants a bright yellow hummer. hates his wife and is 100% banging the maid.

petyr is the weird guy in the office who got promoted suspiciously quickly. he's really into the stock market, and is probably a hell of a lot richer than he looks. does a lot of side hustles. drives an accord, which is a big step up from the beater civic he learned to drive in.
Dec 16 2017, 11:25 PM
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<one><b>//</b> good knife and a grin
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<one><s>captain rodrik greyjoy</s></one>
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<one>22</one>
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<one>head like a greenlander, heart of the islands</one>
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<one>ben barnes</one>
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<s>The Smiling Kraken. Perhaps Balon's eldest has a touch too much of the green lands in him; he prefers to lace his words with cajoling in lieu of threats, prefers the soft touch of silk to roughspun wool and salt-stained leather. Or perhaps this is all a facade; a vast game of smoke and mirrors, obscuring the Iron that laces his blood. After all, there is a drive in Rodrik that is notably absent in his brothers, an avarice that edges his smiles, hardens the light in his eyes. Power. It drives him, led him to the halls of Casterly Rock to secure for himself a betrothal the likes of which the Iron Islands hadn't seen in centuries. Myrcella Lannister, the golden child of the Rock, the Light of the West, would be sailing further towards the sunset.
<p>
Rodrik was always a distant figure to Theon; he was there, in the distance, but as Theon toddled to independence, Rodrik was already on to bigger and better things than playing with his kid brother. He simply never had the time of day for the youngest Kraken. And perhaps, before he knew it, Rodrik had sailed away, leaving Pyke behind him, and not coming back until Theon was already a man. Already a man, but still young, with all the stings and bitterness of youth. A natural leader, Rodrik is a natural choice to succeed his father at the helm of the Iron Islands. Of course, things rarely go to plan, not even patricide, and certainly not succession. Theon is suspicious of Rodrik; trusting the older Kraken even less than the wild, perhaps even mad, Donel. Donel could be relied upon to do the unpredictable. Rodrik? Well, he was something else entirely.
<p>
You also ought to take a gander at Rebecca's AD for Rodrik. She has more general info there; my ad is focused a bit more on Theon. </s>
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</div><a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=8549"><div style="font: bold 8px calibri; opacity: .5; text-align:center; padding: 5px;">BY MITZI</div></a></center>

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<one><b>//</b> We die alone, we'll all die young
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<one>captain donel greyjoy</one>
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<one>21</one>
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<one>here for a good time, not a long time</one>
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<one>andrew j west</one>
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Donel Greyjoy is unpredictable at best, wild at all times, and mad at worst. He's rash, impulsive, and prone to violent fits of anger, seemingly provoked by nothing. He was always the bully, and perhaps of the Greyjoy brood, is the one most stepping in Balon's footsteps. But that is an idealistic view of the middle Greyjoy son; a view tainted by his own words. Rather, Donel most resembles his uncle, the Crow's Eye. Donel is not a leader; he lacks the intelligence (though he is no simpleton) and is a much more effective follower. A strong believer in the Old Ways, Donel's path is carved with iron. He dreams of a second Greyjoy rebellion, of tearing free from the yoke the Greenlanders wrapped about their necks, and is willing to do perhaps anything to see that happen. Upon Euron's return from exile, he is likely to find a recruit in his nephew.
<p>
Older than Theon, and allowed more freedom, Donel was upon the deck of a ship from the time he hid away upon a lesser Ironborn's longship as a boy, and captaining his own vessel within a few short years, having proven himself through sheer boldness.
Unlike Asha, who vanished wholly from Theon's life, Donel wandered back through Pyke from time to time, as the winds blew him into port. He'd take Theon on wild adventures (or misadventures), drop him back off at home, and then disappear again for moons or even years. Due to this propensity, Theon began to view the older Greyjoy as something of a larger-than-life figure, and has a vague sense of hero-worship associated with him.
<p>
Rodrik is too wise, too distant from him to pay credence to his wild yarns, Asha too cynical to do aught but laugh at Donel's tales. But Theon is perhaps the only one who fails to see much of his brother's obvious flaws. Ultimately, Theon is likely to follow Asha with whatever choice she makes in the future of the Iron Islands, but Donel is the only other family member capable of making a strong case for the youngest. For better or for worse.
</div>

</div><a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=8549"><div style="font: bold 8px calibri; opacity: .5; text-align:center; padding: 5px;">BY MITZI</div></a></center>

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<one><b>//</b> the violence in the pouring rain
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<one><s>lady asha greyjoy</s></one>
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<one>20</one>
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<one>fickle like the sea, and twice as pretty</one>
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<one>camren bicondova</one>
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<s> Asha Greyjoy. In many ways, she's the best of the brood; fierce as a storm, merciless as cold water, iron running harsh in her veins. She's not tainted so much by the ideals of the Greenlands as Rodrik is; her ferocity lies close below her surface, not polished by pretty words and prettier plots. Nor is she as wild as Donel, unpredictable and chaotic, blown about by fickle winds. She also never had the opportunity to grow soft, like the youngest, Theon. No, as a woman in the Iron Islands, Asha had two choices: conquer, or be conquered. From the time she learned words, Asha rejected the idea of lady, instead preferring captain. As children, Theon followed after Asha like a lost puppy; the two youngest, they stuck together. Rodrik was too old for their childish games, Donel too much of a bully. Asha was Theon's first protector, his best friend, his partner in crime.
<p>
Until, of course, Alannys saw fit to send Asha to Ten Towers, the Harlaw home, fostering her with her uncle, Rodrik the Reader. Her time there did not temper her, it merely sharpened what edges she'd already possessed, polished her to a dim gleam. She was sailing as soon as she could tie a knot, and reaving from the time she could heft an ax. Captain of her own ship, she's the equal to any Ironborn man, and woe to the fool who underestimates her.
<p>
This is where Theon comes in. From the time of their separation, nearly ten years before, they have not seen each other, and are nearly strangers. Theon hates her for this, hates her for his abandonment, as he watched all his siblings sail into the distance, and yet, they are blood. He's a hot mess, let's be real, and of all his siblings, despite that bitterness, Asha is the one he loves most, trusts most. </s>
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</div><a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=8549"><div style="font: bold 8px calibri; opacity: .5; text-align:center; padding: 5px;">BY MITZI</div></a></center>

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Dec 6 2017, 09:43 PM
When Greenlanders thought the word "island", inevitably, images of warm sands, cool breezes, and endless sunlight crossed their minds. Such an image was merely a fantasy to the Ironborn. Their island breezes were sharp and biting, smelling of salt, and carrying the furor of the North in their claws; their sands coarse, strewn with pebbles and sharp shards of shells. The sky above was slate gray, moody clouds hung low upon a horizon that darkened to navy in the east, and still burned copper in the west. The young Greyjoy ran long fingers through his unkempt mane of black hair, spilling dark curls from his crown to his collar, mussing them before the wind got her clawed fingers into them, and tangled the silky locks into a coarse mess. Blue-gray eyes mirrored the sea that stretched on endlessly before him; alternately calm and yet stormy, gentle and yet fierce, kind and yet cruel. It had been a habit of many years for the youngest Kraken to find himself upon this rocky point, jettisoned out to sea. Upon low tide, one could walk across slate-gray stones what felt like halfway out to sea, and peer into pools of water collected within divots in the cold, slick stone. At high tide, the stones were of the Drowned God's domain, hidden beneath the cold water.

The tide this evening was low, enabling the young Greyjoy to leave his boots upon the shore and traverse the stones barefoot, arms outstretched for balance's sake, carefully placing one foot before the other, taking special care to not slice himself upon the sharp rocks, nor to slip into the cold, dark waters that rushed to either side. It was a metaphor of sorts, Theon mused to himself, as he stared at the white-lined waters that lapped at the slick stones beneath his bare feet. Balancing between equally dark forces, forces that rushed to either side of him. The Iron Islands were upon a precipice, the whole of the Ironborn people held their arms out for balance as the Krakens wrestled for dominance. His stranger of a father had sailed upon dark tides to return to his roost in the dark towers of Pyke, to sit upon the unsettlingly black Seastone Chair. And his brother, also a stranger, but not quite so strange, eyed that chair with an intensity that made Theon's skin crawl. Sure, as a boy, he'd dreamed of sitting upon it himself (and even had slipped into the throne room when none were looking to sit his boyish frame upon it, short legs dangling over the side), but he'd grown out of such fantasies.

However, those were far from the darkest tidings to have reached his ears. More disturbing, it seems as if his brother and father were either unaware of them, or did not care. Theon wasn't quite sure which would be worse. Because, thanks to Theon's less than savory habits of lurking within sailor's sinks and simply listening to sailors' gossip, he'd heard rumors of the Crow's Eye. Balon was too proud to find himself where his youngest lurked, Rodrik too busy with his own business. But Theon...well, he was just as swiftly forgotten in Lordsport as he was within the battlements of Pyke. All, save one. He awaited her even now, ears sensitive to the sounds of feet upon soft sand, the crunch of boots upon pebbles. There was a strange warmth within his chest as he contemplated her lopsided grin, the slit-lidded glares she leveled upon him when he cracked a particularly distasteful joke, the way her hips swayed to and fro as she walked. Girls came and went for Theon, much like the tides, but she was constant. Much like the rocks he stood upon even now. Sometimes she wasn't there, sometimes he wasn't there, but neither was ever truly far away. The sound of feet drew him from his reverie, and the young Kraken spun around, lopsided smile upon his lips.

"My lady," he greeted, somewhat mockingly.

@PHILYPPA
Jul 22 2017, 12:23 AM
[dohtml]
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it's three in the morning and i'm trying to change your mind

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lyla

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17 | iron islands | jessica kennedy

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<p>Theon Greyjoy fancies himself a sort of a playboy; drifting from one bed to another, from one set of arms, to another pair of lips. He doesn't get attached, or so he says.
<p>
Or so he admits.
<p>
There's one bed he returns to, however, the one set of soft arms, of sweet lips that he finds himself craving, is Lyla. She's the daughter of a fisherman, and works in a tavern, supplying ale to sailors and other unsavory sorts. And Theon. She caught his eye with a swish of her hips, a smoldering glance from dark eyes. He'd never admit it, but he was inflamed from the start, entranced from the very moment her fingers brushed his arm, the moment her husky voice reached his ears.
<p>
He tells himself he returns to her side because she expects nothing from him emotionally; that she likes him for the baubles he brings, the way he whisper in her ear.
<p>
What she thinks is another story. Perhaps Theon is correct: she likes him for what he is and what he brings: a reliable lay with baubles and coins a-plenty. Perhaps she loves him; loves that lopsided way in which he smiles, truly smiles, when the light illuminates his stormy blue eyes. Perhaps she's as jaded as he; knows he will likely marry some highborn girl who knows how to embroider, and plays the harp; perhaps she loves him for the moment. Or perhaps she's still in possession of a spark of naïveté: somehow, she believes they will end up together, hand in hand.
<p>
Regardless, of her dreams and attitudes (those are up to you) she is a beautiful lady possessed of a sharp wit, and an attitude to match. Her clientele are rough-tongued sea-folk, and she's a tongue to parry advances and salty words. She and Theon are prone to good-natured arguments and witty banter, but just as easily soften their tongues to pillow-talk. Perhaps that is another reason Theon keeps returning: she has no fear to put him in his place.
<p>
Anywho, her face is Jessica Parker Kennedy, and I love her. This ad was partially inspired by her character in Black Sails, but also has been floating around my head for a while. She's mentioned in Theon's first post in this thread, but it's nothing in-depth, just a passing reference. Anyway, holla at me with any questions, headcanons, feelings, whatever, my Skype is nicapikachu, and I'm always reachable via PM. <3 u.
</div></div></div><div class=spencredit><a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=17198">♥ spenny</a></div>[/dohtml]
Jul 9 2017, 05:28 PM
It had been well over a decade since they'd been in a room together. Sure, over the years, they'd run across each other, some more than others. Of the three other Greyjoy siblings, Theon was most familiar with Donel; with the man who'd inherited more of that Greyjoy madness than the rest of them. The one who'd taken most after their uncles. Asha was nearly a stranger now, even following their recent meetings. And Rodrik, well... The youngest Kraken shook his head and rolled stormy blue eyes at the thought of the eldest Kraken. He was an asshole. An asshole with pretensions of power and influence. Arguably, that was the worst sort of asshole. Perhaps Theon merely chafed beneath him moreso than the others because, it was true. Rodrik did have that power that the rest of the siblings did not. Asha was fierce as a storm at sea; its rough waters reflected in her eyes. She was strong like none of the others were, like honed steel. Donel was violent like none of the others were, willing and capable of lashing out like a serpent cornered, and unencumbered by such things as 'reputation' and 'good taste'.

Theon almost admired that.

He was the forgettable one. No real accomplishments, no real drive, no real expectations levied upon him. Still, he wasn't quite sure if he was ready to pick up a mantle, if any. Theon didn't mind drifting, if drifting was what he was meant to do. Still, there was something niggling at the corners of his mind, some trace of the iron and salt in his blood urged him to seek new horizons, to find that which made his blood sing. To find that which would make his family proud to call Theon a Greyjoy. Those thoughts tended only to find Theon late at night, when he lie awake, staring at the ceiling of his room, listening to the crash of the waves hundreds of feet below the Sea Tower. However, they were more incessant now that he was, once more, surrounded by his own blood. It was the first time in over a decade that the entirety of his family was in the same place. Balon had arrived not a fortnight before, and even Asha was on shore, and Donel had crawled from the woodwork, smelling like iron, salt, and cheap booze. To mark the occasion, Theon had located a barrel of ale, and sent the message out to his siblings.

It wasn't, of course, just like old times. But they hadn't been in a single room together since...since, well, Theon could not recall. And what better time than the present to rectify that? The meeting room was neither large nor grand, and sat in the Kitchen Keep, since Theon could not be arsed to roll the barrel of ale any further than the cellars. He'd put in his effort for the event, and even if none of his siblings showed, he wouldn't care. After all, what better company could there be than a barrel of Pyke's best (worst?) ale? The youngest Kraken had already tapped the barrel, mug in hand, boots kicked up, looking for all the world as if he was relaxed. However, behind those stormy eyes, that insolent grin, he was coiled as tightly as a spring, more nervous than a maid on her wedding day.

Fake it 'til you make it.

@RODRIK GREYJOY @DONEL GREYJOY @ASHA GREYJOY
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