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 greyjoy, donel
 Posted: May 24 2018, 07:04 PM
LENOLD is Offline
N/A years old

Lord Captain Donel Greyjoy

20 years old. iron islands. enrico ravenna

len. 23. gmt. discord/pm.

a man's fantasy
part one

BLAM! The door slammed open with a surprising amount of force. Tearing off of it’s hinges, it shattered like glass across the wall it slammed into. Heads snapped around to stare at the figure who had caused the destruction, but when they laid eyes on your likeness, they fell silent. Well, except for one man, who leapt from his seat and began to plead. “NO!” He screamed. “Fuck no, Captain I swear it isn’t what it looked like! PLEASE!” The man continued, but he was only met with a hungry smirk. “Well, your eyes are seriously fucked up then mate.” You replied replied casually, stepping closer in an even stride. Before anyone knew what was happening, you had the whiner’s head in a vice grip and started to dig your thumbs into his eyes. The man shrieked so shrilly that another fell off of his chair, but the sounds didn’t last for long. In the middle of the cry you slammed your victim’s head into the wall. Over and over you bashed, until every manner of fluid spattered over your own face, dripping into the crack of your lips.

“Fixed it.” You said suddenly, in a near sing-song voice, releasing the head and letting the dead body drop to the floor. “Now anyone want to tell me where I can find Codd?”The silence remained and in that moment you wondered how the fuck Euron could stand it. “No one at all?” You drawled, your eyes lolling into the back of your head. “He went up to see the Madame Mr. Lord Donel Sir!” A voice squeaked up. You turned, to see that the information came from a very unlikely source; he was a young boy, filthy and no older than one and ten. There was only one reason a kid like that would be in here, which made you only like him more. “Name?” You asked. “Ingwin.” He replied. “Fuck kinda name is that?” You snorted out, an amused grin snapping onto your face. “Eh. Come on then, you can be uhh - that thing the Greendlanders have….” The world couldn’t sit in your mind, snapping your fingers as you thought you grew mildly irked at yourself. “....the pussies with the metal hats.” “Knights?” The boy suggested. “YES.” You exclaimed, pointing right at him. “And they have...?” You asked him. “Squires?” He furthered. “See, turns out I could use an Ingwin.” Whatever the hell an Ingwin was, you thought to yourself.

Without a second thought you turned from the situation and headed for the stairs, no qualms about what you had just done. Some men in the Greenland might have taken action against you for such acts, but they had a ridiculous sense of the world. You had always seen things in black and white. The world around you was simple to understand and you couldn’t see why people made it so bloody complicated. After all, worrying was only a waste of time. So many wanted to be ‘good’ and kind to their fellow men, for their gods or whatever system of morality they ascribed to. But not you. Why should you care about other people? You would only live once and you would make damn sure that it was a fucking brilliant experience. No fear, no regrets and no holding yourself back for the sake of others. The Drowned God never made any apologies and nor would you.The stairs creaked under your weight, but even so you leapt up the last of them, skipping several at a time. You hummed along, practically trotting down the top floor corridor as you opened each and every door you passed. People either yelled in anger or didn’t even notice; Codd was one of those who didn’t notice.

Leaning against the doorway you watch as he rammed himself into the whore. He didn’t see you, but she sure did and smiled at you as you watched her tits bounce. Their moans only grew in volume, until ‘they’ hit climax at the same time. Funny, how she seemed to think Codd cared about that. He noticed you when he pulled out, gesturing in confusion as he wondered what the hell you were doing. “We have our heading.” You said easily, scooping his pants from the floor and tossing them his way. “On the ship in five or I leave without you.” And with that you turned around again, glided down the stairs and passed those cleaning up your mess. You had put the whole thing behind you by then, so it surprised you when you climbed onto your ship to find that boy still trailing you.“What may I do for you Lord-Sir?” He asked, obviously this kid didn’t understand who you were. “Cap. Tain.” You said pointedly, using your hands to illustrate the break in sound. “I am your Captain.” You said pointing. “And his, and his and his.” You continued, gesturing to another soul and another and another, all who quickly looked back down at the deck they were moping. “I am King aboard this ship.” And for once, the thing shut up.

part 2
“Is it true that you’ve drowned thirteen times?” Asked a small pre-pubescent male voice. “Where’d you hear that from?” You replied, irritated. “Marrick.” Was the response you got in turn. “Well Marrick seems to have forgotten how to use his tongue.” You half muttered, though the ship-rat still caught your words. “Does that mean you’ll cut it out like you did Ryton?” Bloody hell, the kid asked so many questions. Moreover it had become a daily occurrence. You had allowed it at first, for mostly he boosted your ego with it all. You’d told him about growing up without a father and how it truly separated the strong from the weak. The strong could grow into men without someone to guide them, they were meant to be leaders, like yourself. While the weak conformed to the practices of boys, focusing on petty things and frilly laces. Like Rodrik, and Theon had, a ‘woman’s influence’ you call it. Ingwin also knew how you’d acquired your first ship, why you’d name it and consequently what a ‘whore’ was. Though apparently it wasn’t enough for the greedy little shit. “Yes.” You replied to him, hoping he’d shut up.

“Why?” You groaned, “Because it sends a message.”.“What kind of message?” Ingwin asked and that was the final straw. Though, really he’d lasted longer than most. You picked him up by the collar and dragged him up to the deck, where you hung him over the edge of the rushing waves. “That I am a man to fear!” You began shouting. “THAT I AM FAR WORSE THAN ANY MAN I COMMAND YOU TO FACE!” It was a bit of a sore spot for you, as was rather obvious. For a time your elder brother had been off touring the world, trying to trade or something, and you had run free. Your mother manages much of the Islands’ daily duties, but you got to do the fun things; passing judgements on men and leading them in the raids they so craved. The ones they truly deserved. That was how you got your own coin, for no one was there to tell you to give it to your family. Riches you pillaged from other lands, as well as the mainland of Westeros itself; coins, jewels, wine and women. The men around you were happy, because you’d given them wealth. But it didn’t bind them to you. They were takers like you and wanted the best option for themselves. So when you challenged your brother, they ran.

And you learned.That fear was the only thing that would help. Not mundane fear either; they had to hate you more than they did the enemy. They had to fear you more than they pitied victims or loved their women. It is something you believe to be the key to power, but you haven’t figured it all out just yet. This trip was to test some theories, Codd had suggested that you find like minded men. Who didn’t just want wealth, but the violence and ability to act on their tradition. Euron suggested you find weaker men, like he had, though you never could bring yourself to remove everyone’s tongue. It would have been dull. So sometimes you removed a problem piece like lips, ears or eyes. Other times a burn to the face, or drowning someone who didn’t come back would help. You have no fucking idea what you are doing and your control is barely held, not that you realize that. Though one of your ideas might not be as stupid as the rest, because your brother is nothing more than a Greenlander who believes that conforming and gaining victory is true victory. He doesn’t realize that it isn’t always about the victory, but how one gets there. The Ironway is your heritage and giving it up would mean losing your culture. And isn’t what the Targaryens always wanted? What you’ve been fighting against for centuries? Victories are not everything; for you would rather die Ironborn, making others face the Iron Price, than live to see your people become petty politicians. That isn’t life.

And you’ll bet you aren’t alone in that sentiment.You pulled out a blade from the sheath on your hip and yanked the kid back over to the deck. Slamming him down, you sent the steel flying towards his extended limbs and nearly chopped off his left hand. “Either you work for me, or I'll send you into the begging realm as a useless, stumpy little shit." The child cowered, silence for one of the first times since their journey had began and you were grateful. For you finally had some fucking peace. It worked though, the kid was careful to learn your moods after that. You hadn't removed his fingers because they were quick and useful to you, but you wouldn't hesitate too the next time and he knew it. It helped that three days later, when you acquired a new 'officer' with similar ideals, that the same new recruit tried to start a mutiny. You stabbed yourself in front of everyone to prove that you couldn't be killed, then proceeded to make a gift of the other man to the Drowned God. It made sense to you and you thought it might earn your respect. In truth, all it earned you was an ever larger reputation for crazy.

part three
Homecoming is always sweet, you get to reconnect with your blood and explore the future together! Oh, so many possibilities! Though, in truth, you really had no idea what you wanted to do first; perhaps burn Rodrik's ship or cut off one of Theon's could make a pretty necklace out of that. Give it to Asha, she'd love it! A smile came to your face, the thoughts were obviously mockeries of your rather sad relations with your family. Entertainment on the way home really, but served it's purpose. In reality, you returned and well, not much of anything happened. Little changed, seemed you weren't a big enough catalyst for them anymore.

You did, however, get an opportunity many months later when your father's return was finally announced. You hadn't seen him since you were four years old, and in truth you had few memories of him. The past was never something you cared for anyways, your father was your future. Your opportunity to screw over that prissy Greenlander once and for all."Back already Donel?" Said a Lord who's name you couldn't remember. You only smiled in response, but he continued. "Which wife did you visit first? Gwyn? She was always my favourite." Your smile morphed into a sadistic smirk. "I know." You replied, clapping the man on the shoulder. "She's dead." Because you kicked her to death last when she asked if you'd bathe with soap next time, you thought to yourself, chuckling. "Meggie?" The man asked you. "She got fat." You furthered with a shrug, walking down the hall and away from him. What a waste of space that stupid man was.

Through Pyke you walked, heading outside and across one of the bridges, over to your chambers. "INGWIN!" You hollered, hearing the footsteps of the boy not a moment later. "Captain." He said with a curt nod. "By the dock right across from Davy's ship is a series of traps. Pull up the third from the left and fetch me the contents. I want to make sure my dear brother has a hearty dinner tonight." He commanded. Ingwin seemed a bit skeptical, but puttered off to do as he was bid nonetheless. Little did the boy know what he was really fetching; a decaying, waterlogged head which you had kept submerged for a few months. It belonged to one of the Botley boys, though you couldn't remember which one. One of the older ones had been on your ship when you challenged Rodrik, and as 'punishment' one of the other boys had mysteriously vanished not long after. The day before you had killed the man in the brothel, to be exact.

There was no reason for it, other than you wanted to see how far you could push him before he snapped. Or at least did something....interesting. How many days would you have of such freedom before your father returned? And you would have to give up such large stunts in favor of him. How cruel, the stupid patriarchy, you thought. But if you wanted to be on your father's good side, perhaps your acts should be a little less petty and a tad more 'generally rewarding' for the Islands as a whole. Letting it fade from your thoughts, you pulled off your breeches and tugged off your shirt. Twisting around, you grabbed the young blonde by the hair on the back of her head and thrust yourself inside of her. You could tell it was painful by the way she briefly squirmed, but you shoved her over the chest anyways and began to enjoy one of life's many great pleasures.

is rarely his reality
who he is

Donel is not a hard man to understand. While he seems to believe himself to be unpredictable, he does follow predictable patterns of behavior. Moreover, he can be easily manipulated, entirely unaware that it has happened at all. He is a threat, but not a political one. As a member of House Greyjoy, his actions can have ramifications that the Iron Islands have to deal with. Generally speaking, he says and does what he wants, when he wants to do it. Donel never thinks very far ahead and acts sporadically. His moods change as quick as the wind and he makes no attempt to control himself. With no moral qualms or system of conduct, he truly has no limits in action.He is entirely deluded, believing himself to be a demigod or representation of the 'Drowned God' who has come to preserve the Old Ways.

The funny thing, is that this belief developed off of a lie he told when he was a young teen. Now, he fullheartedly believes that lie - not even realizing it was a lie he concocted in the first place. With no sense of loyalty or useful 'noble' skill. He is dangerous. Because he doesn't care about what he does and thrives on chaos. When he doesn't get his way, he will fuck shit up, purely to make sure that if he loses, so does everyone else. Currently Donel is 20 years old and has no power in the Iron Islands. His name is his only authority, though he does have his own mass of wealth generated from his pirating a pillaging. He has even been known to attack ships headed to Westeros for trade, when he is unable to travel very far off for whatever reason. He does want that to change however, after a relatively recent trip across the narrow sea, Donel has formed a bit of a rag-tag group. They truly do follow him, because they want the same thing; free range, chaos and power over others. Yes, Donel actually has some friends. Few and far between, but well, better than he's ever had before!

what he wants

Ultimately Donel wants what is best for Donel. His immediate desires change rapidly, but above them all (and things he is easily distracted from) include: schmoozing his newly returned father, fucking up RoDICK's life, taking over the Iron Islands and literally pissing on the Iron Throne. If he fails, well, he'll just have to settle for fucking things up and people over as much as he can.

that which he doesn't know

• That Rodrik began the rumours about himself being too much of a 'Greenlander' to root people out. Donel fell right into his brother's trap.

• How many wives he has, or has had, he lost count really and often forgets about them.

• That a 'ladle' is a type of serving spoon.

• Land geography of any place.

• The names of anyone noble outside of the Iron Islands.

• How to follow any sort of morality system; he has no moral compass.

• Religions besides the Drowned God and the Storm God.

• That he is actually human, mortal and very much capable of dying. Probably easier than most, considering his obliviousness and lack of regard for his own well being. •

• Manners.

• How to read, write, or spell.

• That the 'Wall' is a real place.

• Details about the War of the Seven.

• That he is actually both insane and stupid, all rolled into one egotistical package.


 Posted: May 27 2018, 10:36 AM
Shelbs is Offline
25 years old
The Lich King
Glorious Leader


Sorry about the mix-up, Len! Super glad to have him back back <3

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