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] OTMS ARE UP! Congrats to all our beautiful winners <3
[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!
 
Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll

 Spineless, Pale, Pathetic, Theon
ASHA GREYJOY
 Posted: Mar 1 2018, 01:10 AM
Quote
Ash is Offline
20 years old
IRON ISLANDS
Rodrik Greyjoy
House Greyjoy
Pyke
Captain


Something had to be done about Theon.

Whatever reasons her mother had for keeping the boy close to home could be honored no longer. He was a Greyjoy and a man grown; it was about time he started behaving like one. Asha had anticipated that their elder brothers would take that task upon themselves whilst she was fostering at Ten Towers, but Rodrik and Donnel had done no such thing. Sure Donnel had taken him to a brothel and bought him his first women - but bedding a woman didn’t make him a man, and it certainly didn’t make him captain material.

Upon first becoming Captain of her own ship Asha had fully intended to make her baby brother part of her crew. He could learn better that way, get his sea legs. See what it took to earn the respect of one’s men. But their mother had said no, she wanted him closer to home. At least for a little while longer. If that response was any indication of the man Theon had been raised to be, Asha wasn’t going to put up much of a fight. Making room for such a man on her ship would have called her own judgement into question, and at the time Asha’s place as Captain of the Black Wind had been far too uncertain. She’d still been working on proving herself.

But much had changed in the few short years that had passed since then. Balon, her father, had been returned from within the dragons clutches, for better or worse. He was a changed man, however, or so others told her. She’d never known the Kraken in his true glory, and was not particularly impressed with what he’d become. Neither was Rodrik, or so it would seem. Asha knew not what sort of coup he was planning, but she did know he’d requested her support in the months to come. In exchange Asha would be named Captain of the Iron Fleet - the first woman ever to hold such a title, if she was recalling her history lessons correctly.

The one condition she’d given was that Theon not be harmed in whatever was to come. Her eldest brother made no concrete promises; Theon was a grown man, after all, and his actions could not be predicted. Those actions may or may not have consequences. Thus the only thing she could do to ensure his safety was to ensure that he was indebted to her - loyal to her. When push came to shove Asha needed to know her youngest brother would be on their side, and he could not do so by hiding behind their mother’s skirts. It was time for Theon to become a man. A real man.

Having promised her mother that no harm would befall her precious babe, Asha kissed the woman’s cheek and headed for the docks where her ship was anchored. This was not the sort of journey she intended to casually invite her brother along for. Heading down to the docks, the Kraken’s daughter boarded her ship. ”Retrieve my youngest brother from the castle,” she instructed, turning her attention to the towering Rogan Rustbeard. ”Do not state your purpose. Use whatever means necessary.”
PM
^
THEON GREYJOY
 Posted: Mar 6 2018, 11:21 PM
Quote
Nica is Offline
18 years old
IRON ISLANDS
Greyjoy
Greyjoy
Pyke
Not Lord Reaper


Worn boots rested atop a table stained by years, by black ales, blood, and other substances better left unknown. Their owner lounged in a chair tipped precariously backwards, balanced upon just two legs, rocking to and fro as he bent and straightened his knees. "He's promising change, you know," the sable-haired youth drawled, stretching the words lazily, an insolent smirk curled upon his lips. 'You believe that as much as the rest of us,' his companion replied, rolling his eyes. He was older by a few years, and had a rough look about him. The son of a saltwife and some long-forgotten noble, the Pyke leaned forward in his chair, elbows upon his knees, a half-empty pint close to hand. Theon bent his knees to bring himself closer to the table to grab his own pint, whereupon he drained it, and slammed the empty tankard upon the worn wood. "Does it matter what I believe?" The question was rhetorical, and the young kraken stretched his legs out once more, leaning back from the table. "I'm the spare's spare. Even Asha is before me." It wasn't a whine that crept into his voice, but rather acid. 'You ain't telling me shit I don't know,' the other replied, shrugging his broad shoulders, before downing the rest of his tankard. He stood, grabbing Theon's own tankard. 'I'll be back.'

Theon nodded in response, closing his eyes for a brief moment as his companion's boots stomped away. The moments dragged by, the quiet broken by the crash of waves somewhere far below, and heavy boots sounded soon enough. "Did you get lost?" Theon asked mockingly, eyes still shut. But there was no response; only a few more steps, and then Theon was falling. Someone had kicked the leg of his chair forward, sending the young Ironborn backward, and he curled forward, arms flying back to protect his head. "What the fuck?" the young kraken spat, scrambling to his feet. Gray-blue eyes, the exact shade of a sea at storm were narrowed to vicious slits as he rose to face his assailant. Who was not who Theon expected. "Who the fuck are you, and who let you in here?" he demanded, pulling himself up to his full height, putting on the haughty attitude of a young lordling. 'You'll come with me,' the stranger replied, crossing his arms. Theon's brow furrowed. "The fuck I am," he retorted. "Let me guess; I fucked your woman?" the haughty brunette shrugged, holding his hands out, elbows bent. "You ought to have fucked her better yourself."

The last thing Theon recalled was the man shaking his head, and letting out a long-suffering sigh, before the world suddenly went black.

His head ached. As the world materialized around him, Theon was acutely aware of being carried, his head thumping against a strange man's back. The same one? Most likely. "If you don't put me down, I'll drown you in a barrel of seawater myself," Theon growled, kicking as hard as he could. 'Very well,' the man rumbled, dropping the young kraken unceremoniously. Theon landed in a crumpled mess upon a wooden deck, the boards smooth beneath his hands and slick with seawater. He scrambled to his feet, body and dignity bruised and immediately forgot the enormous man who'd brought him here. Her. Theon ran a hand through ink-dark strands, ruffling them, leaving him looking windblown. "My favorite sister," he greeted flatly. "Couldn't you have come yourself? I'm easy. Just say, 'Hey Theon, follow me,' and we could have avoided all this. What the fuck is your problem?" He jerked a thumb at the man who brought him. "And what the fuck is his problem?"
PM
^
ASHA GREYJOY
 Posted: Mar 7 2018, 02:18 AM
Quote
Ash is Offline
20 years old
IRON ISLANDS
Rodrik Greyjoy
House Greyjoy
Pyke
Captain


Asha wanted to have faith in her younger brother, really she did. But Theon insisted on being such a useless shit. Wanted everything handed to him - to throw his name around like it meant something to be a Greyjoy. Respect wasn’t given freely on the Iron Islands, it had to be earned. It wasn’t just about raiding; so few Ironborn truly raided anymore, after all. Dagon Greyjoy had been the Last Reaver, and he sat the Seastone Chair a hundred years ago. In his days and before them the Lord of the Iron Islands led his men on great raiding parties all along the western coast. Dagon Greyjoy had made off with half the wealth of Fair Isle in one go of it. The might of the Iron Throne had simply been too strong; the Targaryen Kings always put them back in their place.

Of course that did not mean that raiding had been done away with entirely. They merely went on smaller raiding parties, led by individual captains attacking different villages. But it had long since ceased to be their way of life. Respect was indeed not about raiding, but leadership. Rodrik had earned himself that title, sailing his crew to Essos and raiding foreign soils. Bringing the spoils back to the Iron Islands. Even Donel had earned the respect of a crew, though Asha was never entirely sure how. Balon had tried to be a leader, but he’d gotten too caught up in reclaiming his title - and where had that gotten him? Eighteen years as Rhaegar Targaryen’s prisoner all for the chance to call himself “King.” King of bloody what? A title didn’t change their land, their resources, their people. It had been a foolish endeavor, and now he’d likely be daft enough to try again. The Old Way was done.

But Theon? He had no ship, no crew. No respect. Asha would bet her ship he wouldn’t put up a fight against Rustbeard. It was an embarrassment. There was more to life than drinking ale and fucking women - though she could understand his enjoyment of each. But a fuck was always better after a fight anyone worth their salt knew that. In fact, it was one of the reasons Dorne was her favorite place to sail - their women seemed to know it best of all. Mighty good fucks, those Dornishwomen.

Pacing the deck of her ship, the Ironborn Captain looked up as Rogan Rustbeard returned, Theon slung over his shoulder. Disappointment washed over her, though she did not show it. Jaw clenched and brows knit together, Asha crossed her arms over her rather flat chest as Theon came to and demanded to be put down. A rather sly grin curled the corner of her mouth as Rustbeard dropped him onto the hard deck. Served him right really, being so demanding like. ”What would be the fun in that?” she asked rather calmly, enjoying seeing her brother get puffed up over something. At least there was a hint of fight in him, albeit not much.

”What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve got an incompetent shit for a brother, that’s what. What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked, voice raising slightly. Rogan didn’t have hardly a scratch on him, which meant Theon couldn’t have put up much of a fight. Pathetic indeed. “You let him take you, just like that. Do you give it up so easily for all the men, Theon? Or is Rogan here special?” The smirk found its way back to her lips, and she ruffled his hair as if he were a child - mocking his attempt at a windswept look. A sailor shouldn’t need to try and make their hair look windswept. “Looks like you put up some fight,” she continued sarcastically. ”Rogan bruises like a peach and he hasn’t got a mark on him. Did you even try to hold your own?” There was not cruelty in her tone, but rather frustration and disappointment. There were rough waters ahead - literally and metaphorically. The future of the Iron Islands was uncertain, and Theon was likely to be lost at sea.

Turning away from him, she gave the signal to hoist the anchor and let loose the sails. “Go on and make yourself useful, then," she called to Theon as she headed for the helm of the ship. "We’re going raiding.”
PM
^
THEON GREYJOY
 Posted: Mar 11 2018, 02:25 AM
Quote
Nica is Offline
18 years old
IRON ISLANDS
Greyjoy
Greyjoy
Pyke
Not Lord Reaper


The expression upon the young kraken's face was not the typical mask of amusement and indifference; a smirk plastered upon curled lips, eyes bright with humor. No, instead it lay somewhere between exasperation, annoyance, anger, and amusement; his jaw was set, dark brows furrowed to a line, the glint in blue-gray eyes something steely. But there was a quirk in his lips; as if he was but a breath away from laughter, a moment away from breaking into one of his trademark infuriating grins. "Point," he replied, words simultaneously amused and clipped, acknowledging her words. "Counterpoint: this will not work on me again." Fool him once, shame on her. Fool him twice, well...he wouldn't be fooled again. Not that he was necessarily fooled. Judging by the pounding of his head, he'd have a lovely bruise spreading across his temple soon enough. The young kraken did not have the courage to give the area an exploratory poke, both fearing the pain it would cause, and the scorn of his sibling, and the man who'd brought him here. Instead, he gamely ignored the throbbing.

The youngest kraken could not help but feel ruffled at his sister's words, and felt himself growing defensive, jaw jutting forward, lips a line, eyes glinting darkly. "Fuck you," he responded, rather weakly. What defense would he give? She was right. And that cut deeper than any knife, deeper than any harsh words. Had her words been a lie, they would have rolled from Theon's back like so much water. Instead, they pierced his skin, stabbed into his gut. "I don't have to prove myself to you," he spat. 'Do you give it up so easily for all the men, Theon?' The rage rose inside Theon like bile, acid burning the back of his throat; but he did not explode. Instead, he responded the best way he knew how. The line of his lips twisted into a lopsided grin; less a smile and more of a baring of teeth. "Only the pretty ones," he replied, winking, the acid in his voice biting. "And only if they promise a reach-around." With a roll of his eyes, the youth crossed his arms and the humor faded from his expression. "First he tipped my chair, and then he hit me whilst I was distracted. Hardly a fair fight." Curling his lip, Theon batted away the hand that ruffled his hair. "I'll break your fucking fingers," he warned, half-joking.

"Does he?" Theon eyed the towering Rogan skeptically. "I'll try and remember that." He returned his sea-blue gaze to his sister. "Asha, I've been drinking since I woke up. Forgive me if my reflexes aren't honed." Sarcasm dripped from his tones. Truthfully, he had not been drinking that long nor that hard, and his tolerance for his preferred swill was honed over years of drinking as a pastime. Perhaps he might be slightly slowed, but it would soon wear off; his tongue was as sharp as ever, and the dark-haired youth was not stumbling over words. "Make myself--" he sputtered, eyes wide. Raiding. The Ironborn had largely abandoned the old ways, been made to adapt to the ways of the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. He didn't even have his sword with him. "I'm unarmed!" he protested, throwing his arms out in frustration. "If you'd collected me like a normal fucking person, I might have had the chance to grab my sword." Everyone upon the deck had his place, and Theon felt distinctly out of place, as he stood where he was, watching the activity around him, rather like a kicked anthill. In many ways, he was grateful to be ignored, every man bent to his own task. However, he felt lost at the same time. Even so, it was like instinct when Theon crossed the deck to the mast, and began untying a length of rope that held the sail in place, allowing the heavy canvas to unfurl with a whoosh.

This was where he was meant to be at home; why did he feel so lost?
PM
^
ASHA GREYJOY
 Posted: May 9 2018, 07:41 PM
Quote
Ash is Offline
20 years old
IRON ISLANDS
Rodrik Greyjoy
House Greyjoy
Pyke
Captain


Someone needed to slap that smirk off Theon’s face, and for the briefest of moments Asha considered doing it herself. But he’d already been thrown around - quite literally - by Rogan, and there would be more fighting to come most like. Despite what her brother likely believed, the purpose of this intrusion on his evening was not to bully him. That sort of thing she would leave to Donel, perhaps even Rodrik. Asha was likely the only one of his siblings who was actually rooting for him to grow into something resembling less of a shit. ”Wrong,” she said sternly, stepping forward so that her face was only inches from his. “You only have to kill a man once.” There was no again. If you could be taken once, you could be killed once. A grown man raised on the Isles ought to know that.

The Black Wind’s captain had already turned to walk away as Theon hurled his pathetic attempt at a retort. Turning round, Asha crossed her arms over her chest, staring her brother down. ”No, you don’t have to prove anything to me. But you should want to prove it to yourself.” Though her tone was harsh, it was the closest thing to nice she’d said thus far. No more hiding behind mama’s skirts. Theon had once complained that their mother was the reason he’d not gotten to take to the seas as his older siblings had - this was the last time he’d be able to use that excuse. Either he cared to learn what he was capable of or he didn’t, but if the latter were the case then she could not protect him from what was to come.

Asha resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Theon’s quips and poor attempts at making excuses for himself. She’d already said what she needed to, now there was work to do. Ignoring his whining, the captain remained focused on her tasks. ”Loren, find my brother a sword. It would seem he’s come unprepared.”

---

It was only a few hours sail to the nearest coastal town on the mainland - with luck enough time for Theon to sober up and get his wits about him. Silently, her crew slipped into the night. They would keep the element of surprise on their side while possible, though it was inevitable that some sort of struggle would ensue. As a general rule Asha preferred her men to take only the lives necessary in order to return with their spoils. Tonight, however, was a special occasion. Moving to stand beside her brother, Asha clapped a hand on his back, a gesture that might have seemed encouraging if not for the fact that it was followed by gripping his shoulder.

”Take whatever you like for yourself, little brother - gold, women, I don’t care. But you’re not allowed back on my ship ‘til you’ve taken a man’s life.” A smirk played on her lips as she released him from her grasp, disembarking the ship and making her way into the small port village to her own ends.


This steaming pile of crap is the reason you should never start a reply then come back to it a month later. Whoops. But at least it moves us forward.
PM
^
1 User(s) are reading this topic (1 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
0 Members:

Topic Options
Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll


 


 

Latest Shouts In The Shoutbox -- View The Shoutbox · Rules Collapse  


ACTA Age of Heroes Break the Wheel: a Season 8 GOT AU >
Candyland Couture RPG-D


☣ SKINNED BY WALKERBAIT ☣
TOGGLE CBOX BY KISMET
CFS SCRIPT BY BLACK
TEMPLATES BY NICOLE
BANNER BY KARA THRACE
HOVER BANNER & SUBBOARD CSS BY NIALL HORAN
SITE CUSTOMIZATION, CANONS AND GRAPHICS BY SHELBS & OSWIN OF ATEAO

CHATTER
*MASS THREAD OPEN!*