- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- Writing Levels
- Give-No-Fucks
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Quite open to most general genres, like fantasy (usually more urban fantasy), science fiction, slice of life, etc.
"Alright, then," Shiki said, ignoring the... questionable interactions between Ridley, Booker, Desmond, and Frank, as he would lead the group towards the Docks with a small sigh, "I swear, that Tohsaka woman was a less of a hassle..." He mumbled to himself.
And he thought the Association was full of weird people. But he had merely forgotten how weird the people he could come across in these Murder Games could be.
@BarrenThin @Thuro Pendragon @Klutzy Ninja Kitty @Nater Taters @Hospes @Bomb
And he thought the Association was full of weird people. But he had merely forgotten how weird the people he could come across in these Murder Games could be.
@BarrenThin @Thuro Pendragon @Klutzy Ninja Kitty @Nater Taters @Hospes @Bomb
"Nicotine, huh?" Jon remarked, graciously nodding to Chloe, hearing Max's explanation of the chemicals within the cigarette. Gently sniffing the rolled up tobacco, the bastard winced, putting it up to his mouth and taking a whiff. At first, he hacked like he had before, but soon enough, the crow was swiftly puffing away at his first, real cigarette. Despite not being his preferred cup of tea to relieve stress, the watchman was relatively shocked at the texture of the burning plant, swearing he had read up something along the lines of that was common in the Free Cities of Essos. Granted, Jon wasn't as fond as reading as say that Lannister dwarf, but with being shunned by Lady Stark as a spawn of sin he often had a lot of time for himself. "Can't be as bad as ale, especially with the way the North makes it. Perhaps I should find a bottle for you, Chloe, and even Max as well. Although, both of you look to be the wine type..." Jon lightly chuckled, having a friendly tease and jest.
Although, such relaxed matters were soon displaced following Felix's return and the revelation of his sister underneath the false persona of "Mercy". Sitting by the sea, his legs dangling dangerously near the water, the swordsman leaned back, responding to the first observation made about Arya. It was that stranger, one whom was voted off, and one whom Jon did not recall have the pleasure of meeting (if he did, it was difficult to say, his mind was already so scrambled as it is). "I had not seen her in at least two years, maybe more. All I remember of her from what the ravens spoke of was the War of the Five Kings, the war my brother, the rightful King in the North, fought in." Jon explained, his gaze distant as he peered into the endless, dark blue.
"With no Targaryens, no dragons, my brother thought it was just to split from the Seven Kingdoms. For thousands of years, the namesake that I've been bastardized has ruled the North. Not with power, not with cruelty, but with justice, loyalty, and honor." Jon boasted, tightening his gaze as he laid Longclaw on his lap. "A'ye...and if I had to hazard a guess, she was caught in the thickest of the fighting, the Riverlands. Not a soldier, not a hired arm, a girl runnin' for her life." Jon began to cringe, growling to himself as he took a large whiff of the cigarette, hastily finishing the rolled up nicotine before flicking it into the waters. "And here I was, the brother whom she looked up to, nearly half the world away sittin' on a wall of ice I swore to guard with my life. My oath...I almost broke it for Robb, I don't know what I would of done if I had heard Arya was with him." the watchman clarified, his stoic, ash eyes closing, hearing Felix's words of spite and desire of vengeance for the horrendous acts of "Mercy".
Turning around slowly, looking at both Travis and Felix equally, Jon slowly began to step forward. Black, leather boots echoed off the wooden floorboards, his stance steady but foreboding, as if the sight of the group fighting among each other infuriated the Northerner. Raising up Longclaw in his right hand, he suddenly struck the Valyrian sword into the wood with ease between the two men, standing before them, a harsh, sharp yell escaping the young, admirable swordsman's lips.
"ENOUGH!!"
Drawing Longclaw and firmly sheathing it in his scabbard, Jon looked dead at Felix, fury in his eyes. "You may be an innocent, a'ye, I respect that...but that does not mean you are an ally. If anything, all you have done is sown dissent, and if I had to hazard a guess, you would turncoat all of us in a heartbeat if the Arch-Demon offered you thrice the size of what was your bank. Don't you understand that? You can cry about your Lannister gold all you want, but if this Arch-Demon wins, there will be no contracts, no gold, no banks to run too. Kings, peasants, and hired arms like you will be one and all the same, another vessel of that monster." Jon elaborated, his breathing growing heavy, having to spite being a mediator. "What do you know of her, huh? Did you grow up with in the halls of Winterfell? Did you give your farewells to one of the only Starks that you could actually call your own blood, despite what being a bastard meant? Did you have a blacksmith find the finest steel in Winterfell to forge her a Braavosi rapier? Huh?! Why the hells do you think she is like she is, she doesn't care for anything but justice now, do you understand?! Justice, at any cost!!!" Jon further pressed, having the brass to push himself forwards against the power-armored mercenary, virtually inches away from his visor.
"You know nothing, and if there is anything I know about my sister, even of what is left of her...she enjoys being mischievous." Jon remarked, backing away a bit, his tone relaxing, letting that sink in. "A'ye, I recalled distinctly having to drag her older sister Sansa away in tears because she had a Smallfolk stuff the other girl's pillow with dung. If she has powers of this Arch-Demon...god knows what sort of illusions she could conjure. Hells, she hasn't even met you, so why would she burn the money of a stranger? What does she hope to get out of that, huh?" the Snow elaborated, nodding sternly, facing Felix one more time and speaking softly but sternly, Jon's tone as cold as a Northerner's touch.
"She is playing with you, a'ye, like the Underfoot I know, and you are perhaps the most gullible bastard standing right here. In one swoop, she beat you without even raising her Needle, and made you look more petite than her." Jon theorized and elaborated, turning around to face Travis, reaching over to try and lower the older man's beam sword. "Ease down, no need to escalate this."
Arriving on the scene, Shiki would pull a comically large sweatdrop thing as he would observe the quarreling.
"... Well, what a cheery sight. Bad time to drop in?" He'd ask the group, "... I'm guessing it's also a bad time to ask about if you guys have found any... green trophies lying around?"
@Jeremi @Krieg @Josh M @TheBlueBurch @OrlandoBloomers @ShadowPrime @The Silver Paladin @DOCKS GROUP
"... Well, what a cheery sight. Bad time to drop in?" He'd ask the group, "... I'm guessing it's also a bad time to ask about if you guys have found any... green trophies lying around?"
@Jeremi @Krieg @Josh M @TheBlueBurch @OrlandoBloomers @ShadowPrime @The Silver Paladin @DOCKS GROUP
