khaleesipls (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
khaleesipls) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2017-02-22 12:15 am
khaleesipls) wrote in maskormenacelogs2017-02-22 12:15 am
you're nobody, 'til somebody
WHO: Jorah Mormont, Rincewind the Wizzard, Viserys Targaryen
WHERE: A bar in Maurtia Falls
WHEN: February
WHAT: Conflict resolution.
WARNINGS: Violence, others pending.
So she turns to face him, before eight-thousand Unsullied and the Masters of Astapor, and she says -- ‘I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, of the blood of Old Valyria. Valyrian is my mother tongue.’
[ Ser Jorah Mormont laughs, wheezy with scotch, teeth bared impossibly white against the grizzle of his beard. He claps a hand broad and heavy over Rincewind’s shoulder to brace himself, and pushes to stand.
Blind drunk, he has to breathe deep to steady himself once he’s up. Fortunately, in a scuffed leather jacket and blue jeans, he blends right in, virtually indistinguishable from any other beaten down biker in this dive. ]
She ordered them to kill the Masters, [ he continues, absently, brow furrowed -- half with affection for the recollection, and half for the spinning walls. It’s dark in this bar, neon lights smearing bleary in his periphery, no matter how hard he squints. Some comedian’s chosen Down Under on the jukebox. Again.
It’s on its third rotation. ] It was a bloodbath. I have to piss.
WHERE: A bar in Maurtia Falls
WHEN: February
WHAT: Conflict resolution.
WARNINGS: Violence, others pending.
So she turns to face him, before eight-thousand Unsullied and the Masters of Astapor, and she says -- ‘I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, of the blood of Old Valyria. Valyrian is my mother tongue.’
[ Ser Jorah Mormont laughs, wheezy with scotch, teeth bared impossibly white against the grizzle of his beard. He claps a hand broad and heavy over Rincewind’s shoulder to brace himself, and pushes to stand.
Blind drunk, he has to breathe deep to steady himself once he’s up. Fortunately, in a scuffed leather jacket and blue jeans, he blends right in, virtually indistinguishable from any other beaten down biker in this dive. ]
She ordered them to kill the Masters, [ he continues, absently, brow furrowed -- half with affection for the recollection, and half for the spinning walls. It’s dark in this bar, neon lights smearing bleary in his periphery, no matter how hard he squints. Some comedian’s chosen Down Under on the jukebox. Again.
It’s on its third rotation. ] It was a bloodbath. I have to piss.