godkiller
"We are the Fury"
Southern Hospitality
King's Landing sprawled ahead of him, hot and busy with people like some human anthill. The people were getting desperate. Hungry and frustrated from the war's] strangling squeeze on the city's food supply, many were up at dawn looking to buy whatever they could before it all ran out. And run out it did by midday, everything gone from the shops and parlors, bought by haves and stolen by have nots. More sweat and piss wafted up from the city streets than usual too, Roddy glowered, as the city's water supply teetered out. Showering, even for Roddy--an avowed knight--was becoming a luxury. He stunk, his wolfskin stunk, his junk stunk. Even the women--damn it all--ometimes stunk. But at least the city was still at peace. For now, Roddy thought. But the war was getting close. The North marched on King's Landing. Some even said something more came from the West. The men talked about Something worse than wolves, something pale and thin and ghastly, Roddy pondered.
"You King's Landing men are something beastly, man. It's cold in the North!", shouted someone from behind. Roddy snapped arond, "You get used it, Jerome!", he shouted back.
The ebon-skinned captain from the Black Lands looked resplendent in his scaled red armor . The sun's light seemed to play tricks on Roddy's eyes as Jerome walked down the hall towards him, the young knight's soft-fitted scales shifting and stirrng like candlelight, dancing on the walls like fireflies. The blacksmiths in the Burned Land really did good jobs with armor, Roddy thought. Indeed, things had been nice for all the men here in the South. Many had grown rich, fat and forgetful in their peacetime. Roddy even thought he had too.
Roddy's let himself entertain the thought for a minute. Jerome spat on, "Fighting the king's war, are we?"
"It looks to be that way. You'll no doubt be at the back".
Jerome smiled his bright prince's smile and leaned back on the bronze balcony railing of his house, "Yeah, Father says he wants me close enough to the fighting to slay some fools but far enough not to be slain. I guess that means at the very back". The Knight chortled, "But I have no doubt we'll win." The Knight turned his red steel and black braids to the towering Red Keep. "We know who the true king is and he sits his dumb arse on the throne. God will see our cause be true.
"Indeed he will. So I guess I'll see you on the battlefield. Tomorrow I head back", Roddy said.
The Southern laughed laughed, "Back? To the back of the force with me? Nice."
"No, back to the North", Roddy replied soberly.
King's Landing sprawled ahead of him, hot and busy with people like some human anthill. The people were getting desperate. Hungry and frustrated from the war's] strangling squeeze on the city's food supply, many were up at dawn looking to buy whatever they could before it all ran out. And run out it did by midday, everything gone from the shops and parlors, bought by haves and stolen by have nots. More sweat and piss wafted up from the city streets than usual too, Roddy glowered, as the city's water supply teetered out. Showering, even for Roddy--an avowed knight--was becoming a luxury. He stunk, his wolfskin stunk, his junk stunk. Even the women--damn it all--ometimes stunk. But at least the city was still at peace. For now, Roddy thought. But the war was getting close. The North marched on King's Landing. Some even said something more came from the West. The men talked about Something worse than wolves, something pale and thin and ghastly, Roddy pondered.
"You King's Landing men are something beastly, man. It's cold in the North!", shouted someone from behind. Roddy snapped arond, "You get used it, Jerome!", he shouted back.
The ebon-skinned captain from the Black Lands looked resplendent in his scaled red armor . The sun's light seemed to play tricks on Roddy's eyes as Jerome walked down the hall towards him, the young knight's soft-fitted scales shifting and stirrng like candlelight, dancing on the walls like fireflies. The blacksmiths in the Burned Land really did good jobs with armor, Roddy thought. Indeed, things had been nice for all the men here in the South. Many had grown rich, fat and forgetful in their peacetime. Roddy even thought he had too.
Roddy's let himself entertain the thought for a minute. Jerome spat on, "Fighting the king's war, are we?"
"It looks to be that way. You'll no doubt be at the back".
Jerome smiled his bright prince's smile and leaned back on the bronze balcony railing of his house, "Yeah, Father says he wants me close enough to the fighting to slay some fools but far enough not to be slain. I guess that means at the very back". The Knight chortled, "But I have no doubt we'll win." The Knight turned his red steel and black braids to the towering Red Keep. "We know who the true king is and he sits his dumb arse on the throne. God will see our cause be true.
"Indeed he will. So I guess I'll see you on the battlefield. Tomorrow I head back", Roddy said.
The Southern laughed laughed, "Back? To the back of the force with me? Nice."
"No, back to the North", Roddy replied soberly.
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