eastbound | [voice/video] I put my trust in you, a stranger (un: whitewolf)

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[voice/video] I put my trust in you, a stranger (un: whitewolf)

1. Voice

[A man's deep voice, colored with some urgency.]

My name is Jon Snow. I need the aid of two or three strong fighters, outside the city -- now. One of the Beastmaster's creatures is on me. He isn't alone.

2. Video

[Later, it's a young man, looking hesitant and unsure of where to begin. A curl of his dark hair is falling into his bearded face, and there are fine vertical scars above and below his eyes, as if someone once tried to claw them out. He has just been shown to his rooms after a long, hard journey, and he looks like it.

When he speaks, it's with the same deep voice from earlier in the day, now earnest and weary. The more he speaks, the more sure of himself he sounds, until in the end, it may become clear that he's used to addressing groups of people.]

I am sorry for my hasty messages earlier. The creatures are dead -- they won't trouble you or any of the people of this city.

I'm Jon Snow. I come from the Merchant -- I've been riding in and out of these canyons for most of a fortnight. Never seen anything like Taravast, but it is good to be in numbers again.

I don't expect that it will mean anything to any of you, but I am from the North. One of the Seven Kingdoms, it was.

I need to meet with Wrath and Wen Qing, as soon as either of you can. I am in the Palace of the Doxe.

For the rest -- tell me what I can do here in the city. Tell me what I can do to help our cause.

Threaded | Flat

( Strange. How would someone who is new to the group know his name to the extent that he needs to meet with him? It's important enough that Wrath does not waste any time commenting on anything else. It's clear the man before him is a warrior, a soldier if he was able to defeat the beasts he spoke about before. Wrath had missed the post from earlier or he might have joined in the battle himself. )

I am Wrath.

Where in the palace are you?

Where did you say you hale from?

I'm coming to help you.

( A kindness: he speaks for rare compassion, that the man might not spare the heartbeats to read. )

The beasts' master returns with his creature?

I cannot say the country rings a bell, no.

May I ask what you want with my niece?

[So what if Wen Qing is not actually his niece, they've been pretending it here and a newcomer wouldn't know that.]

Which side of the city?

[ What
The
F-

What if this is some kind of trick? Magic exists here, after all. But... of all the family members, Jon would not be top of her list, so he'd be an odd choice for an enemy to mimic.

Odd, but successful. She's still not eager to even admit publicly she's from the Seven Kingdoms, though. Better to seem as irrelevant as possible, should a Lannister actually surprise her.

Wrath had shown her that such messages could be private, so she attempts this even while hiding her identity from Jon. ]

[written | private]

My apologies for the discretion, but I am no friend to making my business public, even amongst our allies.

If you wish to help, I plan to ask the palace kitchens for any old bread or spare cheese to bring to those unfortunate who survived the city's tragedy from the more downtrodden districts. I cannot carry much on my own, and it ought not to steal too much of your time..

[ She actually plans to get somebody else's assistance with that, but this is a good excuse to direct him somewhere and then see if it really is him. Was he hurt in the earlier scuffle? She wants to ask... ]

Did you get enough help? I can find you if you need more.

[ A meeting. One more odd thing after another, but considering there are few reasons for anyone to reach out to her, especially with a message, it is likely urgency is necessary. ]

I am Wen Qing. What is this nature of this meeting?

(Strong fighters? He arms himself with his armor, sword and spear, his fancy robes forgotten.)

I will be with you soon.

(He is a flash of gold, his spear thrown powerfully and deftly. Achilles retrieves the weapon after a direct hit, preparing himself to attack again with a graceful, practiced turn. He almost doesn't look human when he fights, evading blows with a swiftness most men would find impossible. But he is Aristos Achaion and no one can conquer him against his will.)

[The call for help was answered more emphatically than he had hoped or expected. So many came out that short work was made of the creatures — as short as could be made of such things, anyway. Fights may be long but death is so often quick, a last instant, the flash of a blade before it cuts into its target. It’s no different now. The beasts might be loathsome, but they die like anything else, in whatever way death comes to them.

When it’s over, a kind of stillness falls on the scene. He sheathes Longclaw; it will need to be cleaned.

Those who didn’t return to the city within moments of the end of the skirmish are still around, and he begins to introduce himself to them in turn. He offers his forearm to clasp in greeting, meaning to do the same: fellowship.]

I’m Jon Snow. You have my thanks for your aid.

Did you fight these creatures before?

Threaded | Flat

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