{TIR TOCHAIR BLADE IMAGE}
[Just Past The Sea Of Serpents, Sunset Sea]
I awoke to the sounds of the ocean in my ears and the gentle rocking of a ship as the Hammock upon which I lay swayed side to side slowly.
"Fucking hell that was shitty sleep...." I spoke, my dreams filled with endless scenes of massive sea serpents smashing my ship to pieces before ripping me apart like a juice mutton chop.
Instinctively I reached to my pocket to grab my phone only to realize that I was completely naked and my beloved phone was nowhere to be found.
I stood up from the hammock and staggered a bit while catching my feet under me.
Once steady I walked over to my hanging clothes and gave them a quick inspection, still too damp to wear and quickly hardening from the sea salt.
"Wonder if there are other clothes around here." I muttered to myself before looking around the little cabin.
First thing I spotted was a long chest bolted to the floorboards at one end of the cabin beside some sacks of dry goods.
I knelt down and undid its latches to reveal what I assumed to be a sword wrapped in a burgundy cloth wrap, beside it a small amulet and scroll.
First I grabbed the scroll and broke the ridiculous yellow smiley face seal, Reading it brought a genuine smile to my face
[To Friend Aestorius, You will find yourself on a 'Drakkon' Family ship if everything went well and you didn't snap your neck in the fall.]
Once I finished reading the note it immolated into ash like flashpaper.
Next I grabbed the pendant and inspected it for a moment, It was a Gray Dragon with a golden jewel embedded in it's eye encircled by twelve stones reminiscent of black opal.
"Storage pendant? How the fuck does this shit work." I spoke to myself and fumbled with it for a moment until I pushed the Dragons eye.
The Pendant pulsed with energy and I could somehow feel what was inside of it.
I looked at the pendant and noticed a Gray Dragon with a golden jewel embedded in it's eye.
I quickly found it to have a set of fine clothes inside, the set was made of fine satin gray spiders silk with golden accents, And Two small scrolls as well.
Before long I was clad in the new clothes and was breaking the first of the scrolls, I knew it was the first one because the madman had actually marked them with numbers as the seals.
The first read as such ["Friend Aestorius, Store that cumbersome Dragon Egg in here, And don't forget what I told you! 200 Are Required! Wait Until You Are Powerful Enough!]
As soon as I read the last Word the entire scroll poofed into ashes just as the last.
Thinking it wise to heed his advice I walked to the hook upon which the cumbersome leather sack i'd carried was and unclasped its latches.
Just inside was exactly what I expected, A Big Scaly Gray Egg
I reached out and grasped it, The surface was rough and warm despite being in the drenched sack.
"Hefty one aren't you" I spoke to the egg which would eventually become my dragon before making it dissapear into the Pendant.
"Not bad at all, Thank you theda." I spoke aloud as if saying a prayer although I had no idea if he could hear me now.
Next I snapped the second scroll and quickly read it's contents.
[An ancient family like that of House Drakkon wouldn't be seen in the same light if they didn't have an equally ancient and legendary sword right? Well I give you A Legendary Blade which only a True Blooded Drakkon can wield. I think you'll be familiar with it's name hehehe.
P.s Be careful, She's Sharp]
The paper blazed as I began to carefully unwrap the Blade from it's silvery silk bindings.
Before long the sword's striking figure started to reveal itself.
"Tir Tochair...." I mumbled out in amazement at the distinctive sword, my favorite in the entire Witcher game of which I'd played so much of before it ended.
I reached down and grabbed the beautiful longsword, one hand on it's hilt and another on the gray Dragonskin leather scabbard.
The Sword hummed with power in my hands for a long moment before I unsheathed the blade.
*SHIIIIING!!!!!!!
A Crisp clear sound spread as the sword saw the open air, it's blade was a nearly glowing pale white with black engraved letters running along its length in which stated the blade's name in Aen Aelle Script
Tir Tochair was perfectly balanced and deceptively light for a longsword it's size, With every swing the nearly glowing pale white blade seemed a hairs breath away from slicing the air itself in twain.
"Thank you Theda....." I murmured to myself. . .
[Two Days Later]
The White Haired Young man stood at the ships starboard side with one palm raised and the grim look of determination in his Slitted Golden Eyes.
With gritted teeth and much force a spray of white hot fire spewed forth uncontrollably from his palm as if sputtering violently.
The air in front of him turned hot as the spitting flames radiated their blazing heat, the sea boiled and steamed wherever his magical flames touched....Gods only know what they'd do against flesh and bone.
Eventually his magic powers began to run low and the young man sat leaning against the main mast.
"Phew....I'm getting better.....Much better....Still Why The Hell Can Only Igni Work?" Aestorius Drakkon spoke while looking at his pale soft palm.
He used a tiny bit of magic which caused a fire only a few inches tall to form in his palm, it crackled and spat like the larger flame only this one was more utilitarian than a weapon.
"Fuck I'm Hungry." He spoke, Using his magic always made him ravenous and his supplies of dried apples were quickly running low but that did little to stop the Young man as he grabbed a fistful of dried apples and placed them in an iron cup which he'd found onboard.
Next he poured in water from a nearby skin before moving up both of his hands and releasing the tiny crackling fire.
Within moments the water in the cup was boiling, after some more cooking he let them cool before drinking the stewed apples, A culinary invention he'd thought of after getting tired of dry apples.
After his meal the young man began his blade practice, He wasn't skilled in the slightest but his speed and ferocity would have terrified any usual man as he grunted and grimaced.
The blade became a nearly hypnotic sight as it's white nearly glowing blade twirled and swung for hours as the sun dimmed overhead and sweat poured.
And such passed a few more days....
[Three Days Later]
The Young man sat in the small ship's cabin while rubbing his chin and cheeks with his hand and grumbling.
"Not Even A Measly Whisker....What The Fuck." He spoke to himself in disappointment that he'd not get to rock a massive Leonidas style beard as he slayed rapscallions and annoying bastards all over Westeros.
While the newly arrived young noble fussed over his own facial hair, more sinister things were afoot.
A seasoned crew of Ironborn reavers were not far away, Rowing their sleek wooden vessel, The Silverfin as it seamlessly cut through the waves like a knife through hot butter.
Unknowingly for both parties, Fate Herself had determined that their paths were on a collision course and nothing could stop what would soon ensue.
Before long the Ironborn Captain with particularly good vision called out to his brethren.
"THERE YA CUNTS! I FOUND OUR FIRST PRIZE!!!" The bearded man howled out.
Before long the forty other men gnashed their teeth and growled in excitement as they started boasting to each other about what kinds of atrocities they'd commit to whomever they met aboard.
As they approached the strangely built, their captain noticed the Gray dragon banner but did not recognize the house or city to which it belonged.
In this Captain's mind an obscure flag was a better target since they'd be the least likely to belong to a large house and have too many guards aboard that might cause the reavers too much trouble since they preferred to make ships 'disappear' after catching them by surprise.
As the Ironborn rowed closer and closer, all of them noticed something strange, there seemed to be no one aboard.....Usually there was some shouting from the crewmen as some tried to fend off their attacker, but now there was nothing.
Instead most of their eyes were drawn to The Drakkon Flag which waved in the wind overhead, The Fearsome gray dragon and it's golden eye caught their eye and most of them wanted to keep the banner for themselves to hang up in their homes.
"GET THOSE HOOKS ON WELL, WE HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD WITH THIS ONE BOYS!" Their captain spoke aloud and before long the grappling hooks began to make their distinctive thudding and scraping sound as both ships were pulled together.
Unlike most times, this boarding action was unusually slow and quiet due to there being no resistance which was a bit of a let down for the reavers.
Then movement caught the eyes of every single one of them, all froze for a moment upon spotting what they thought was a beautiful Valyrian woman.
Then they realized it was a handsome young man, not that they would mind.....Although the entrancing longsword at his hip had the mouth of every single Ironborn watering.....It was the most eye-catching blade any of them had ever seen and it was still in it's sheathe
Then the young man spoke to the Ironborn, his voice smooth and regal.
{"What are you greasy cunts doing to my ship, You're lucky I'm just recovering from training or I'd roast you all like the vermin you are. Fuck off before I turn your insides out and your outsides in ya fucking stinking animals."} The young man spoke harshly in a strange language with a hand on the entrancing swords hilt.
Whatever language he may have used was complete gibberish to the Ironborn although the Iron Islanders knew it was some sort of insult based on the horribly offensive tone.
It was at this moment that some of the Ironborn noticed the strange Golden eyes, like a vipers which unnerved more than one of the Reavers slightly
"I GET THE FIRST TURN BOYS! SINCE I SPOTTED THE SHIP FIRST! AND I'LL PAY THE IRON PRICE WITH WHOEVER OF YOU BASTARDS DARES TO CLAIM THAT SWORD!!!" The stinking Ironborn Captain roared just as the ships were finished being brought together before jumping overboard with a sickening smile on his face.
More and more Ironborn began to cross aboard, within moments there was the clear bright ring of metal as the young man drew his nearly glowing pale white blade.
*SHIIIIING!!!!!!!
Its dark Elven inscriptions settling an uneasy feeling in the stomachs of every Ironborn who laid eyes upon the blade, as if their very souls were menaced by the sword.
"Pretty blade, it'll look better on my hip when you're on your knees su..." The Ironborn Captain began to speak until the young man raised his palm
The captain raised an eyebrow and turned back to his men to crack a joke. "Look this pretty 'girl' thinks that will sto...." The captain managed to speak before a powerful stream of white hot spitting flame streamed over his flesh and armor.
Instantly flesh turned black before bursting in bloody sizzling gashes as the blinding white fire baptized the sea rat.
"WARLOCK!!!!!!" The Captains Eldest Son roared upon seeing the flames wash over his father.
In the same moment the brave young Ironborn Warrior hurled his axe at the young magic user in pure rage before any other Ironborn even managed to draw their weapons.
For a moment the captain's Son thought the axe would certainly hit until a bright white blur slapped the axe aside, The Captain's Son Blinked and saw the pale white blade pointed right at him as if beckoning for his head.
Instantly most of the Ironborn warriors pounced forward as the young warlock made his response with his pale white blade a fierce one.
The first man thrust his Lannister captured arming sword forward at the young mans face but found his blade sidestepped and a swift and exacting strike slicing half of his head of diagonally as a spray of blood and brain spattered on some of the rapidly approaching Ironborn.
The next two men were twin brothers who charged with their axes raised and shields braced.
But in a blur both of them had collapsed onto the ships deck completely limp
If any Ironborn had taken the time to look at their bodies they'd have seen both their shields and forearms were sliced in half and their bellies sliced completely open almost to the spine.
The next moments were violence incarnate as more and more Ironborn had massed towards the young man and his deadly blade.
With every passing breath, blood, limbs, guts and flesh flew in every direction as the Drakkon Noble exacted a hundredfold toll to every wound he received as he struck out ferociously like a cornered Tiger
Blade met flesh many times in this battle as the completely unarmored warlock became a whirlwind of carnage and death.
"GET HIM!!!!"
*CLINK *CLINK *SLICE!!!!
"AAAAHHHH!!!!"
"CIRCLE AROUND HIM QUICKLY!!!"
*CLINK *CLINK *CLINK *CLINK *SLICE!!!!
"AHHH!!! MY ARM!!! MY ARM!!!!!"
"FUCK THIS!"
"IM GETTING OUT OF HERE!"
"RUN!!!!"
"STOP!!! GET AWAY!!! GET AWAY YOU MONSTER!!!!!"
It wasn't long until only a few Ironborn were left standing across from the panting, blood-soaked and seemingly still enraged young warlock.
In their eyes the pretty little boytoy had now become a wraith come to deliver their deaths, The men trembled in fear of what they knew would soon come.
{"Tell Me What I Want To Know And I'll Make It Painless... "} The young man spoke aloud in a strange language which the Ironborn couldn't understand.
Then, The young man pointed at one of the Ironborn with his finger and spoke.
{"How far away are we from landfall?"} The young man asked but the Ironborn simply trembled at having the hand which had shot forth flames was pointed at him.
{"IF YOU DONT TELL ME I'LL SHOVE MY BLADE UP YOUR ASS!!!"} The young man roared out.
"P...Please...I Don't Understand!" The Man shouted out as sweat dripped down his face.
{"What the fuck do you mean you don't understa..."} The young man started speaking until he realized that his primary tongue didn't seem to be Westerosi, When he focused on it he realized it was something more akin to Nilfgaardian Or Welsh than English.
He took a moment and struggled to speak once again but this time in Common Tongue, Only his English came out with a noticeable accent.
"HO...OW FAR ARE WE FROM THE COAST." The Young Man spoke and instantly the Ironborn spat out his answer.
"Not Far Mi Lord Warlock, Jus' Four Leagues Ta Tha Eas..." He couldn't even finish his words before his head was separated from his shoulders by a shimmering white blade.
His fellow crewmembers tried to grab the weapons they had dropped to resist but soon all were butchered like pigs with an unbridled ferocity,
The young man finally breathed a sigh of relief when all the sea rats had finally breathed their last before cleaning his blade off on a nearby sail.
"Finally, Now I Can Rel..." *THUD
Aestorius spoke but before his words finished he had fainted from blood loss and dropped onto the deck completely unconscious
From his body numerous wounds slowly pooled with thick bright crimson blood as the waves slowly rocked him side to side. . . .
[Many Hours Later]
A sleepy House Serry guardsman sat in his watchtower, A usual duty for the more keen eyed of Southshield's Inhabitants.
He lazily gazed out at the sea as he usually did until A speck far to the southwest caught his eye.
"Did a ship run adrift?" He thought to himself since no ship had come from that direction as far as he could remember.
It was half an hour until his eyes could make out any details on the 'Ship' Which he realized were actually two bound together, One an Ironborn longship and the other half obscured behind it but certainly not a longship.
Most strikingly there seemed to be no one aboard, or if there was none of them were manning either ship since they seemed to just be floating freely upon the waves.
"Did they fall overboard?" The Watchtower Guard thought to himself before starting to write a letter for Lord Serry.
Two ships did not require him to light his watchtower but such a sight was certainly important enough to notify his lord.
Before long he had a parchment on his desk and began writing, his handwriting wasn't very good and he didn't know many words but more than enough to do this specific job.
[ONE M. SHIP, ONE IRN SHIP, NO MEN SEEN, FLOAETING PAST] He Finished writing before walking down the spiraled watchtower steps to where his young assistant was sleeping.
Before long the Guard found the young man asleep on a small hammock where they would take turns resting their eyes while the other was on watch.
"Will! Will! Wake your lazy bones up boy!" The Guard shouted and the young Will was violently awoken from his slumber
"Aw Has it been faive hours already?" The young man asked while rubbing his eyes but was met with a knock to the top of his head and had a scroll shoved into his hand.
"Message, go on and be quick about it fore I tan yer Hide!" The guard shouted and before long his assistant had run outside and had jumped on 'Bucket', An old nag assigned to the guards of this watchtower.
"Yipp! Go On Old Girl!" The Young man shouted and spurred the horse onwards.
Bucket started off at a brisk walk, The most her advanced age would allow.
*Clip *Clop *Clip *Clop *Clip *Clop *Clip *Clop *Clip *Clop
*Clip *Clop *Clip *Clop *Clip *Clop *Clip *Clop
. . .
[Many Hours Later]
The Joined ships had managed to slip past the shield islands despite three ships being sent out to intercept them.
The guards who'd been given the task thought finding two free floating ships would have been easy and did it in no hurry, a mistake as it turned out.
Instead of floating aimlessly, the two ships had been pushed as if by some magical force and made landfall on the northern bank at the Mouth Of The Mander, Lands administered by a simple landed knight.
Not long after a handful of fishermen from the nearby village which had come to find dinner, But instead they were greeted by the two ships which had run aground.
Both villagers approached curiously to see if they might be able to find some valuables, but one peek into the ships had them vomiting their lunch upon the beach.
The scene inside the ship was something entirely out of a nightmare
When the smell of Blood, Piss, Shit and Bile wafted over them, both villager found themselves unable to stomach being near that meat grinder any longer let alone looking for valuables
Before long they had run back to town.
*BANG *BANG *BANG
One of the men knocked loudly on the Manor door where their 'local lord' resided, A simple Landed Knight in service to The Tyrells.
Before long Ser Illian Norton and four of his men at arms were on their way to the beach under direction from the villagers.
"One of them Is definitely Ironborn, House Botleys Flag Seems Like...." Ser Norton spoke while gazing up at the Longships Flag.
"But what the hell is that....Some new blackfyre?" Ser Norton spoke while looking at the Gray Dragon Banner, It's Golden Eye seemingly staring down at him judgingly.
"Alright Lets See What's Inside." Ser Norton spoke as he finished approaching the beached ships, as he approached he'd smelled the blood and gore but nothing prepared him for the sight he'd witness.
"By the Mother...." He murmured to himself while looking at the carnage. Hands, Feet, Legs, Heads and Parts of Heads lay strewn haphazardly and the floor was covered in a thick half dried crust of blood.
Torsos lay a bit less haphazardly, seemingly dropping where they died but even then none were in good conditions, Ser Norton even spotted a few which had been sliced diagonally cleanly through as if by a Valyrian blade.
"Alright, Unload the bodies, I want everything assessed for my report to The Lord!" Ser Norton shouted, He would certainly pay the lord his due share but only after picking out any notable goodies for himself and his men as any true knight would however.
It wasn't long before the body of Aestorius was found, His beautifully designed longsword still upon his hip, He was grabbed by one of the men by the feet to be dragged off until his bodyheat alerted the man who touched him.
"What?" Ser Illian asked upon seeing his man drop the leg unexpectedly.
"This one is still warm.....Hold on Ser Norton...."The man at arms spoke before kneeling and holding his hand under the young man's nostrils to check for life.
It took a moment but he felt a gust of hot air upon his fingers.
"Yup, Still Alive Ser.....And dressed in some very....Very fine silks..." The man at arms spoke as he leaned down and looked at the finely damasked silk.
"What do we do with him?" The man at arms asked while scratching his head.
Ser Illian climbed aboard the ship for the first time before walking over to Aestorius who lay there limply.
He thought for a long moment before his eyes caught sight of the fine blade at Aestorius's waist.
"It has to be Valyrian Steel..." Ser Norton mumbled to himself after seeing Aestorius's white hair and the impossibly sharp slices which had torn so many Ironborn to pieces.
He almost couldn't help but reach for the blade but as soon as his hands wrapped around the hilt...
He jumped onto the ship and b walked over before bending down and reaching for the blade.
*Sssssss!!!
"AHH!!! FUCK!!!" The Knight shouted in pain and pulled back his hand which felt as if he'd touched molten metal before looking at his hand and saw that his skin had instantly bubbled into a blister.
'Witchcraft...' Ser Norton thought to himself but one of his men spoke aloud first.
"A sign from the seven most like." One of his men at arms spoke before saying a short prayer to the mother, Norton just gazed back at the blade and cussed under his breath that he couldn't even pick it up to try it out.
"Aye.....Aye..." The Knight spoke, he wasn't one to fight divine will or witchcraft so he simply let the blade be.
Not long after The Corpses were well counted and the Young Aestorius was being attended to by the Town Healer only a few feet away.
"Forty one Ironborn...Forty one....." One man at arms murmured while staring at the collapsed young white haired noble who seemed even younger than he was.
"No Way, His Knight's must've fallen overboard. No way a pretty boy like this can kill forty one Ironborn." Another of the men at arms spat, he'd been upset that he'd tried to swipe the amulet around the young noble's neck when no one was looking but had his hand burned and blistered just like Ser Norton.
"Is this Arthur Dayne's Bastard?" Ser Norton murmured to himself before glancing over to the still sleeping white haired young man who was getting his wounds washed with wine and bandaged by the town healer right there on the ship.
The healer didn't seem too happy to be treating the young man but for entirely different reasons.
"He should be dead you know.....no one can take this many wounds and still breathe." The Old healer grumbled to himself as if upset to see something so strange.-
Before long all wounds were bandaged and cleaned before the young man was carried away on a wooden stretcher towards the knight's manor while his steward had arrived on the beach and began to tally all the supplies and valuables minus any five finger discounts which the men at arms took within reason. . . .
[End Ch]
[4149 Words]