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Post by Morys Martell on Apr 21, 2014 1:56:00 GMT -5
Tiberys sat at the small desk in his sparely decorated room, fingers lightly rapping against the wooden surface as his eye glanced between the small messanging paper that lay before him, scribbles of a few words made on the paper, and the round shield, the design upon it not helping to take his mind off of things as he leaned against the back of his chair. Dark times had come upon the kingdom, darker times then Tiberys thought possible, especially after the war he'd fought, bleed, and lost an eye for had come to an end such a short time before. Now the targaryans had a power vacuum to fill, someone needed to get the crown and take power soon, or the slowly building chaos within king's landing would be nothing compared to when the other houses tried to fill the void themselves, most likely with a sword then any sort of parlay.
The realm needed a ruler, only now, the realm seemed to have two rulers for now. Aegon Targaryen, the next in line, and Maekar Targaryen, the self-proclaimed king. Tiberys pondered for a moment, a notion that had been eating at him ever since the king had been found dead and chamberpot had really started to spill. Who would people support more? Which of them should be supported more? Tiberys had fought under Maekar in the worst of the war, and had a good idea that Maekar was a fine man to be respected, maybe even a bit admired should Tiberys admit it himself. But Aegon was the king by right, and by recognition it seemed, and the thought of having to face either of them if no peaceful resolution was found chilled him to the bone. King's Landing would become center stage for another battle, if either side didn't back down, and no matter who won, the people of the city would be the ones to bear the price, himself included.
Rumor had circulated that many people had begun to leave the city, perhaps coming to the same conclusion he did, all of which left a third option available to consider. He could leave, set sail on his ship back to the claw isle, or mayhaps even sail south to sharp point for a while. He certainly was on much better terms with Bar Emmon then he was with his own father, but that still assumed that he'd even be able to leave at all, or if anything would come about from this conflict within the targaryen bloodline.
Tiberys had been sitting at his desk for the better part of the evening, and still he could not decide his next course of action. Honor dictated he should stay, and support his king no matter what. But honor be damned that the aspect of facing down a targaryen, their loyalist faction, and worse of all, the dragons they rode, didn't scare him a little bit. Fire had always made him somewhat uneasy, and the thought of dying by fire was one he didn't want to ponder. Then there was his family, what would he tell them? What should he tell them? Aside from getting their fleets ready and preparing for the worst, he couldn't think of much else that could be said.
Tiberys stopped his rapping as he brought a hand up to his face, resting it over the left side of his face and over the leather band that kept his hollow eye socket from the world to see. Whatever he was prepared to do, he knew that he'd better well be prepared to live with it the rest of his life. A moment later he chuckled as he grasped the pen from it's well, scribbling at the bottom of the list he'd written before blowing the ink dry. "Join the Night's Watch" now written below the other scribbles, "Retreat to Claw Isle" and "Retreat to Sharp Point" now had lines pointing to the bottom as well, with the staying options sporting their own lines that forked, with the simple words life or death written for both.
Tiberys stared a moment before he rolled the paper and brought it up to the candle, holding it upright before dropping it on the desk and watching it burn to light ash.
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Post by Morys Martell on Jun 2, 2014 2:16:53 GMT -5
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Tiberys sat at the small desk of his sparsely decorated room as it would not stop spinning at the moment. His arms rested by their elbows on the table, fingers running through his hair as they clutched onto his currently aching skull. Tiberys clenched his teeth as his one eye closed tightly, feeling like someone were pounding a warhammer upon him like a drum. Ever since King Maekar had ascended to the throne by combat, tiberys had been under a lot more stress of working to keep things in king's landing's city guard in order, finding that with the need to increase forces, he'd had to work twice as hard training new recruits and watching the newly graduated recruits weren't slacking off their duties.
This led to stress, which led to anxiety, and in tiberys's case, led to extremely painful migraines to come on more so then usual from his wound. His knuckles were turning white as he waited to ride out his latest attack, eye watering from the pain as he felt it slowly beginning to subside. His ears rang, his vision swam, and tiberys slowly backed his hands off his head as the migraine faded slowly into being just a simple headache after a minute or two. He was breathing heavily and wiped the sweat from his brow as he stood from his seat, hands shaking as he rested them on the table.
Tiberys knew what he'd need to get through this, much as he hated the thought. He'd need to see the maester, and get his usual treatments for when his pain was especially bad. "Gods be damned for this, old and new..." he muttered to himself as he walked slowly towards the door, waiting for his vision to catch up with the rest of him as he reached it, leaving his office to see the maester.
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Post by Vhagar on Jun 2, 2014 4:10:21 GMT -5
The Grand Maester's chambers weren't far ahead. As ever, they were decorated with illuminations drawn by the old man, who still had a steady hand in such matters though he usually got his assistants to mix the paints for him. He beamed at Tiberys in welcome.
"Come sit down," he cried in welcome. "How may I be of assistance?"
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Post by Morys Martell on Jun 2, 2014 17:24:08 GMT -5
Tiberys attempted a smile as he nodded to the grand maester, "Thank you, grand maester." he said, though his voice were a bit strained, as was the smile. Tiberys walked to the seat offered, lowering himself cautiously as he leaned forward a bit, hands coming together as they interlocked in front of him, tapping randomly a tune he'd heard.
"I...I had another attack again." Tiberys said, sounding almost embarrassed to say so, like a school child confessing to a parent, "Second one this week, and its taking longer to subside then normal..." he said as he let out a sigh, looking to the maester with a resigned look upon him, knowing what he would need to ask next.
"I think I'll need some sweetsleep to help me get through the night. I am sorry to trouble you about this, I know there must be other pressing matters then my own." he said, wiping a small shine of sweat away with his arm. It had been like this ever since he'd healed from losing his eye. The arrow had done something, made his head ache, and ache badly on occasion. Much as he hated to rely on medicine to treat him, he didn't have much choice in the matter.
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Post by Vhagar on Jun 2, 2014 17:47:19 GMT -5
"Sweetsleep is easy," Grand Maester Benedict replied. "i always keep some in stock. But you must be sure not to use more than a pinch each night you use it, and never take it for weeks at a time. Use it as sparingly as you can, no more than two or three nights in one week, and only if you must. it thins the blood, my friend."
He beckoned to his assistant who hurried off.
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Post by Morys Martell on Jun 2, 2014 19:09:45 GMT -5
"Thank you, Grand Maester..." Tiberys said as he sat in silence a while, tapping his fingers lightly lightly as he thought to himself. After a long pause, he spoke again, a frown etched on his face. "Grand Maester, might I bother you with a few more questions...in confidence?" he asked as his eye looked up to the maester, curious to see what he how he might react.
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Post by Vhagar on Jun 2, 2014 19:58:51 GMT -5
"Of course you may. That is why I am here," the Grand Maester answered. "You may count on me. Shall I send away my assistants?"
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Post by Morys Martell on Jun 2, 2014 20:32:46 GMT -5
"That might be ideal..." Tiberys said as he took a moment to collect his thoughts, still aware of the dull pain inside of his skull, "This sweetsleep works through drinking it, as I know." he said as he began, leaning back into his seat, looking the maester in the eyes, "But what should happen if one spills it upon themselves? Would it take effect, and if so, how strongly? Might one...might one..." He asked before he stopped himself, closing his eye as he brought a hand up to his forehead, massaging it lightly as he stopped himself.
"I must sound absolutely daft..." he commented aloud as he leaned back into his seat, opening his eye again to look at the maester once more. "Let me ask you something else, more sensible to start with. How much do you know, of dornish warfare?" he asked, the look in his eyes showing a tiredness of fatigue, and something more. The look on his face however showed he was deathly serious, "Have you ever treated someone who fought against dornishmen?"
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Post by Vhagar on Jun 3, 2014 18:29:12 GMT -5
"I cannot recommend it. Sweetsleep works by drinking only. Perhaps lavender oil, soaked in a cloth, woudl soothe your head," Grand Maester Benedict mused, while he mulled over the question.
"I know little of Dorne, save that they fight chiefly by stealth. But war is war. Dornishmen favour arrows and spears, I'm told. We know how to deal with those. Though poison, of course, is another matter."
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Post by Morys Martell on Jun 3, 2014 21:22:39 GMT -5
"Aye. Arrows and Spears. Range and Reach. Quite smart against swords when you lack proper metal for weapons..." tiberys commented as he nodded to Benedict, his mind off a bit as he continued. "When I went to fight in dorne, I say many soliders fall to poisons from dornish weapons...and at the time, I felt them dishonorable for it...but," he said as he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair to push it back.
"I am not the same man I was back then. I'm getting older, slower, and ive lost more assets then gained with age..." he said as he broughttapped the side of his head where his eyepatch hung over. "A young man maanged to get the best of me today, did you know that? He wielded an axe, andhe mmanaged to pull me down by my shield..." he said as he shoke his head in disbelief, "I'd never even seen it coming. If it'd had been an enemy to do that...I'd be dead."
The words left his lips like a weight as he told benedict what had been on his mind. "So thst got me thinking...what if that's does happen in battle? If or when the enemy should come to kings landing and I should need to fight for king maekar. If I am not as spry and strong, I think it be t ok me for me to find some other means of victory."
"A poison on my blade, something that will require but a touch and ensure an enemies death, is what I seek. So that if I should fall to an enemy in battle, I can make sure that at the least, I may take my opponent with me, and rid him from the battlefield before he can even raise a blade at my king."
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Post by Vhagar on Jun 4, 2014 13:10:39 GMT -5
"Poison is a possibility, but you'll need to prepare for the accusations should you be discovered," Grand Maester Benedict warned. "The dishonour, as you say. They say poison is the weapon of cowards, women and eunuchs. I fear it would give you many problems, though it might offer a surer victory. Do you truly want that, my friend? You might be shunned. We are not in Dorne."
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Post by Morys Martell on Jun 4, 2014 15:45:08 GMT -5
"No we aren't, are we?" tiberys said with a nod, speaking rhetorically as he sat in silence a while. "Sometimes I feel like I never left that sandy hell...The things I've done there...they call back to me, with these pains." he said as he looked downcast a bit.
"It makes one wonder, pondering things, if one can claim they had any honor left, after going into such a war? Perhaps I was never as honorable or just as I had thought?" he looked to benedict, his eye bloodshot a bit, though burning with a determination in it. His words were his own, but they sounded painfully familiar. Memories of his father, displeased by his desire to become a knight, mocking the honor and chivalry tiberys held firm to.
But he was not his father, he didn't believe in keeping ones head low and serving whoever wielded the biggest sword. Or that it was better to be rich, then to have an ideal to live for. Tiberys had something he believed in, and that something was in his king. The one who'd won his place to rule in combat for all to see, who had proven he had the strength to take the reigns and rule this land well.
"I believe that should my honor be damned, in the service of someone whose honor is greater then mine, that it may not be such a bad thing...that if I am to be dishonored and shunned, and my name cursed as a coward, that I would rather face dishonor in my duty to my king, then receive high honors in failing him." His tone of voice was steel hard as he spoke, and it was clear to see that he truly did mean what he said.
"I beseech you, benedict. Help me get the means to serve king maeker well in battle. Should I be caught, I will not reveal how I came about my poison. I will tell how It was me and me alone who commited this offense...and I will bear the price alone."
((Persuasion - Novice))
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Post by Vhagar on Jun 4, 2014 15:59:22 GMT -5
"As you wish." The Grand Maester sighed. "But be sure to use it carefully and sparingly."
He fetched a small flask, heaving up his bulk from the chair. "Hide it carefully and be sure not to let it contaminate anything else," he warned.
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Post by Morys Martell on Jun 5, 2014 3:28:26 GMT -5
Tiberys stood from his seat as he slowly took the flask with great care, looking it over as he held it in his hand. He opened a pouch on his belt, slipping the flask into it gently. He looked to benedict, giving a bow to the elder maester as he held his head somewhat low. "Thank you for this, Maester Benedict. I am in your debt, perhaps more then I'll be able to repay." he said as he rose from his bow.
Tiberys waited for his sweet sleep to arrive once more, glad to receive it as the dull pain in his head continued to buzz lowly within him. He gave the maester another bow, saying a goodbye as he ventured from the maesters office and back to his own quarters. As he walked down the hall, his face seemed frozen in a frown, walking with an uncertain air as he pondered what he'd just done, and if he'd made the right choice.
He'd made the right choice, he reasoned to himself against the doubt. He'd made the best choice of all, to place something before himself, and to do whatever it took to protect that something. Maekar was a king who'd won his right to rule, not been granted it. He was a king who would rule best of all, and it was the job of the forces in kings landing to ensure he was safe. He remembered his lessons of history, how easy it was for assassins to slip into the capital, how not just one but two targaryens had fallen to such tricks.
Tiberys clenched his hands as he walked towards the chambers. Even if it cost him his honor and his soul, it was worth it to make sure that perhaps maybe, this targaryen ruler wouldn't be killed so easily.
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all alone and also really bored 
Hopefully going to kickstart the festival too