Post by BRONN on May 21, 2019 22:59:23 GMT
LORD BRONN
GENERAL INFO
NAME: Lord Bronn of Stokeworth
OTHER ALIASES: Bronn, Lord of Lofty Titles
AGE: forty-six
GENDER: male
BIRTH PLACE: The Crownlands
CURRENT LOCATION: King's Landing
OCCUPATION/TITLE: Lord of Stokeworth
ALLEGIANCE: Coin (but ostensibly The Crown)
FACE CLAIM: Jerome Flynn
THE STORY
"Bronn first." Tyrion said intently. Bronn sighed and replenished his goblet with wine, having resigned himself to playing the dwarf's drinking game. As much as he preferred to watch Tyrion burn himself on the whore's candle, he couldn't help but admit he was a bit intrigued. After all, what else was there to do? The three of them could very well be dead in the morning, though Bronn wasn't going to pass up this little lion's coin. "Your father beat you..." Tyrion said at last, with a gleam of confidence spreading across his face.
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The boy ran into the stable to find his mother screaming her head off whilst straddling his wailing brother, pelting him relentlessly with a leather belt.The boy shoved his mother off his bloodied brother who was now moaning with pain. She quickly recovered and grabbed a piece of kitchenware, swinging it at her moaning child but the boy got in the way. His nose shattered beneath the blow, sending him reeling to the floor."
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Bronn smirked and took a swig of wine. "But my mother hit harder. Laughs all around. Tyrion asked his next question. "You killed your first man before you were twelve. This time Bronn did not drink. "It was a woman." He shot back.
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"OI DROP IT YA LITTLE SHITE" the boar of a woman roared. But the boy stood his ground, iron dagger raised in front of him. The innkeeper who took him and his brother in after their mother died and their father fled had beaten them worse than they had.
Not anymore. The boy was nearly a man grown. His face was red with anger and his hands shook with raise. The mad wench let out a venomous shriek and charged forward. The boy roared and plunged the dagger deep into her bosom.
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Bronn's two companions each gave him an incredulous look. "She swung an axe at me!." He said in defense. There were times when killing a woman was...unavoidable. Next question. "You've been north of the Wall." Surprised, Bronn took a drink.
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He tripped over something dark and heavy along the path. Landing face-first into the hard pack, the man let out a pained grunt and quickly clambered to his feet. Stars twinkled in front of his vision as warm blood gushed from a fresh cut on his forehead. He stumbled around, unsheathing his sword and pointing it towards the edge of the treeline. He still felt the gaze of some unseen haunting eyes piercing the evening air. His own gaze turned to the object that had tripped him. When his vision focused, he saw the corpse of a large stag. The man's primal fear gave way to curiosity as soon as he began to examine the nature of the creature's demise. The stag was sprawled out in a way that it could not have managed on its own. Its entrails were thrown around the carrion with purpose, and there was a surprising lack of blood given the nature of the creature's wounds. Looking up from the corpse, the man discovered that the entire morbid display was encircled by a labyrinth of stones and unidentifiable animal remains branching out from the center in a macabre pattern. No footprints, man nor beast, other than those of his own were in the vicinity. Suddenly, a terrible coldness swept over his body and a fear stronger than anything he had ever felt began to permeate his being. The sounds of the forest had all but ceased and a shiver went up the man's spine. He slowly turned to the presence he felt behind him. He knew it was the same stalking gaze he had felt before as he ran through the forest, only now whatever it was had caught up with him.
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"What brought you up there?" Shae inquired. Bronn took another swig of wine, trying to forget. "Work."
THE WRITER
NAME: Ryan
TIME ZONE: GMT-5:00
AGE: 27
PRONOUNS: he|him
