Post by ORYLON MARTELL on May 29, 2019 15:08:59 GMT
ORYLON ABYUN MARTELL
GENERAL INFO
NAME: Orylon Abyun Martell
OTHER ALIASES: Prince Orylon, Distant Royalty, The Light of Dorne, The Young Viper
AGE: Twenty-Nine
GENDER: Male
BIRTH PLACE: Sunspear, Dorne
CURRENT LOCATION: Westeros; Winterfell
OCCUPATION/TITLE: Prince of Dorne
ALLEGIANCE: Dorne/Targaryen Bloodline
FACE CLAIM: Ben Barnes
THE STORY
A distant cousin of the royal bloodline of House Martell, Orylon Martell posed as the eldest and nearest living relative of House Martell upon the uprising of the Sand Snakes against former Prince of Dorne & Lord of Sunspear, Doran Martell. Despite his distant claim, Orylon posed as a kind gesture and reminder of the two former Princes. For where Doran lacked cunning physical aggression, Orylon drew such traits from Oberyn, and for where Oberyn lacked tact and careful strategising and diplomatic prowess, Orylon drew and encompassed such traits from Doran — making him not only the next rightful heir to Dorne’s throne — but more again, the best choice for it.
As a result of his accession to power being rather abrupt and unorthodox — the new ruler and Prince of Dorne was left with a kingdom in shambles. A great many of the Dorneish were struggling as a result of the civil unrest and bloody murders which had occurred as a result of the Sand Snakes coo. With this being the case, Orylon’s first act as Prince had been to unite Dorne once more, assuring banner men and citizens of Dorne that the time of unrest had come to pass and that he would remedy the faults of those before him.
He did such things: starting with the provision of food, water and necessities for those in desperate need. Thereafter came the enforcement of laws and the reclamation of order in Dorne; ensuring that those abiding by the rules and governing systems imposed by the royal bloodline were rewarded, whilst those whom denounced such limitations were held accountable. With these small and yet majorly impactful plays, Orylon earned the respect of a great many banner men; seizing their loyalties and unyielding faith - even despite his age.
It had been a member of House Dayne whom reminded Orylon of the war waging beyond Dorne’s borders for the Iron Throne. Upon requesting the council of his banner men and those elected as advisors, Orylon pledged Dorne’s allegiances to Daenerys Targaryen; the Mother of Dragons and the rightful heir the the Iron Throne.
It had been when word reached Dorne of the White Walker threat that Prince Orylon proved his loyalties to the Targaryen bloodline - for he along with three-hundred of Dorne’s finest warriors boarded ships and travelled north to Winterfell; ready to aid in the battle against the dead.
a smart boy with a deadly manner
Prior to being granted the position of Prince of Dorne, Orylon had been well travelled and well-honed in his abilities as a fighter. From fighting alongside the some of Braavos's finest swordsman and training with them in his ventures to not only better his combat abilities -- but to understand the ways of the Braavosi and their unmatched respect for not only swordsmanship, but death.
During his time there, Orylon found himself beaten, bruised and bleeding more times that one could count. Despite his extensive training in Dorne from a young age -- none could prepare him for the likes of the Masters of Braavos. Despite this, perhaps more so as a result of his stubbornness rather than his eagerness to learn, Orylon remained vigilant and persistent. He would constantly return to the Masters who had beaten him the day before, inviting them once more to stand against him in a duel.
Again he would lose.
Again they would tell him of his failures as a swordsman. Of his failures as an opponent more than anything. They would tell him of his disrespect of his adversary and how, until he respected them, he would never truly be able to defeat them.
Such words remained ever present in his mind as he continued to push on with the same mission; facing them every day. Even when his fingers were broken and his face had come to be none more than a black, blue and purple canvas of bruises and welts - he pushed onward. Before finally, one day, he learned what the masters had meant. He no longer challenged them to fight - but instead - he observed. He watched as the Masters trained with one another; noting their swift manoeuvres and attention to footwork and careful placement of their blades.
And eventually, he adapted.
He trained himself from observing; meticulously studying every which detail of their formwork.
It had been then and only then that he had stepped to challenge a Master again. The Master had expected the same outcome as the last time, alas, Orylon had come to prove him wrong; disarming him and leaving him on the floor - at the mercy of his blade. And this time, it had been Orylon whom had reminded the Master to respect his adversary. To consider his own lesson and learn from it, the same way which he had.
The Masters had laughed and applauded him.
He had finally won their favour if nothing else.
As such, he continued to train with them - and this time - they had invited him to do so. He adapted his own style of combat; incorporating the Braavosi form with one of his own. He struck powerfully and swiftly - replicating the speed and agility of Oberyn Martell before him; The Red Viper. As such, he had been affectionately labelled The Young Viper. Alas, Orylon had not adopted the same fighting style as the aforementioned. A spear had not been his weapon of choice, but rather a sword accompanied with a dagger; making him lethal at mid range but unparalleled in close quarters as a result of his speed and prowess in his form.
His travels in Braavos had not only taught him of combat however, but rather, of his diplomatic abilities as well; honing in on the abilities which he had been graced with naturally. As a result of his respect not only for those of Braavos but also of life itself and the importance of such a thing - Orylon often found himself locked in conversations with a great many individuals from a vast array of places and walks of life. Such a thing had allowed him to learn the ways to navigate heated, light-hearted, political and near to any other conversational venture; making him an extraordinary diplomat.
However, as a result of his extensive training and study -- Orylon often catches himself out falling victim to his stubbornness and arrogance; with a great deal of his mentality falling back to the fact that as a result of his Braavosi experiences - he knows better. Hence, he often surrounds himself with sharp-tongued advisors and friends to remind him of his thickheadedness.
Eventually, his return to Dorne had been forced however when word of the Sand Snakes corrupt moves against his family reached him - and as such - his training and learning in Braavos had come to an end.
During his time there, Orylon found himself beaten, bruised and bleeding more times that one could count. Despite his extensive training in Dorne from a young age -- none could prepare him for the likes of the Masters of Braavos. Despite this, perhaps more so as a result of his stubbornness rather than his eagerness to learn, Orylon remained vigilant and persistent. He would constantly return to the Masters who had beaten him the day before, inviting them once more to stand against him in a duel.
Again he would lose.
Again they would tell him of his failures as a swordsman. Of his failures as an opponent more than anything. They would tell him of his disrespect of his adversary and how, until he respected them, he would never truly be able to defeat them.
Such words remained ever present in his mind as he continued to push on with the same mission; facing them every day. Even when his fingers were broken and his face had come to be none more than a black, blue and purple canvas of bruises and welts - he pushed onward. Before finally, one day, he learned what the masters had meant. He no longer challenged them to fight - but instead - he observed. He watched as the Masters trained with one another; noting their swift manoeuvres and attention to footwork and careful placement of their blades.
And eventually, he adapted.
He trained himself from observing; meticulously studying every which detail of their formwork.
It had been then and only then that he had stepped to challenge a Master again. The Master had expected the same outcome as the last time, alas, Orylon had come to prove him wrong; disarming him and leaving him on the floor - at the mercy of his blade. And this time, it had been Orylon whom had reminded the Master to respect his adversary. To consider his own lesson and learn from it, the same way which he had.
The Masters had laughed and applauded him.
He had finally won their favour if nothing else.
As such, he continued to train with them - and this time - they had invited him to do so. He adapted his own style of combat; incorporating the Braavosi form with one of his own. He struck powerfully and swiftly - replicating the speed and agility of Oberyn Martell before him; The Red Viper. As such, he had been affectionately labelled The Young Viper. Alas, Orylon had not adopted the same fighting style as the aforementioned. A spear had not been his weapon of choice, but rather a sword accompanied with a dagger; making him lethal at mid range but unparalleled in close quarters as a result of his speed and prowess in his form.
His travels in Braavos had not only taught him of combat however, but rather, of his diplomatic abilities as well; honing in on the abilities which he had been graced with naturally. As a result of his respect not only for those of Braavos but also of life itself and the importance of such a thing - Orylon often found himself locked in conversations with a great many individuals from a vast array of places and walks of life. Such a thing had allowed him to learn the ways to navigate heated, light-hearted, political and near to any other conversational venture; making him an extraordinary diplomat.
However, as a result of his extensive training and study -- Orylon often catches himself out falling victim to his stubbornness and arrogance; with a great deal of his mentality falling back to the fact that as a result of his Braavosi experiences - he knows better. Hence, he often surrounds himself with sharp-tongued advisors and friends to remind him of his thickheadedness.
Eventually, his return to Dorne had been forced however when word of the Sand Snakes corrupt moves against his family reached him - and as such - his training and learning in Braavos had come to an end.
THE WRITER
NAME: Reinhardt
TIME ZONE: EST
AGE: 25
PRONOUNS: He/Him
OTHER CHARACTERS: Nope (This fellow here is based on the new Prince of Dorne we see at the end of Season 8. Apparently he was a Martell, so I'm rolling with this and hopefully it's okay with you guys.
)coded by ulla
