Spawn and Storm (An ASOIAF/Darkspawn Quest)

You are neither calm nor adjusted to the recent month and the events which followed, you'd spent some time saying goodbye. Some were calmer than others and many wished to run from your very side. There was not a single person who was neutral on the matter, then the day had come.

Dunk and Gaerys approached you, and either of them prepared to take you to see the wonders of the world. To begin a life on the road and never look back. You'd made your choice, and armed yourself with castle-forged steel. You'd only have leathers to protect you, not the best but suitable enough.

[ Gained: Castle-Forged Longsword ]

You had walked the streets with Dunk and the two of you were just finishing up. You were ready to go about your time and leave your home. Truly, it never felt as sad until this very moment.

Of course, something shook that to your very core.

You'd been in a tavern, watching as Asha and Cregan drank to their content and made off to gamble with supposed ill-gotten coin.

It had been you and Dorea discussing the events, to be at ease as the two of you were.

"These moments are they going to get lesser? Relaxing and being warm with our friends. I don't want this to end." She's sweet, she would miss the red keep. While it may not have been as warm and welcoming, she'd had a home there, people that knew her.

"Don't say that. We're here, your friends and what's better than that?" You smile nudging her before she's leaning against you and the two of you enjoy the racous tavern before the door slams open.

The tavern goers are silent, the gentle strums of lutes and drums are like the plains of the north. Only a howl would have been heard.

You see the billowing cloak of the kingsguard. He steps in, eyes only for you and you recognize them. Mandon, he's stomping towards you and soon as he does, he's kneeling to you.

"Prince Tommen of the Seven Kingdoms, son of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister. From this day, until the end of my days. I do by swear, by the gods, new and old, that I shall be your sword. I am your shield, should a threat to your life come. I hope I shall take that blow for you, my prince. From this day, I am your sword to command and to wield!"

It is not soft either, it is loud. Those who are here today are bound to go about their tales. This is not unprecedented. The mysteries of Arthur Dayne, Gerold Hightower, and Oswell Whent are told to this day. Why were they not there to defend Aerys to the last?

"Rise, Ser Mandon, it is an honour to have you with us this day."

Whether ceremonial or not, Mandon takes his place to your right and stands there the entire time. Not once does he shirk and you are grateful for him.

The night continues and so would the tales into the day, but the city would soon forget their Prince of Nowhere.

...

You are about a day into the ride out of the city, your band of merry travellers didn't even make it that far before the jokes flew like a fool graced a banquet hall. Even you had to tune your friends out at their barbs, focusing on the rode as much as Dunk was.

Aye, you, the prince were leading the van as the Dayne and Victarion made up the rear. The precious cargo you were called, though you could do without it seeming a bit cheap.

"Toooom!" There they were, roaring your name to the skies as you trade a look back to see Asha's eyes mischievously winking back at you. What an arse she was.

"Yes, my daughter of the sea, however could I be of help to you?" You poke back as the rest of your chuckle deeply, riding softly behind you.

You don't think about the quiet pause she takes. Or how your friends whisper behind your back in a sly moment that your mind continues to wander and think on the journey ahead of you.

"We made a song, a tribute to our prince of Westeros! Would you like to hear the song that many would know for the next years?!" She waits not, your confirmation not even needed as you hear her melodic voice belt out a ringer....

"And who are you, the proud prince said
That he must bow so low
Only a prince of a different coat
That's all the truth he knew
A coat of gold, a coat of red
A Prince still has swords!
And his were long and sharp your grace
as long and sharp as yours!"

You stare ahead, even as they laugh and truly enjoy themselves. You don't mind, they enjoy themselves and they are merry. At the very least, the stink of King's Landing leaves you well. A day's ride left and easy as it was, it's not until Dunk yells for a halt.

It's been a day's ride and you see signs of horror, a village burns across the way. Separated by sea, you know it still functions within the crownlands.

You look to your friends, their laughter has ceased and their eyes have steeled. As has their will, you may only be six name-days old but this is injustice.

"Duncan, is that not the banner of the bandit?" At Mandon's direction, you each look ahead. Noticing the black field upon it sat a lion spewing green flames.

You'd only narrowed your eyes further, you'd heard of it all. The rumours, the means which he tore through the west and lords knelt to him as if he were a conqueror come again for their lands.

Did he wish to raid lands this far away from his coveted throne of the rock? You hear the song of blood call to you, the calls of wild hooves beating against the sand.

Battle calls for this. Yet you are not one to lead with such fearlessness, Duncan unsheathed his sword before you could even tell him more.

He roars to the sky and they follow him. Asha, Victarion, Cregan and his loyal guard, you'd never known the man but from what you knew. His last name was Cassel.

They rode into the thick of battle as you remained with Mandon and the rest, they looked to you.

....

"I wish to see how many fight, how many are left, there are signs there and no man would see his home torn apart in such a fashion." You spur the horse forward and it leaps into action as you stretch yourself across the hill. Mandon behind you as you watch the ensuing battle.

Villagers, roughspun tunics and little arms defend their home with dead bodies strewn about like it were a gift meant for them. They fight with steel in their hearts and little else left, you know it true before Mandon.

"They mean to die on that field, they do not care about winning. About surviving for their friends or family, to them, they have lost everything." You are saddened by the aspect, to lose one's family, to see it torn apart by bandits is no small thing.

"What is it you wish to do?" Mandon prods, he wishes to always follow you and if he were to be ordered to ride away. Such a fate would be left to your friends, but never.

You mean to fight.

You feel your blood thrum. The song beats and the hooves crash against the dirt, digging and only growing louder as you hiss to the sky and you feel the song burst outwards.

It's a shock to you before you see it. Your friends are battling with lightning-imbued swords and dirks, you'd seen how it was going before.

The battle was anything but even. The bloody host as they were called had only brought ten men to the fight, and yet they'd burnt a village to the ground. Ten against five, before it evens out with your band of heathens. Yet, still, normal steel seemed to do little, if anything, it seemed not to hinder them.

Five villagers remained, emboldened by the likes of these noble men joining, battling against this scourge. You unsheathed your unblooded blade, this was to be your moment. Your crowning battle, to bloody a sword as some would say.

You breathed deeply. Mandon only gave his hum of approval before you rode in, nothing mattered but the survival and protection of these villagers.

...

The beat of hooves, the clang and the songs of steel had only been enough as you rode in, seeing the bloody men. Singed and shocked by your powers, your friends continued to battle and neither of them was injured.

Good. You ride in swiftly and as you do, one head rolls as your sword gleam with the blood of these bandits. You notice how they look to you, their heads tilt and it is not only them. Asha too looks worried, for you.

It is a deathly screech as they rush to you, daring to pass the wall of swords that were your party. You roared to them as well, bearing the Shield of Fyre as these bloody men were being cut down. You couldn't help it, blood called to blood and you loved the battle, this rush of adrenaline, reminded you of older, simpler times.

You do battle with another, this one stronger and wiser as it picks, it duels. A nameless soldier that tries his damndest to bring you to the beyond, to death and to where spirits roam.

"TO ARMS! TODAY IS NOT THE DAY TO DIE! WE FIGHT TO THE LAST MAN, TO THE DEATH OF THESE BLOODY MEN!" It is Duncan, he roars and he emboldens you further that you do not even hear anything else but his words.

They beat in your head and it's a duel, a proper thirsty and calling for blood duel that has you realise, you are winning. The clangs and strikes only do so much that you find his swings wild and unpredictable.

"FOR GEROLD!" The screech echoes past another's lips, they call for their leader and they are stronger, their strikes are true and the one thing that protects you is this shield.

Trained as you were, this fight was taking plenty out of you as quick as it happened, you were brought to the floor. Sword at throat before the bloody man is done in, a sword through the back as Asha stands over you.

"No one is to kill you, Ogre. Stand," She grips your hand and you are pulled forward, each of these bodies are down. They are dead, yet only two remain.

They linger at the village's houses, each looking over the body of their comrades. Finally, though, they look to you and Asha, it is lost on no one. They stare, for an unhealthy amount of time before one of them takes out a blade...

He slices his comrade's neck and suckles at the blood. Drinking heavily and deeply as slowly, his body cracks, black marks sprout from his body and horns protrude from his forehead.

"What in the seven hells is this?" You must believe that everyone who has seen this knows, but this is...

Unnatural. Yet it is Asha who grips your hand and she looks to you, fearfully, you had not seen one ever.

That is...

"RAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" It stampedes for you and Asha, a beast of the past. What dark magic was this....


"Ogre." Is the word you whisper as it barrels towards you and finally, you grasp your blade tight and you know what this calls for.

[] - Use it all. Every last drop of your power as the means to kill this beast, you don't trust anyone else to do as well...
[] - Conserve your energy, you are going to join forces with everyone, put down this beast.

.....

Sword and Shield - Learned >> Impressive (+15 to combat rolls)
Riding - N/A >>> Learned (+5 to riding and combat rolls)

Songs About You:

Tears of Nowhere - By Asha Greyjoy and the Heathen Six

....

A/N: So during the rolls session, a lot of things went down. Now, you guys face an Ogre, due to the rolls for them being insanely high that you face a tanking beast and you can team up, or you can truly do some damage and earn yourself some things here and there.

Good Luck. Remember, there are Five Villagers left as well, along with your current band.

You push out of the way and dare not to listen to the cries of indignation. It matters not, the beast meant to ram into you and take no prisoners, there were no negotiations.

You cry a fearsome roar before it's on you, a swing that dares to take your head off and you weave out of the way. It laughs as your steel tears into its flesh and only bares its teeth sharper and teaming with mist.

Shit.

"Tommen!" The cries called for your safety, how lovely, you'd had supporters but so little. You'd mean to have this as a pelt, a fur like the Lords of the North, and adorn it proudly, like the Boltons of old with their flayed skin.

You watch as its eyes burn a brilliant white and it roars to you, uncaring of your strength and notions of superiority as you are pushed off your feet and left on your back.

You cough, it's not even punched you and it felt as if a dragon's strength had torn into your leather. This was no mere Ogre, strengthed by something, those eyes weren't normal.

"Don't be a fool, Ogre! You can't mean to fight this!" Asha cries to you, only you spare her a look and this time, you wink.

It calls to you. The songs of the Durrandons and the gods of wind. You know this well and you find it comforting if this were to be the way your way of reaching the heavens.

To the end, you'd go.

You rush to your feet, you raise the glistening steel high, coated in the blood of an Ogre and wielded by its kin. It would find a home in its heart.

You rushed one another and blow for blow, the Ogre met you and the valyrian shield sang for its cries of creaking as the Ogre did not let a single blow fail, it'd meant to maim or tear you limb from limb.

Ducking and weaving as you were song for song, and the whisper of wind grazing your jaw. You'd managed, cuts and blood dripped from the beast of ages.

You'd had it...

THIS-

A punch. A single one that sent you flying through the air as you landed in the dirt leagues away from the beast as it'd made to laugh at your display.

It mocked you. As if you dared to raise yourself and defeat it, yet, was it not a mere corrupted human? A defilement of all which held together the lands forged by fire?

"It is not over for you, my Ogre. Stand." She sings to you again, yet it sounds not a lilt like her and it is here you meet her eyes.

They are a whistling sea blue, not a colour or pupil in sight but the sea's call of blue. How she smiles at you and steps toward you, not at all caring for the blood pouring from your lips.

Putrid. It tasted of rotten cow and sheep's dung. Was this the ichor of ogres or was something wrong with you?

"That should not be possible, you know that as much as I." You whisper it, even though she seems to smile sadly as her head shook.

"Things are changing, you have me. Others are not so lucky, they do matter not. You know what must be done, to end this, my Prince."

You see them, the gleaming sword and the shield of fyre. You grasp them tight, this will be your death or it will be your achievement to sing throughout the land.

"To the end." You growl and you feel it again, the drips of power pooled from you.

It tore at you, the leash of it snapped and you'd know that this was going to be a tiresome feat, one that called for you to do your best.

You waved it on and its head tilted, its teeth bared again and its roar would have shaken the mountains of Dorne itself. Your head bows, staring into the blood-stained grass and twirling your blade forward.

The clash echoes throughout, nothing dared to be heard now as it came about, the song cried and the skies shook.

It responded to you, the rumbling thunder and the stormy skies cracked...

Booms echoed and the thunder rained as it surrounded the battle-torn village. All people could do was stare at the skies in wonder as you two continued the song.

Its lumbering form tried, dare as it might, you guessed it thought to have a chance. To tear and end you in this very moment.

The skies tore and the sun beamed down as a great beam of blue lightning struck the Ogre and it cried. You watch it, a gleeful smile tearing your lips in two, and through blood-stained teeth, you can only laugh.

"Brought down by a mere lesser, weren't you?" You could only spit toward the Ogre, raising your sword high.

It couldn't do anything, it waited for death. To be sent back to... the thought chilled you terribly as your eyes rest on the abomination.

"Now it ends." You whispered and its head fell from its body, blood gushed from its body and those burning whites dimmed to a blackless void.

You smirk and laugh a humourless smile. You'd seen too much, finally, your arm ached and your sword parts from your hand as Asha catches your limp body...

"Not yet, what is to be done with them and this body? Dunk is shocked, Mandon looks like he's seen the long night. You've done the unthinkable, Tommen, but that doesn't mean your body could handle all this." It's Asha again, she cradles you softly to the ground and you smile back at her.

She looks after you a lot, doesn't she? With everything that you two have done, this is the one thing that connects you like no other. A bond that transcends the reaches of Westeros and its petty feuding, but your eyes shutter and your lips murmur to her.

Asha would get it done, you would trust her that much....

[] - Take the Ogre's Head and Body, you mean to fashion it into something (Renown Gain, Attraction Gain, Boons)

[] - Take the Ogre's head, it will adorn a weapon of your choice. For all to know the true story of Ogresbane. (Weapon boon, ???, Renown Gain)

[] - You will leave it here, a reminder of what happened. It would become a fable of sorts, but some would know the truth. The story of the Battle of Ogres (Renown Gain, A Fable?)

You know, darkness is to be your home but your ears pick it up.

"Father! Is that not Prince Tommen? How did he- What just happened?" The cries only grow louder as the villagers seem to liven and then your head turns, there are children.

They must have hidden and the rest of these men, fighters, the lot of them.

Many women only cry and look over the bodies of their sons, fathers, and more you suppose with mournful gazes. You feel grateful that your Mother will not be seeing you in death.

"What is he? He fought that.. thing with ease! Is it true then!? The rumours!? They say Prince Tommen is a witch, like the heroes of old!" A boy, no older than 4 whispers it and he walks beside his mother, dainty fingers pawing at her own.

Asha takes command, seeing that Dorea, Mandon, and Dunk attend to you. Each looks you over with a smile, ever grateful that you continue to be okay.

Cregan, Jory, Victarion, and Artas take guard over Asha, whilst assisting what villagers they can as Asha calms the crowd with ease. A calm fell over the torn village and you wonder just how much had been her.

"Be at ease, my Prince did what he must, for when the rest of us rode into battle, he took the mettle of your warriors, he'd seen your wish to die. Did he wait? Did he cower with his guard? Did he summon us back!? No! He followed us, Lord Ogresbane!"

The first of many as they look at you, you see how the images form of you. How each concocts the imagery of you, the darling young princeling saving them from a fate most feared.

"You all saw this banner, the black lion meant to slaughter you! To use your kids as meat for his army, to produce such monstrosities on these fair lands of Westeros! Would you be one to sit there!?" Asha cries further and her voice seemed to carry for valleys as the men stare at you, bowing their heads and the steel gripping their hearts.

"NEVER! NO MERCY TO THE BLACK LION!" You stare at her and she glances back at you, a daring smile and one filled with little restraint.

She knows what she does, and you find no wish to stop her.

"Then follow my Lord, the Ogresbane! The Prince of Nowhere, Tommen of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister. Should he find them, should he sense any foulness across our fair Westeros, I promise you. They will meet the same fate that this Ogre did! Bend the Knee! Join us on this day! And we will end the scourge that is Gerold, the Black Lion!"

They roar, they cry and the widows dare to arm themselves as Asha's song lifts their spirits and sends each one to their knees.

They kneel, one by one, but this is it. A band of grieving windows, and warriors, supposedly.

Yet they were yours, your men, and it's just then that the cry rings out...

"LORD OGRESBANE!"

[] - To the West, the Black Lion wars here and you mean to fight him and end him. If this Ogre was to be a taster, you have a feeling Uncle Tyrion will need your help.

[] - To the South, The Reach and its flavours call to you. You'd defeated an Ogre and now your host sing the praises, you mean to ride through The Reach and gain further renown.

[] - To the East, the Stormlands, the home of the Stormlords and your brother's staunchest supporters. However, there seems to be news of your bastard brother making rounds and meeting lords.

[] - Further South, Dorne, the seat of the Dornish and neutral in the ways of politics since the death of Elia Martell. Since your defeat of an Ogre, you mean to bring news and glamour but Dorne may not be a place for you regardless of your triumphs

[] - The North, the Wall. Dunk means to travel and he does not wish to stop, especially in the face of such surprises. You don't wish to disappoint, and you wish to see the great wonder that is the defence of the Seven Kingdoms.
...

Titles Gained:

Lord Ogresbane - You killed the Ogre which would have torn a village apart and brought fodder to an army of blood, you saved a village and are hailed as such.

...

Sword and Shield: Impressive > Skilled (+25 to Combat Rolls)

...

Host Gained!

You have gained 25 villagers to your cause, what may it be? Who knows, but you have the beginnings of it following you wherever and into battle...

...

A/N: Whew, the Ogre is dead. Long Live Ogresbane! This was just incredible for me to write, especially with the end and fighting scenes, which was pretty much all of it heh.

If you wish to go ahead and fight King Gerold then the vote is there. I just hope you all know this Ogre in the rolls session, well it wasn't easy heh. Now good luck, Lord Ogresbane, and I can't wait to see what happens with these votes.

If anyone has questions, please, let me know.