Plans and Puppets
Sometime in the Age of Heroes, Before the Rise of Valyria
Temptation is as sweet as mead and honey upon the tongue, of all that you might learn or do, of all that you might leave behind to grow unseen and unheard, to reap once the time is right. But behind temptation is it's shadow, sharp as broken glass along the edges of your mind. What might you change, what might you lose?
The future entire; the answer is grim enough that even Lya and Qyburn are not inclined to seek much further afield than the Iron Islands, not even to the halls of Yss or the Greendream.
Thus, you make your way north and a little west, not far from where Pyke would be in the world unborn. In many ways the hall of Horcas Hardreed is little different from most others in this realm, a round stone tower tapering towards the top, the kind of which you can still see the remains in many places in Westeros your time, with a rickety wooden annex growing out of it like some strange protuberance. There are no runes here to light the way into the night, only the faint light of oil-soaked torches flickering sickly yellow. There are no godswoods, either, and not due to traitor's flames. These islands have always been poor and stony, and of late cursed with failed harvests even by their meager standards, buffeted with bitter storms from which many had blamed the Storm God.
It takes Aife barely a whiff of the air and a glance at the heavy clouds to realize another is to blame, and little wonder. The first you heard of Damphair had been conjuring storms against the Royal Fleet.
"Is there a driftwood crown somewhere?" Lya wonders silently.
"Or have they not started handing such powers out yet until the Ironborn yoke themselves?"
Another question to which you cannot yet find an answer, but there are yet other uses you can put those inside to.
According to the dead you had spoken to, these were among the first folk to fall to whispers from the depths. The youngest son had slain his father and brothers to mark a break with the Old Gods which cannot be mended. Horcas had practically sold his sisters for alliance with the other apostate lords soon after, leaving him to brood alone in the company of fellow killers, often drinking and plotting deep into the night. He was a traitor shunned even by his fellow traitors, and in that sense a perfect fit for your purposes. After all, it would not do for the mask you wear to draw too much attention to itself in the years and decades to come.
Ideally he will live just enough after the ritual as not to draw undue attention to his demise... though choosing one with so little respect even among his own fellow renegades means you will struggle to persuade them to adopt the shape of the oath you prefer.
"We have found the 'Drowned Man'," one of the twins whispers in your thoughts.
"The only thing he seems to be drowning in presently is wine..." he adds scornfully.
"No danger of being discovered there."
Alas, Qyburn's news is less good. There are some manner of subtle watchers in the well from which the keep takes its water.
Delicate almost translucent creatures that could be crushed by a child's hand, yet which could dominate body and mind as surely as the most skilled of fiends. It is clear the Deep Ones do not wish to enslave all the people here, for the Drowned God would gain no worship and no powers from the use of such puppets, but you must be wary that any disguise you take on is at least impenetrable to the senses of such as they.
"Fuck," Lya curses uncharacteristically.
"I hate leaving anyone to the company of things like this... But there's nothing we can do in the long run is there?"
"If nothing else, the lessons of history show us that these creatures will not last long in the islands. "They faded as the ages passed and the magic of the world cooled," Qybrun awkwardly tries to offer comfort.
From the timber of Lya's thoughts, she appreciates the sentiment at least.
How do you take on the semblance of Horcas Hardreed and his household?
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OOC: It's good you brought the aberration and psioncs expert on. The DCs for anyone else finding those puppeteers would have been sky-high. Not yet edited.