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Post by Mortifer the Monstrous on Jan 17, 2016 6:58:45 GMT
"Not much sport in crushing a few bees for a taste of honey." he said dismissively. "Once killed a giant to fuck his sister. Now that was sport!"
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Post by The Weirwood on Jan 17, 2016 7:02:04 GMT
"Didn't say it would be sport for you now did I." Dorran points out, "It's something that I'd sit and watch as the man cowered trying to act heroic. A giant woman?" Dorran shrugs, "Gonna have to tell me how that went one of these days."
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Post by Mortifer the Monstrous on Jan 17, 2016 7:18:57 GMT
"Bitch felt it, that's for sure." he laughed heartily, picking up the barrel and gulping down mead, the liquid running into his thick beard. "Thenns made my trials into a song, so I'm sure you'll hear of it. It's not a melody for those with a weak stomach."
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Post by The Weirwood on Jan 17, 2016 7:27:28 GMT
"If you made fucking a Giant one of your great feats, then they must of been pretty enjoyable. Not sure I'd label them all as a trial if it had that great of a happy ending for you." Dorran takes another sip of his own horn or ale that a squire had just brought back to him before running away again.
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Post by Mortifer the Monstrous on Jan 17, 2016 7:33:03 GMT
"Killing her brother was the trial. The latter was just a perk." he replied, with a belch. "Who said a feat can't be fun?"
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Post by The Weirwood on Jan 17, 2016 7:45:27 GMT
"If its too much fun, then its not challenging you. Which is what a trial should do, is it not?" Dorran points out.
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Post by Mortifer the Monstrous on Jan 17, 2016 7:57:24 GMT
"That's the problem with you lot south of the Wall." he shook his head. "Nothing half as entertaining as testing your limits."
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Post by The Weirwood on Jan 17, 2016 9:51:33 GMT
"If you aren't scared you are going to die at least once in the fight, then you are not testing your limits. That is universal, not just south or north of the wall." Dorran responds, "If you are laughing throughout the fight, you are just toying with your opponent."
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Post by Mortifer the Monstrous on Jan 17, 2016 20:49:21 GMT
"Little left but toys for me." the giant of a man replied, with no indication he was joking. "So do we kill them all now, or eat first?"
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Post by King Artys V Arryn on Jan 17, 2016 21:53:22 GMT
After landing and attending to the preparations related to the eagles' accommodation (and by that he meant "keeping them in a safe place, out of the sight of the curious folk"), King Artys decided to have a reconnaissance stroll around the Northern Camp. Sporting a simple gray wool tunic with his greatsword strapped on his back, the King gently greeted the Northmen he recognized from meetings past, now and then distributing a few fond pats on the back.
"Stark...!" Artys smiled and doubled his stride as he spotted the Northern Lord sitting amidst the tents; his liveliness soon died out as he spotted the massive hairy figure sharing the fire, though never having met the Wildling in person, he was pretty sure of who that was. "King Mortifer, I presume."
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Post by Mortifer the Monstrous on Jan 17, 2016 22:04:37 GMT
Mortifer has just finished draining the entire barrel of mead, a large belch echoing out.
"You presume right..." not recognizing Artys, Mortifer looked to the falcon sigil on his doublet. "Bird...man."
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Post by King Artys V Arryn on Jan 17, 2016 22:20:20 GMT
"Artys Arryn, King Of the Vale."
Artys gave a solemn nod with his head, the man's bluntness and apparent simplicity did not surprise him; in his Reign, choosing (or trying at least) to adopt a more diplomatic stance against the Hill Tribes, he was used to dealing with folk much alike this one.
"That beast of yours gave my men quite the fright earlier today. Took me a while to assure them the Old Gods were not sending us another cataclysm." He said, not laughing nor smiling, but in a japing tone. You see, we are not very used to Mammoths on the Vale."
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Post by Mortifer the Monstrous on Jan 17, 2016 22:46:13 GMT
"Perhaps they have." the Wilding replied with a sneer. "And I am their instrument."
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Post by King Artys V Arryn on Jan 17, 2016 23:01:08 GMT
Artys raised one of his eyebrows, not amused by Mortifer's statement.
"Good that we are on the same side then..." The King said, trying to alleviate the tension caused by the Wildling's sneer; but he knew full well that, if not speaking geographically, those words meant nothing.
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Post by Mortifer the Monstrous on Jan 17, 2016 23:26:45 GMT
The Wilding snorted in derision, before spitting by Artys' food.
"You recognize the proper Gods at least." he allowed. "Good a line in the dirt as any between friend and foe."
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