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Apr 5 2018, 08:11 PM
"They never quite get my nose right." ********************************************** WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE FOR CRIMES AGAINST THE CROWN:
An Excerpt from a Bounty Posted in 302 AC;
A hand-drawn portrait of a slight, feminine figure wearing a hood is present. The features are nondescript aside from noticeable freckles but definitely feminine - the portrait wears a sly smile, as if mocking the reader. Someone
The Smiling Fox is an outlaw and an enemy of the Seven Kingdoms and wanted dead or alive for the crimes of treason, poaching, banditry, disturbing the Queen's Peace, murder, and pandering propaganda against the Crown. The King's Road will not be fully safe until this criminal has been met with the Queen's Justice.
Any information regarding the whereabouts or identity of The Smiling Fox will be rewarded with five Gold Dragons. Apprehension of the Smiling Fox will be rewarded with fifteen Gold Dragons. ********************************************** RANDOM SECTION:
Color: Indigo - Pride. Represents the Soul. Purpose. Childlike curiosity. Cunning. Adventure.
Tarot Card: The Sun.
Foods: Sweets, fruits of the earth. Salt candy.
Drinks: Sweet wine, fresh and freezing spring water.
Sensations: Warmth of a campfire, soft blankets, the sting of a rose's thorn, hug from your favorite person, cool breeze on a balmy evening, bare feet on wet grass, heat of a sunny afternoon.
Scents: Fire/heat, fresh daisies, wet earth, leather, honey, cooking meat.
Visuals: Rain on cobblestone street, the starry sky from a high up place, a full dinner table occupied with loved ones.
Ambiance: Rain on a tin roof, crackling fire, joyful laughter, hum of crickets, tinkling dinnerware, the sound of wine pouring.
Most Noticeable Features: Freckles, big eyes, crooked/sly grin. Big attitude in an itty bitty (curvy af) body. ********************************************** TW: Suggested child abuse/violence.
Sorrow Found Me When I was Young
i. Hunger Pangs
Your first memory is of a bone deep, gnawing hunger. Not too long after that comes the pain - the lashes of a makeshift whip of leather that licks your back when you are too loud, or too quiet, or...well, you don't really understand why that sharp, lightning fast pain crashes into your young flesh. The hunger and the pain are the only constant, the only things that break up your otherwise unremarkable early days. You are expected to care for your mother and wait for her when she is out. The rope tied around your neck is tight and itchy but you stay, because you fear the bite of leather.
Your mother is a whore.
It takes you some time to learn the meaning of the word - but when she grows too old and bitter to find work under Lord Baelish's supervision, she brings men home. And there you remain, tied to the metal stake in the ground until it is time for her bath and supper. The gentleness in you, what little bit of love you still have for your mother, finds ease in this simple routine of care. Even if it is slightly selfish, because she is a sound sleeper - and when she is asleep you may simple exist without fear of punishment.
There is work to be done before the men come as well. You brush her hair and slather her with scented oils - you like this part the least. Because you can tell she is eyeing you sacrificially in the dirty mirror. Seeing your youth and slowly budding beauty and being envious of every single drop of it.
It is an unforgiving world. This is a lesson you learn early - and not just from your mother. You go to bed every night to her whispers to dream sweet dreams because that is the only sweetness that you, a lowly bastard girl no one wanted, would find in life. For many a year she was proven right - granted it was a self fulfilling prophecy of her own making. It was one of her clients that ended up doing her in. It was the most confusing several long moments of your life, watching this stranger strangle the life out of your mother as you were tied to the stake, utterly helpless to do anything but sob quietly.
In the end, you supposed you were just lucky he didn't do the same to you.
Perhaps it would have been kinder if he had, because you were on your own and those first few months were the worst of your life. Your mother's murderer had taken the pitiful amount of coin there was to be had. You had nothing and no one. The markets were massive, and you had never been outside the home before. It took you nearly three months just to learn the sprawl of the city that was your home. It took you even longer to get halfway successful at feeding yourself. You begged far more often than you'd care to admit, and ate from garbage when that failed.
And it failed frequently.
You were quiet and meek for the first seven years of your life but on your eighth summer of life there was a valuable lesson learned. Older children, urchins like you, had taken to beating you bloody and taking what little you had for themselves. It was a warm day by the water, a day of bathing. You had shunned filth ever since leaving the putrid state of your childhood home. If one could even call it that. All that was left there was the corpse of your mother and the stake and the whip. Nothing of use to you.
A water snake slithered by and while the other children screamed and ran, you cautiously stayed put. It was fascinating, the way it hissed and moved. It was non venemous - you knew because a kindly boatswain had found you crying some time ago over a close encounter with the very same species. He'd assured you it looked far more frightening that it was. And that was what you needed. It didn't matter if you were poisonous or not, so long as people believed you are. It didn't matter if you were strong or dangerous - so long as you put off that vibe.
Not long after you sharpened your fighting teeth on those same bullies that were tormenting you for months. You managed to blind the biggest and meanest in one eye, and the others fell away into nothing. Another lesson learned - fell the biggest threat and the weaker ones scurry.
Less to worry about in the long run..
You were nothing if not a quick learner.
But grit and viciousness would only do so much. You needed actual weapons.
And that was when your dull, grey life started to brighten a little. Because your decision to arm yourself properly lead you to the Street of Steel and that lead you to Gendry.
Childhood Is A Kingdom Where Nobody Dies
i.Forged in Fire
A strong arm, far stronger than any child's should be, wrapped around your middle. An equally strong hand clamped your mouth to keep you from making a noise to alert his master. "What the hell are you doing in here?" He wasn't much older than you - at least you assumed as much by his face. He was more than half your size however, which made him more intimidating. But you felt no malice there, no real anger. And so you relaxed against him - right before biting the bloody hell out of him.
And that, somehow, was how you met your best friend.
He had caught you thieving while he was working late. Covered in soot and sweat and determination. Something about the gentleness in his vivid green eyes called to you - it was the first scrap of kindness anyone had shown you, ever. So it was only natural to latch on, to cling with everything you had in you. It took you some time to convince Gendry to smith you a weapon. For whatever reason, he was hesitant on the idea. You decided to start going after the richer in pocket instead of those struggling, even though it was more dangerous.
And, arguably, with your small stature and agility, you became quite good at it.
It took you nearly two months to gather enough coin, but once you did, Gendry solemnly relented.
You have carried those small, carefully crafted daggers ever since.
Your friendship was an odd thing, forged and reforged again, growing stronger each time. At first you were the annoying tag along, then the thief in the night sneaking him sweets, and then you were his steadfast companion, and you couldn't imagine life without each other.
ii. Promises are Made To Be Broken
It happened gradually but all too fast at once. Years passed and you grew together. He had his smithing and you had your thieving. You spent much time together but just as much time apart; it was mostly at night you met. When the forge was cool and he was tired from a long day's labor. You would coax him into climbing on top of his home to watch the stars with you, and you would lay there and talk for hours, often right up until he fell soundly asleep.
And you would watch his chest rise and fall, watch the worry and fatigue fall from his face and you would be struck by just how beautiful he was. An anger at the injustice befalling him would rise in you - he was noble and true and good and he deserved more from life. But his lot in life had made him accessible to you...so it was a bitter, double edged blade that you accepted the bite of because it meant you could simply be there, with him.
It took you far longer than it should have to realize how your feelings had changed.
It took him even longer to reciprocate - you were very nearly fourteen, the time most women were married off and with child, before you even had your first kiss. It was unsure and sloppy, but also wonderful. He got better with time and so did you. You practically had to throw him into bed, and that was unsure and sloppy too. But also the most perfect thing to ever happen to you.
And it made his disappearance even more heartbreaking.
All The Riches in The World
i.The Smiling Fox
When your heart was broken beyond repair there was only one thing to turn to.
Banditry, of course.
Taunting and causing the Queen any sort of problem was the only way you could dig back at the woman likely responsible for Gendry practically fleeing in the night without so much as a word. It had long been suspect ever since you overheard the King's Hand's conversation with his man outside the smith shop (you were minding your own business, waiting on the roof for Gendry to be released from duty) that he was of noble blood. You hadn't expected him to be the King's bastard, however. That particular revelation nearly made you tumble right off your perch and directly into the Hand's path.
And not long after, he was gone. You had struggled with that revelation, but before you could figure out a way to tell him, he had fled.
You tried to be angry, but you simply couldn't. The void that was left behind you filled with causing as much chaos and earning as much coin as possible, but every night before bed you would pretend you were sleeping next to him again, looking at the stars and dreaming of better lives...lives where you were together and safe and happy, and answered to no one.
You robbed your first carriage quite by mistake.
It was a hasty rabbit trap that happened to be on a main highway, and the wheel broke. Armed with your bow and daggers, you took advantage of light security. Over the years you got a name for yourself and were dubbed The Smiling Fox of the Kingswood. You eventually had to get smarter and more careful, because several teams of men were sent to subdue you and bring you to the Queen, either dead or alive.
ii. Out of the Blue and Into The Black
One of the last things you dared hope for was to see Gendry again. It had been years since you last mistook a man in the market for him. He was always black of hair and tall, around the right age Gendry should have been about then. But he would always turn and it would never be him, and your heart would break all over again. It was likely he was dead, but you simply couldn't bring yourself to believe that. You refused to wallow in that hard truth, and chose to believe that he was somewhere, safe and happy, and that he thought of you once in awhile and smiled.
It was all you could do, really.
So, imagine your surprise, when the man you rob in the Kingswood is actually him....
What is a God to a Non-Believer?
Laughter frequently laced with good-natured cursing boomed through the oft opening doors of the great hall of Winterfell; the source?
A steadily growing group of smiths, laborers, and warriors alike. In the very center sat a petite girl, cross-legged in the center of one of the long tables. Her laughter was among the loudest, unrestrained and lusty. A dice game was in front of her - loaded dice of course - but none of her new friends knew that. The gents had taken a while to warm up to the southron lass. Many had mistaken her for a maid or even a whore - she had fixed those mistakes quickly and succinctly. Apparently Lady Sansa’s good word travelled well and far; she’d had no trouble from any of these men at all.Plates of food and several tankards of wine and ale abounded - it was a veritable feast. Men came and went, as duties did, but there was consistently no less than a dozen men playing Yvaine’s game at any given time.
Yvaine had become something of a fixture in Sandor’s presence but the imposing man had become tricky to find - Yvaine tired of searching for the surly prick and entertained herself. Sansa had been busy, too, as usual. So the Lady of Winterfell would not miss her childhood friend’s presence as Yvaine steadily became drunker and drunker.The supply of wine she had possessed on the trip up had perished, and this northern swill was far stronger than what she was used to. It had to be, in order to stomach drinking it, apparently. It tasted something like dirt and perhaps shit covered flowers, but after three cups she could no longer taste anything. A blessed relief. Yvaine’s usual limits to drinking did not apply that night - she was determined to have fun at all costs.
She had her trusty and faithful daggers strapped to her sides of course; wearing her usual tight-laced green tunic and buckskin breeches. Her feet were bare - her boots haphazardly thrown against the nearest wall in a pique of discomfort. Shoes were weird. In the warmth of the great hall she had shed her green-fur lined cloak. Her hair shone red-gold in the torchlight, serving as a radiant, maniacal halo that matched her maniacal glee as another man in a dozen lost four gold pieces to her growing pile. Another bonus to this fine night? She was walking out of the great hall with more money than she had coming in.
”Come on you lot - you can do better than this! I might be moved to use my new gold to buy you piss poor sods some better luck if this keeps up!” she cackled, swilling some more potent wine; or was it ale? She’d lost track of what she was drinking somewhere along the line.
She was sure it would be fine.
Apr 8 2018, 05:51 PM
please remember to post in the claims sections, if you're unsure how to start, a great thing to do would be posting in other newbie's plotters, sign up for missions, sign up for the roleplay roulette, post an open thread, check out the ravens category or check out the inbox prompt section! can't wait to see you up and running around! smooch!