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Post by Ser Trajan Waters on Aug 27, 2012 17:34:07 GMT -5
The center of religious worship for the Faith of the Seven and the seat of the High Septon of the Faith.
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Post by Ser Trajan Waters on Aug 27, 2012 17:39:19 GMT -5
Fletcher approached the massive doors of the Great Sept, dressed in one of the Second Son’s outfits looted from their last skirmish. He felt ridiculous in the getup, light from his silver plate shining in his eyes and rainbow cloak billowing in the wind. He could still smell the blood soaked into the hair shirt of the man that had been slain in it. It was maddeningly itchy, but the ex-mercenary kept his composure as he passed into the headquarters of the Heretics' hated foes.
As he entered, Fletcher adopted a heavy limp and approached the nearest septon.
"I must...speak to...the High Septon." he said in a pained tone. "They...killed them all...the Heretic killed them all!"
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Post by The Great Other on Aug 27, 2012 17:44:02 GMT -5
The Second Son Commander turns around and glares at the men "Explain NOW!" He roars.
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Post by Ser Trajan Waters on Aug 27, 2012 17:48:32 GMT -5
"He...made me swear...an oath to the Seven." Fletcher replied, breathing heavily. "To...bring the message...High Septon."
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Post by The Great Other on Aug 27, 2012 17:51:07 GMT -5
The High Scepton Rushes into the Hall..."What is it my son?"
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Post by Ser Trajan Waters on Aug 27, 2012 18:05:21 GMT -5
Fletcher dropped to a knee.
"Most Holy Father!" he said, before coughing.
He glanced around at the commoners that had come to worship today and the septons of non-militant orders.
"Should we not...discuss this in...private?" he asked. "Don't want to...cause a...panic."
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Post by The Great Other on Aug 27, 2012 18:15:18 GMT -5
"No my boy the Commander needs to hear this too, do not worry we can trust him." They walk to the war room.
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Post by Ser Trajan Waters on Aug 27, 2012 18:36:07 GMT -5
Fletcher limps after the High Septon and Commander into the War Room, eyes searching around for a good escape route for when the time came.
He took a seat, and took a deep breah as if to compose himself.
"We followed...Ser Charles...two weeks into the Kingswood." he began, eyes glazing over with a haunted look. "They we're...everywhere! Hundreds! Thousands! Demons...demons in the shadows."
Fletcher put his head into his hands and began to weep, long mournful haunted sobs.
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Post by The Great Other on Aug 27, 2012 18:40:52 GMT -5
The war room has two thin stain glass windows.
The High Seption Touches the mans shoulders. "Good god, the Heathens....are you hurt my boy?"
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Post by Ser Trajan Waters on Aug 27, 2012 18:46:43 GMT -5
"So much...pain...Holy Father." he responded. "Commander...milk of the...poppy...please."
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Post by The Great Other on Aug 27, 2012 18:49:07 GMT -5
"Maester!" The commander yells as he Opens the door.
The maester comes and nods after the request hurrying away quickly.
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Post by Ser Trajan Waters on Aug 27, 2012 18:59:51 GMT -5
Fletcher groans as the commander simply calls the maester rather than fetching him. He resigned himself to the fact this was the best oppurtunity he was going to get. With the High Septon's hand still on his shoulder, the outlaw pulls the dagger from his sleeve in one fluid motion and attempts to drive it up through the old man's jaw.
(Short Blades-Noteworthy)
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Post by The Great Other on Aug 27, 2012 19:12:39 GMT -5
(Small Blades Roll 114 Fail)
The blade goes up the side of the Septons face cutting him all the way up his face. The commander turns and draws his sword running to protect the Septon.
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Post by Ser Trajan Waters on Aug 27, 2012 19:21:54 GMT -5
Fletcher presses the attack, seeing the advancing commander in his peripheral vision. If he was to die this day, the High Septon would fall with him. Immortality in the history tomes would be the only afterlife that awaited him.
(Small Blades-Noteworthy)
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Post by The Great Other on Aug 27, 2012 19:26:44 GMT -5
(Small Blades Roll 86 Fail)
He takes a stab but the High Septon is able to roll away before the blade strikes him the Commander takes a swing at Fletcher.
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