bloodynine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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melodiesoflife2015-06-30 10:44 am
bloodynine) wrote in melodiesoflife2015-06-30 10:44 am
Entry tags:
Last Argument of Kings
Where : Aqures Ixen, 14th district
When: June 30th
Summary : Logen considers going to war again
Warning: Logen is basically his own warning. Swears, graphic discussion of violence, really could be anything.
War always comes from the South. That much has always been true for Logen. When Bethod and his war chiefs, Logen first among them, pushed south, when the Union counterattacked from the South... or even when Logen went on his pointless quest with Bayaz, not so long ago now. A different time, a different place, yes, but Logen is amused by the seemingly circular nature of his life. The shabbily dressed Northman stares south,
a bottle of wine in his right hand, his left rubbing the stump, scarred mass where his finger used to be.
He considers to himself that he's scared, again. He always is, before a big fight, and the Bloody-Nine isn't the one in charge. He knows what's coming, probably better than most, in an open war. But seeing something horrible coming really isn't any comfort. He thinks about the fights he's had in cities before. In Carleon, in the north, and the huge brawl in Adua, down south in the Union. Well, at least this time he likely won't be smashing his way in to save a King who was one of his few friends. But... the thought sobers him. In all of this city, he probably doesn't have a friend, his own unwillingness to get close to any of the other strange people, the so-called Heroes, strikes him. He takes a little breath, and looks back south, muttering to himself, "This time, I won't even leave behind any bad songs, or fear. Maybe that's for the best."
He can be found just standing, drinking, and staring south towards the not-yet visible army that presumably will be coming to attack the city, occasionally sipping from his wine and muttering to himself. Logen, his significant size, and generally aggressive way of carrying himself aside, looks a bit like a massive, reeking vagrant, and only the belted on sword gives even the slightest indication he's anything other than a drunk.
When: June 30th
Summary : Logen considers going to war again
Warning: Logen is basically his own warning. Swears, graphic discussion of violence, really could be anything.
War always comes from the South. That much has always been true for Logen. When Bethod and his war chiefs, Logen first among them, pushed south, when the Union counterattacked from the South... or even when Logen went on his pointless quest with Bayaz, not so long ago now. A different time, a different place, yes, but Logen is amused by the seemingly circular nature of his life. The shabbily dressed Northman stares south,
a bottle of wine in his right hand, his left rubbing the stump, scarred mass where his finger used to be.
He considers to himself that he's scared, again. He always is, before a big fight, and the Bloody-Nine isn't the one in charge. He knows what's coming, probably better than most, in an open war. But seeing something horrible coming really isn't any comfort. He thinks about the fights he's had in cities before. In Carleon, in the north, and the huge brawl in Adua, down south in the Union. Well, at least this time he likely won't be smashing his way in to save a King who was one of his few friends. But... the thought sobers him. In all of this city, he probably doesn't have a friend, his own unwillingness to get close to any of the other strange people, the so-called Heroes, strikes him. He takes a little breath, and looks back south, muttering to himself, "This time, I won't even leave behind any bad songs, or fear. Maybe that's for the best."
He can be found just standing, drinking, and staring south towards the not-yet visible army that presumably will be coming to attack the city, occasionally sipping from his wine and muttering to himself. Logen, his significant size, and generally aggressive way of carrying himself aside, looks a bit like a massive, reeking vagrant, and only the belted on sword gives even the slightest indication he's anything other than a drunk.