ANGROD POV
I woke to jostling and general uncomfortable movements, turning around in hopes of ignoring what was happening, I dropped.
Landing face-first into the deck was not fun. Shaking off sleep, I stagger to my feet and take a hold of my hammock to balance myself, even after a week at sea I was still not used to waking up without solid ground beneath me.
Another nightmare of returning to Hardhome to see a desolated wreck. The only reason I finally decided to take this journey was because of the runes that the children of the forests were carving around Hardhome.
While it won't stop the Others from passing through, weaker wights were fair game until the magic in them was burnt out. Grokmar's presence there was a reassuring factor well.
Shaking off thoughts of swimming back to the far North, I look around and spot Ygritte seated cross-legged and balanced perfectly, to my great envy. Snapping my fingers in front of her face doesn't seem to wake her so she's most likely in a trance, I deduce as I also notice dried wierwood paste on her lips.
She had taken to going into trances like this and communicating with Bloodraven far more than I liked, and apparently, she had more first men blood in her than Valyrian, I'm guessing the reason why it was never focused on was because she never had anybody to teach her.
She had taken to dream walking and had made more progress in warging into the seagulls and passing seals far better than I did in the months I spent with Bloodraven, something about having a more malleable mind and being clear and level headed.
Then again, I was more focused on experimenting with other alternatives than solely warging. Done with my morning absolutions, I went to see my ship.
The Jormungandar was a fine ship. A refitted and reinforced galley that we… 'obtained' a few months ago from an overconfident and now dead slaver and his Ghiscari employer who was still cooling his hills down in the cargo bay.
My plans for going to Essos were threefold. First was Trade, The Far North had few things that were really in demand in Essos, but the few things that were valued there were rare to get and the perilous journey this far north was not worth it to most people that were not slavers and the few good merchants.
There few real things of value to trade like wierwood, Seals, walruses, and sea lions that are more common. Nobody was stupid enough to cut down any wierwood tree though, and more so ever since the children of the forests came to join us. But strong enough branches that fell off were free game.
My second plan was to ransom off the Ghiscari we captured a few months back. His knowledge of common and Old tongue where nonexistent apparently, he spoke only High Valyrian.
The only reason he was not dead was because the former pirate/slaver turned free folk that joined up with us months back spoke low Valyrian and was able to interpret some of the noble's rambling.
Our captive was of the blood of Old Ghis. The elites of elites, and second son to one of the ruling wise masters of New Ghis. So we sent a message ahead a month ago to meet at Pentos, I definitely didn't plan on going halfway around the world to New Ghis, it was too close to Qarth for my liking, and I was not going to surrender the home advantage to them.
My third plan was Mercenary work.
Free folks breathe battle. we were hard folks, made so by a harsh land. Most were wielding blades as soon as they were past ten years, the only thing we lacked was discipline and formation, but we would make do. The ship was filled with five hundred Veteran free folk, wielding axe, spear, and blade. The only people we could spare from guarding Hardhome.
"Warchief"
I'm shaking out of my muse halfway up the deck by a frowning Yorwick, the blue-eyed vitna.
"Yorwick" I reply with a raised brow.
"You need to see this chief"
Frowning at the urgency in his voice, I rush up to the deck and behold a wide fog that encompassed all I could the see and was also trying to climb up the ship.
"Shiiit, what am I seeing Yorwick?" I asked as I griped Dark sister's hilt, the other free folks above deck were anxious as well but not panicking, few things topped fighting the reanimated corpse of loved ones or friends.
"We don't know chief, it started suddenly. We didn't notice until we were almost covered"
I frowned as kept on observing the fog, I didn't need to be dragon blooded to know this was Magic, not the good kind either. The fog looked almost sentient in the way it moved, like a predator that knew its prey was not going anywhere.
"Keep Alert" I announced, Yorwick stood behind me Dane axe in hand already.
Dipping my fingers into the satchel on my waist and quickly smear the wierwood paste around my eyes.
I opened my eyes again and the rush of information threatened to stun me, but my long practice with it paid off as I was able to blink away the lesser information like the strands of hair on the head of free folk ahead of me. Focusing my sight on the fog, I beheld death and it looked right back at me.
With the supernatural heightened senses from the paste, I could see the fog for what it really was, souls, gaunt and sickly-looking things, screaming wordlessly and damned to whatever kept them chained to this pitiful existence.
Looking further and felt my vision sharpen again as my eyes changed shape and I was able to make out a ship with black sails and a dark red hull that was heavily surrounded by the damned fog, I felt a chill run down my spine. Squinting more I was able to make out a flag above, a red-eye with a black pupil beneath a black iron crown supported by two crows
"The silence" I whisper to myself, well it seemed that we might just be getting into a fight after all.
Unsheathing dark sister, I spot a single figure on deck, with the fog and the distractions that were the chained souls, I could barely make out the figure, but I already knew who it was, although his wide grin and wave was a surprise.
Looking at him again, the only features I was sure of, was the demented grin plastered on his face and a left eye that glowed with malice and power.
With a raised eyebrow, I Give off a wave of my own with dark sister in hand, seconds later the fog seemed to thicken around The silence, while also lightening up and clearing around us.
"What did you do boss," Yorwick asked
"Nothing, pass the news to Thormir, full speed ahead to Pentos" I sheathe my sword back and consider this meeting. Euron Greyjoy always seemed half-mad and very fickle, I don't like my odds against him unprepared if he already had some magic in his grasp.
Grabbing a hold of Yorwicks arm as he was about to move off I add "Tell Tormund, the Vitna and ten trustworthy free folks to come and meet me below deck, it's about time you lot tried using the wierwood paste, lets see if you lot have the spark of talent to do something with it" he takes off with a nod.
I turn around with a grin almost wide enough to rival Euron's own and looked at the retreating Fog, it seemed I was in a magical armed race. That means Plan Witcher Shock troops is a go.
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We got to Pentos late in the evening. I know I'm supposed to say Pentos is a beautiful city, complement its stunning port and its bright people yadayada. But I just couldn't find it in me to do so, I grew up in Urban areas my whole life. I had seen marvels of engineering from skyscrapers to sprawling metropolises like New York. Compared to Pentos… well, I guess it has that rustic medieval vibe going for it and being able to act calm and unruffled while the other free folks gaped was satisfying.
I noticed something from the moment I stepped off the ship and looked down the shaking dockmaster that had to strain his neck to look me in the eye.
Northmen and maybe most Westrosi as a, in general, were big. Where I thought the average height in ASOIAF verse was 6'0, looking around I realized how wrong I was. Everywhere I looked most people just looked… small
The dockmaster started rambling in what I'm guessing is low Valyrian. With every Free folk that stepped off the ship, the Dockmaster took a step back. At this point, we were drawing attention as some traders and other people stopped to observe the sight of the fur-clad barbarians. Four wandering guards saw what was happening and quickly rushed to back up the dockmaster.
"You are scaring them Angrod" Ygritte announced her presence in common as she stepped down from the ship to stand at my side while Tormund, Yorwick, and the other free folks that were disembarking with us stood behind me.
"But they look so… small" The lead guard was barely 6'0.
Shoving me out of the way with an amused huff, she stepped forward to address the dockmaster who was already halfway behind the lead guard.
"We are… Westrosi traders and mercenaries, if you will, and we speak only common"
"Oh yes common" the dockmaster finally seemed to be regaining his nerve and confidence now that he realized we were not hostile and we spoke a language that he could understand, smoothly transitioning into common he started his whole spiel from the beginning again.
"Welcome to Pentos, most beautiful of the free cities and…"
At that point I just tuned out the dockmaster and stared at the guards, with the pristine amour and spears, it didn't take a genius to figure out that most of the city guards were as green as a fifteen-year-old free folk, with the scrawny musculature to go with it.
It was not all that surprising either as I was already aware that Braavos might as well have their balls in a vice, with the way their military forces were curtailed. it was almost pitiful.
Overlooking them with the assurance that if it ever came down to a fight, other than the lead guard that looked like he had some experience under his belt the remaining three were not even going to slow me down.
People were starting to lose interest and had either stopped staring or gone back to what they were doing, but I wondered if Daenerys was still here.
I'd hope not. While it would be interesting to meet her this early in the timeline when she hasn't had the chance yet to harden her self for what was to come, I didn't care all that much about her.
I wouldn't have minded giving Viserys a good whooping for how he treated her, although I had always pitied him in a way. But well they've done all of that already and she should be on her way to Qarth and if magic was really back, then the warlocks were already leading in the magical arms race, I didn't want anything to do with them.
"Angrod"
I blinked in surprise, before looking at Ygritte and the retreating harbor master that calling for someone "what?"
"you might as well have been sleeping on your feet for all the good you did here"
"Bah, least we are done with all the talk. Let's go find a tavern or something, the comfort of Hardhome has spoilt me, I would like to sleep on a real bed"
Letting out a sigh she replies "The dockmaster went to fetch a guild that would lead us to an acceptable tavern"
"That should be the boy then" Tormund Interjected
A short brown-haired boy stopped a few meters shy of us panting and trying to recover his breath "Follow me please"
Taking in the sights of Pentos just reinforced my belief that first men, or maybe just people of the north were taller. We drew attention just walking pass, from our height to our dresses of fur. Just for a second, I regretted not coming with my wolf cloak and headdress, just to mess with them.
Pentos was… bright. Everyone wore clothes so colorful I felt my eyes bleed just looking at them. With a strange architecture that was somewhere between middle eastern and medieval France.
Our journey to the Whistling fish tavern was supposed to be a short and boring one, it was a popular tavern close to the dock and supposedly housed mostly mercenaries and sailors, if our guild was to be believed. He seemed strangely jovial for someone that wasn't even up Ygritte's shoulder.
A jab to my side made me look at Ygritte again. "You were thinking something stupid again"
I tried to put up an innocent look, but she didn't seem convinced so I just smiled and shrugged.
Our byplay was interrupted by a white-haired man in red robes in front of us. If his red robes didn't inform me of his allegiance, the fiery heart imprinted on the front of the robes did.
Our guide had gone still and stumbled back the moment the red priest came to us. I remember they were well known in Pentos, but not well-liked. Putting my hand on the boy's shoulder, I gently shove him to the side and closer to Tormund before stepping forward.
The moment I stepped forward I realized that the red priest was blind, his eyes were milky white, who would have known that looking straight into the fire all day had its downsides, definitely not them.
He stretched his hand to grab my cloak, but I caught the arm before he could. Ignoring my motion, he started speaking.
"beware cold men with blue lips, son of man, touched by fire. Your rage shows the elder blood breeds true. I have seen it in the flames, that anger gone unchecked. Keep it shackled and chained, less you scar the world like your elders before you"
With his piece said, he jerked his hand back and I let go, before murmuring to himself and walking away and disappearing into the crowd just as quickly as he came.
"I don't like prophesies," I said deadpan before calling for the boy to lead us to the tavern once more. His jovial attitude had been drained by the encounter with the red priest and he was more subdued for the rest of the journey.
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Reaching the tavern and getting our rooms was a blur, the day had gotten darker faster than expected, by the time we had settled down our arms and luggage, we were called down for dinner.
The tavern was a huge three-story building, with a chubby woman as the bartender and matron. The boy was also right as the tavern was full of men with bearing armor and hard eyes.
We took a seat on a wide table that could seat the whole ten of us, while the remaining free folks that came down from the ship, spread out to other taverns in groups of ten or more.
Halfway into our meal, a new group of mercenaries stepped in. you could tell they were just coming back from a battle as they had that jovial and boisterous attitude that only those that stared death in the face and said 'not today' possessed.
I ignored them after a quick look at them, at least that was before the leader walked up to us after a short conversation with the now frowning bartender.
"you soddy lots are at our table, leave" I raised an eyebrow and dropped the mug I was drinking from to look the man in the eye and make sure he was serious. He was a tall man, maybe 6'3 or something with the grith and heavy plate to go with it.
I looked at Ygritte and Tormund who sat at both sides of me as if to confirm if I was hallucinating. The surprised look on Ygritte's face and the amused look on Tormund's let me know the answer to my unasked question.
I stared at the man again, could this be the legendary bar fight. I had never been in a bar fight in my past life, and in this life either, there were no bars or brothels in the north.
At this point, we had started drawing attention, and the rest of the mercenaries that came in with him moved to stand behind him. I decided to ignore him, maybe he would leave if he was ignored, I was too new in the city to go stirring up a fight.
Moving to grab my mug again, a mousy looking mercenary used his hand and cleared the table, shoving off and scattering our foods and drinks on the floor.
I moved with a snarl on my lips. Gripping the heavy table with my two I hands, I stood and flipped it with force. Slamming it into the mercenary and burying him under the heavy table.
The mercenaries were shocked by the sudden display of violence, Tormund was not. With a roar on his lip about his ale, he dived the leading mercenary shoulder first, sending them both to the floor.
"A barfight it is," I said with a booming laugh as we charged each other.
As soon as the first merc reached me, my hand lashed out and grabbed him by his face. Lifted him and up slammed him back down, I ignored his twitching body as I stood to my feet.
Another merc charged the moment I stood. Slamming into me shoulder first and arms wrapped around me. He was only able to push me back a few meters away from the royal rumble before his momentum was spent.
With a wide grin on my face, I lifted my hands and slammed a closed double-handed hammer fist on his back with bone-crushing force.
His yelp of pain was cut short as I gripped him by the side, lifted and threw him to the bar where the bartender was looking at us with an annoyed look on her face.
Laughing it off, I charged back into the brawl and the rest of the fight was a blur, until out of instinct more than anything, I spun and grabbed a hand that held a dagger that was inches away from my spine.
It was the mousy looking merc. I felt a heat in my chest as I stared down the merc I don't know what my face must have looked like, but I doubt it was pretty, as the merc turned pale. I twisted the wrist with a sharp crack, His scream was cut short and went a few shades higher as I broke that arm in five different places.
I let his unconscious body drop as he passed out from the pain. But my blood was still pumping hard and fast why does he get to be unconscious after what he almost did. I moved to step on the hand again to wake him, but someone grabbed my elbow.
A whispered "Angrod" stopped me from lashing out. The fight had ground to a halt after the piercing scream, and the spectating mercenaries and sailors stared at the scene.
After a few seconds, a dark-haired, heavily scarred mercenary spoke "you don't pull out a knife, sword or weapon in a bar fight"
Lifting his mug to me with a nod, he went back to his food just as the rest did.
I didn't realize I was panting till Ygritte led me upstairs, "are you alright" she asked a concerned look on her face.
I replied her with a nod. we will send out a message to the Ghiscari noble tomorrow, for today, I just need to sleep.
With a final nod, I continued my journey to my room alone.
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Our venue and date for our 'meeting' with the Ghiscari noble was decided, so we sold off all our wares as plans were already in motion. Tormund was in search of mercenary contracts. while I, Yorwick, Morald, and Ygritte went to meet with the Ghiscari.
We were going to be making the transaction outside Pentos, in the boundary where Qohor, Norvos, and Vaes Khadohk met. There was a small-town trading town there for caravans.
We took only fifteen free folks and left the prisoner on the ship. I was forced to learn horse riding out of necessity during the week it took us to get there. Ygritte mostly had it down in a day. But that was her cheating with the aid of warging.
The glittering bronze inn was a two-story building that surprisingly upscale for a town that was barely on the map. Its residents were dressed in silks, soft furs, and painted faces that made it hard to pick out the noble. He saw us first and waved us upstairs and over to a side room. He was a slim man, small of stature, with reddish-brown hair that fell to his shoulders and a nervous look on his face, three guards stood behind him.
For some reason their presence brought chills down my spine, their eyes looked pale and dead, one stared at dark sister, the other stared me in the eye and the last stared at Ygritte. I considered using the paste to activate what I was calling my witch sight, but that would draw attention as few things would. I should have put it on before I stepped. Hindsight is a bitch.
The Ghiscari started the discussion with a no-nonsense tone, "sit, I would rather not spend more time with your ilk than I already have"
The way he emphasized the word, caught me off guard, I felt like things were happening that I was not aware of. Had he come in contact with a free folk?
There was a small table in the middle and two seats. There was also a strange smell in the air, incense most likely. So, the both of us sat while the others stood
"Now where is my son?"
"don't worry your pretty head, he's hale and healthy on my ship"
"and how much are you requesting for his release"
I reply with an easy shrug "5 thousand gold coins"
The noble frowns heavily, and opens his mouth to bargain-
"Don't bother" I stop him before he can even start. "Your son and his crew came to my land to rape, pillage, and steal. You should be lucky I'm giving him back alive"
The Ghiscari was about to speak when there was a sudden thud behind me, the first guard gave off a wicked smile before his form shimmered for a second. "glamour!" I cried out and spun too late.
Morald was on the floor, with two daggers lodged in his back, while Yorwick fended off three blue-lipped assassins, Ygritte was on her knees.
The first glamoured guard punished me for looking away by diving over the table and trying to shove a knife in my back. But I was wearing my breastplate under my cloak so it only pierced the cloak and glanced off.
I snapped back with my left hand and sent the first man off the table before kicking it to the Ghiscari noble that looked to be in shock. The second warlock assassins jumped over the table, only to impale himself on darksister. The glamor flickered off, and for the first time, I saw his features clearly. Blue eyes with dark bangs below. Purple lips and chalky white skin. The horror in my eyes made the dying warlock laugh as I pushed him off and turned to face the third one, just as the last whispered words of power left his lips and his shadow moved.
"No!"
Then the world was plunged into darkness. I quickly dipped my finger into my pouch and smeared the paste on my eyes. It was not enough to see everywhere, but I could see around me, and the first sight my enhanced vision saw was Ygritte bleeding and slumped over a warlock's shoulder.
I saw red. Letting out a roar, that mad no noise with the shadow that obscured us, I charged the warlock, but the three other assassins that engaged Yorwick, sans one that was now missing his head blocked me from stopping the two fleeing warlocks. They slowed me down for a few seconds, but those seconds were all it took for the warlock to disappear through the window.
I followed them through the window and jumped out. Folding my legs and braced for impact, landed with a thud and a roll, i got back to my feet, but I could only see a single Warlock on a horse running away. With teeth bared, blood pumping, and fire in my chest so hot, I felt like I was immolating. I jumped on my horse and pursed. If I was just a minute slower, I would have seen Ygritte stumbling out of an alley with a dead warlock in her hands.
I think this is my longest chapter ever. Life has hit me hard recently so I've been very busy. This should be the second to the last chapter before the end of this arc.
Thank you for the kind reviews. I will try to brush up my writing before I start the second arc.
I'm making a retcon (it's not really a big issue) as of this chapter, Dany has not gotten to the red wastes.
For those that might be confused, the incenses was supposed to dull their movements and incapacitate them, but Angrod's blood burnt through it and Yorwick was big, so it took longer to work on him, compared to Morald or Ygritte that had a smaller stature.
PM Me if you have any question, I will try to answer as soon as possible. I've been awake for close to 24hours, I'm going to bed.