Bruce: Chapter 29
"It's…been a rough night," James Gordon sighed as he looked out upon the city from the turret they stood upon.
"They seem to occur frequently here," Diana replied.
"Yes, well, it's not every day we have the head of the crime ring's leader delivered to our doorstep…along with his three cohorts'."
It was true, the head of Carmine Falcone himself had been left on the bottom step of the stairs leading into Gordon's keep. Three other bloody heads laid beside it, all of them painted white with blood smeared around their lips.
"Joker is eliminating any rivals in contention for ruling crime in Gotham. With these four dead, now Falcone's son would be in charge," Bruce followed.
"Him, or the Astaporians, or the Qarthians, hell there's even some former Dothraki in the darkest corners of this city. There are too many crime families to keep eyes on all of them. Joker must be…" Before James could finish his sentence, Bruce did. "Declaring war on the crime lords of Gotham, that's what he's doing. With these four dead, he has a hold on slave trading, gambling, even weapons, he'll go through the families until he holds the reins to every crime ring in the city."
"Who's the greater concern, this mad man, or the man that let Tywin Lannister through your gates?" The Amazon princess questioned.
Gordon sighed again, "They both are. We still haven't found a trace of the man that led the Kingslayer to freedom, nor have we any hint of a scent on Nigma's trail. Joker's still yet to be seen, and now the bloody kingdom is at war it seems."
A raven had arrived saying Tywin's forces were moving north, with nearly sixty thousand men. In the few short weeks since his departure, Tywin had nearly doubled his forces from when he stood at Gotham's gates. Should he return with such numbers, Gotham stands no chance of survival.
Rebuilding had come a long way in so short a time. The Amazons proved valuable in their assistance, but battle and bloodshed were clearly their stronger calling. Many wished to avenge their dead by following Tywin North, and attacking his forces at their heels. Diana warned against it, knowing it to be a fool's errand. She was strong, but also wise, a wisdom Bruce had not seen in a woman in his lifetime. Selina had cunning, and Talia had a dangerous beauty with an even deadlier mind, but Diana showed true leadership prowess.
"We'll find both of them. Tywin can go and have his war with the Northmen. Should he return, Gotham will be ready," Bruce affirmed.
Bruce had planned to use the Amazons to the best of their abilities. Already they had begun training Gordon's newest recruits, of which there were nearly two thousand. Combined with his veteraned men, he totaled nearly three thousand watchmen. Tywin's assault had stirred Gotham's blood, and now its boiling was likely to overflood its walls. The Amazons also lent aid to stonesmiths, giving ways to make the walls more defendable, and fashions of arrowheads that would fly longer.
Those plans, however, would prove useless the next day, as Gotham welcomed yet another unexpected visitor.
The ship approaching Gotham was thrice the size of Diana's mighty warship. It had six masts, and once stopped into port, hundreds of Amazons could be seen bustling atop its deck. A long plank fell to the port deck, where Bruce, Diana, Dick, James, and three dozen armed men stood waiting. Armored Amazons spilled down the boardwalk, lining it and standing with spears straight at their sides. A woman followed, one a few hairs taller than even Bruce. As she passed, each Amazon bowed their head in reverence. It became clear that if Diana was their princess, this was surely their queen.
She had long flowing golden hair that was buffeted in the wind behind her. She wore an elegant white robe with golden trim sewn to look like vines reaching down the side of her body. Her eyes were just as brilliantly blue as Diana's, and her gaze was even more demanding of respect. She had a flatter chin than Diana, and a large golden crown crossed her hairline with rubies shaped like diamonds.
As the woman reached the deck where Bruce and his party stood, Diana knelt and looked to her boots in shame. "Apologies mother, I did not mean to disobey you but-"
Her mother sharply cut her off. "You meant as you acted, to disobey my direct orders. I ordered you not to interfere in the affairs of this foolish kingdom, but you did so anyways without care for rules or lives. How many lay dead now? All because you had to meddle with affairs that were better left untouched. Man knows of our existence now, a thing that cannot be undone as if it were a line drawn in the sand."
The way she stood and spoke reminded Bruce of a feminine Tywin Lannister. The power and respect flooding from every pore in their skin, with a grace deserved of a king.
"Mother, were it not for my actions this city would have fallen. Lord Lannister would have put so many innocent lives to slaughter, all in the name of his hubris," Diana sternly replied. She was strong, but even she flinched in the shadow of her mother.
"That is because that is what men are, arrogant. You are being blind Diana, we will not, and have never interfered with the realm of man. They are greedy, petty, and always hungering for power and blood. They are but children. You have stepped upon ground which you should not have my daughter. You are as blind as you were as a child. Open your eyes, see why we have remained on our island for so many centuries."
Diana sighed and stood. "No mother, it is you and your high council that is blind. You turn a blind eye to the needs of their world and instead force us into our own exile on that island! My eyes are open mother, and they see this world for what it is. In need of help. So if I must be exiled, then I will gladly choose the world of man. Here I can help, there we sit by and watch the world burn itself until nothing but ash remains. Tell me mother, how does that help anything? When Westoros burned beneath Aegon and his dragons, our ancestors stood by and did nothing. When the Mad King began burning his own people, we watched idle. So we survive on while the world around us crumbles, to what end? No, these children have the right of it. I will remain here. I am sorry mother."
"You forget your place Diana. Come home, forgo this folly and reclaim your right as Princess of Themyscara. Nothing lies in this world for you but pain," her mother ordered, with the desperate pleas of a mother echoing beneath the words.
"No mother, I know my place. It is here, helping these people."
The rest of the party stood silent, looking on as if they were not there. The Queen looked from her daughter to the group behind her, until her eyes settled on Bruce.
"You there, the one in the queer armor, step forward," she ordered with a finger uplifted. The golden rings around her arms jingled as she let her arm fall by her side.
Bruce stepped forward. "What do they call you, brave ser knight."
"I am not a knight," he replied.
One of the Amazons beside the queen turned harshly and drew her sword. "You would give Queen Hippolyta the respect she deserves you male scum!"
"Calm yourself Allopia, there is no need for such harshness here. What are you then stranger? A man that dons armor in your world is a knight is he not?"
"I wear armor, but I am not a knight. Knights swear oaths and pledge fealty to a lord. I have no lord, I make no pledges, other than to protect my people," Bruce sternly replied.
"Ah, and what name do you take to equal such great a purpose?"
"Batman."
Some of the Amazons behind the queen snickered as Bruce said his name. They could make japes to their hearts' content, it would not give them any ground in a fight against him.
"And you are this city's greatest warrior?"
"Yes."
She raised a finger to her lips. "I see, and you believe you could take every warrior I have brought this day? You could best nine centuries of Amazons?"
"No, I wouldn't have to. I need only to give my companions time to flee behind the wall and close the gates. That would probably take the time necessary to best two hundred of your warriors. That I could do," he returned. Reading the reaction in her face as her eyes narrowed.
"You are arrogant, but lack the foolish arrogance of most men. Yours is a…careful arrogance. Do you believe, if my daughter were to stay, you could protect her?" The Queen's face grew somber at the question.
"No, for she needs no protection."
The Queen dropped her head for a moment, losing her composure before regaining it with the ferocity of a lion. "Very well, Princess Diana of Themyscara, if this is the path you choose, then you are bound to it. I, Queen Hippolyta, banish you to the realm of men, never to return to Themyscara, and forever doomed to walk this lowly existence among mortal men. May you find some form of clarity and peace in your damnation."
Diana stood, tight lipped, as her mother strongly strode back up onto the deck of her ship. Many of the Amazons that had come with Diana wished to stay by their princess' side, but she would not have them share in her exile. The large ship returned to sea, with the three smaller battleships following. As they blinked over the horizon of the sea, Diana let loose a single tear, a tear that only Bruce spied.
"You made the right decision," he affirmed.
She turned to him. "How can you be so sure?"
"Saving the innocent men, women and children of this life is a greater calling than sitting on a throne of a kingdom who refuses to do nothing. They need us, were it not for the few that rose up against the darkness, where would the realm of men be?"
Diana gave a light smile as she wiped the tear from her cheek. "I would not know, men seem so afraid of anything that is different. Despite saving them, I still see a few of them giving me odd looks, or fearful faces. Man must be saved, but I worry if their fear towards what they refuse to accept will cause their damnation."
"Such is the nature of man," Bruce replied.
She turned to him, puzzled. "Why do you say it in such a way?"
"What way?"
"As if you are not one of them."
Bruce turned back towards their party, who now only consisted of a waiting James Gordon and Robin. He knew not how to respond to Diana, so he left her without a response.
Richard: Chapter 21
"Are you sure about this?"
"Yes, Batman, your people are safe, but there are others that remain in danger. With Lord Tywin's army marching north to face the Starks, so many lives lay in peril when the two meet. Amazons are bred to be warriors, so I must go, and fight to defend the innocent. Not so different from your own fate it would seem," Diana said as she reared her horse towards the gate.
The sun had set, and Diana was to leave for the Riverlands. She would follow Tywin's army up to the Neck where war would surely break, should Tyrion not be returned.
"Thank Lord Wayne for me, Alfred Pennyworth. Granted I never saw your lord's face," she addressed.
Alfred smiled and nodded, "Of course Princess, apologies for my lord's absence. Rebuilding the city has seen him quite busy."
Finally Diana turned to Gordon, Sarah Essen stood behind him. "Ser Gordon, may you continue to look after this city with the vigilance and careful eye of Artemis."
"Who?"
"One of my gods, you wouldn't be familiar with them Ser. Lady Sarah, continue to show what women can do when faced with undefeatable opposition," Diana smiled.
Sarah simply bowed her head.
"There may be hope for your kind yet. My mother is wrong about man, and the people of this kingdom. They can do great things. With a strong mind guiding them." She turned to Batman.
"Until we meet again Batman, perhaps next time we meet I can train you how to properly wield a sword," she shouted with a smirk as her horse departed from the city square. She rode out through the main gates, and into the great world beyond them as the sun dipped behind the earth.
Dick wished she had remained in Gotham longer, like Arya, or Clark, but it seemed any traveler that came to Gotham was given the gift of a departure, save for himself. He had become a resident of Gotham, and served as its protector now. He was bound to Gotham, and could not chase Tywin to the North, or go out and find his purpose like Clark, or return home with his father as Arya did. Gotham was a part of him, just as much as he was a part of it.
As they rode back to the castle, Dick felt the growing urge to ask, "Teaching you how to wield a sword…was she…?"
"No, it was a taunt, not a form of teasing or interest. Don't look into things when they are not there Robin."
"We're in the woods now, I think we can drop the names," he replied, noting Batman's quick dodging of the question.
"Not until we're in the cave. Now quickly, we have too much to do," his mentor ordered.
Aside from the repair, there was still Nigma on the loose, the means of how Jaime Lannister was freed, and the mysterious pair of attackers that that fought before Alfred and Lucius the night of Tywin's raid. Alfred and Lucius swore the first assassin had queer crossbows attached to his arms, and an odd red eye piece on his silver helmet. The second intruder was hidden in the shadows for some time before the first assassin even arrived, and was cloaked so they never saw his face.
Joker had not been heard of for quite some time either. A day after the four crime leaders' heads were found on Gordon's doorstep, a massive pile of Lannister corpses were found on the beach with a parchment stabbed into one of the corpses reading The Rains of Joker.
Now there was Nigma, the silver helmeted assassin, the cloaked stranger, and Joker and his small army running freely through the city. No leads had been discovered of any of their locations, or even that a silver helmeted assassin had been seen in any other part of the city.
The next night, a raven came to Wayne Castle's tower. These would be dark words indeed. Most ravens flew to Gordon's central keep, giving news from the capitol, or other cities. After Bruce's parents' deaths and Bruce's departure, most ravens had been trained to fly for the keep. A rare few however, still knew to fly for the castle. Those ones were sent for King's decrees, or important deaths.
As Dick and Bruce sat in their chairs, waiting for Alfred to deliver the message, a dark air settled over the room. A foreboding essence, almost as if a dark spirit had passed into the study and permeated its anger and hate throughout Bruce and Dick's blood. They sat for what felt like hours since Alfred ran out to fetch the message, but their eternity ended as they heard the footsteps echo down the corridor. The doors did not burst apart, but slowly opened, as Alfred entered with the saddest expression Dick had ever seen upon the old Dornishman's face.
"Alfie…" Dick cautiously sighed after moments of silence.
Alfred stood straight and ran his finger and thumb through his moustache as he took in a deep breath. "Apologies, Master Richard, I did not mean to make you worry. The news…the word is, the king is dead."
Bruce's eyes opened wide in shock. "How?" The Lord of Gotham demanded.
"Wounded by a boar while hunting. There's more…I'm afraid."
"Ned…" Bruce uttered.
Arya… Dick thought.
"Lord Stark has been imprisoned, for betrayal of the crown. Apparently he moved to take the throne from Robert's rightful heir…Prince Joffrey. I'm so sorry Master Bruce," Alfred exhaled.
"Don't be sorry for me Alfred, give your pity to them. Where is he?" Bruce ordered as he stood, a fiery rage burning in his glare.
"He's being held in the black cells. Why do you ask?" A troubled expression was on Alfred's face, not one of pain for the king or Ned, but of worry for Bruce.
"Ready my horse Alfred, have Lucius prepare supplies. Batman rides for King's Landing."
"And Robin!" Dick shouted leaping to his feet.
Bruce shook his head and knelt. He gripped Dick's shoulders, the anger gone from his eyes, now replaced with concern. "No, Dick, you must stay here. I know I have spoken these words to you before, and each time you have disobeyed, but this is not a similar situation. You saved Arya yes, and you helped save the city. But King's Landing is so much more dangerous than this place. Not with swords or arrows you can see, but with whispers and orders you cannot. Alliances held in secret spread like a ripple in the water, and spies lie in every brick of the city. For this mission, you must remain here. I have trained you to fight the weapons and enemies you can see, but not those you cannot. One day I will teach you to, but not this day. So for the sake of Gotham and yourself, you must stay here."
Dick's fists were clenched in anger. Tears dotted the corner of his eyes. "But Arya, I must protect her again. She needs me to save her."
"I know she does Dick, but this time you must trust me to save the one you care about, as I trust you to defend the one I do," Bruce spoke softly. Dick knew he meant Alfred, but still, Dick burned to help Bruce, and to save Arya. She was his friend, and he would not let any harm befall her.
"Do you trust me to save her?" Bruce asked.
Dick said nothing, simply nodded, holding back his tears as best he could.
"It's settled then, Alfred prepare my horse. I'll leave as soon as I can. I must use a disguise to pass through the gates so no one suspects Lord Wayne or Batman have left the city. And-"
Before Bruce could finish Lucius ran into the room. Bewilderment was on his face. "You may want to see this," he exhaled in a shocked, pleased tone.
As they stood in the tower of Wayne Castle staring out at the city, a bright orange light glared back. It rose up from the heart of the city, standing tall against the dark of night.
"What is it?" Dick asked.
"A call, lad," Lucius replied.
"That's from Gordon's keep," Bruce affirmed. "He needs me."
Dick looked up to Bruce in an angered shock. "Arya needs you more. She could be kidnapped, or worse!"
"I know Dick, I want nothing more than to ride for King's Landing, but if Gordon has gone so far as to light a giant fire to summon me, then it must be urgent. Alfred, make the preparations, I'll leave when I return. Dick, let's go."
They armored themselves and rode out towards Gotham. Batman and Robin rushed through the forest, the news of their dead king and friends in trouble hanging low over their spirits. They needed to act quickly, every minute that Bruce delayed was one more that Arya laid in danger from the Lannisters.
Dick and Bruce weren't the only two possessed by a somber feeling. The entire city seemed abandoned. They passed only a handful of smallfolk, and saw many closed doors and windows. It wasn't just Dick fearing for the future, but all of Gotham now hid itself away while the future of Westoros began to cloud. Most had surely heard the news by now of their King's death, odds are simply from word of mouth, but it was still powerful enough to garner such a severe reaction. With the king dead, his despicable son on the throne, and Tywin marching north to face the Northerners in battle, the kingdom's future seemed so precariously balanced that a single man's fate could tip the balance. As Dick rode behind Bruce's black horse and gazed upon his mentor pushing himself so tirelessly beyond the boundaries of ordinary men, he felt he knew what man would be the one to tip the scales.
When they neared Gordon's keep, the fire slowly grew a shape. From the distant tower it was nothing but a glowing ember amongst the dark of the city, but now it had a form. A long twisted metal pole rose up from the rooftops, easily stretching the height of three men. A fire followed up the spiraled metal until it reached its top, a massive outline of a bat cut in metal. The fire blew out from behind it as if the metal creature's wings were aflame. The symbol looked rather close to the simplistic outline of a bat on Bruce's chest.
As they scaled the turret and stood upon its roof, the heat emitting from the massive structure was blinding. The metal spire rose up from the center of the keep, between its three turrets. James Gordon stood with his back to the fire, his figure glowing in its light.
"I'd make a guess you've heard the news?"
"The king is dead and Lord Stark's been arrested for treason," Bruce replied quickly in his grizzled voice.
"Aye, and that blonde haired little shit of a son of his sits the throne now. The lot of us are fucked. Now a Lannister sits the throne, a Stark arrested for treason, and the Starks and Lannisters are on the brink of war. It doesn't smell right though. Lord Stark would never commit treason. Honor practically pours from his pores. He's like to kill a babe before committing treason. The whole mess smells of lies and deceit," Gordon said as he brushed his fingers through his hair.
"I didn't come here to debate politics, why did you summon me?" Bruce pressed.
James turned back to look at the massive metal structure behind him. "Oh this? Had every smith in the city put to work on this the day after Tywin left. Figured I'd need a way to contact you should the city need you again. Like it? Simply line a rope doused in oil along the spiral up to the pyre behind the bat and there you have it, a bat signal, if you will."
Dick stood in awe at the massive metal tower, but knew they needed to rush, and didn't have time to congratulate Gordon on his ingenuity. "We need to hurry," he told Gordon.
James looked from one to the other of the two masked strangers in front of him and sighed. "Very well, we think we know where Nigma's hiding. There's an old small sept from the older part of Gotham near Arkham. We've received word a mysterious figure in a cloak has been seen coming and going at night. Have you heard what they've been saying on the street? Seems he's taken after Joker. Titled himself the Riddler, or some such nonsense similar to it."
"I know the place," Bruce spoke.
"Right, well I figured I'd let you sneak in first, see if you can catch him unawares. He'd surely hear me and my men coming. Just, don't lose him."
"I won't, not tonight." And with that, Bruce and Dick were on their way to the old abandoned portion of the city. Where Arya had been kidnapped and held months ago, and where Arkham Asylum stood with its Lannister soldiers hiding behind its walls and gates.
As they arrived at the old sept and dismounted, Dick noted something odd about the building. The sept was small by most sept's standards, housing no more than sixty or so people. What was queer though, was the seven small statues of the Seven that stood guard over the entrance. Each of their figures had been warped and worn down over time. Their clothes had lost their detail and now appeared smooth. Their hands lost their fingers and became stumps, and their faces lost their noses and eyes and were now nearly flat masks of their former expressions.
Bruce took steps towards the entrance which alarmed Dick. "Shouldn't we sneak in? What if he hears us coming?"
"Good, he won't outrun me," Bruce sternly replied as he passed through the old metal doors and into the sept.
The interior was a large bowl of a room. The stairs descended down in a cascading waterfall of stone steps in a massive circle leading to a large structure in its center. There was a raised platform with seven points, and a small pedestal with one of the Seven on it. Smallfolk would come here to pray to their gods when they were in times of need.
The upper parts of the bowl-like chamber had wooden rafters and boardwalks throughout it, all shrouded in shadows. Perhaps the sept was under repair when it was suddenly abandoned.
Seven candles were lit at the pedestal of each statue, giving the room its only light. So much of the room remained hidden in shadow, giving Nigma plenty of places to hide or plot an attack.
"Nigma, show yourself. Bring this fool's errand to an end, and I will only beat you within two breaths of your life instead of one!" Bruce called out to the dark recesses above.
An echoed voice called back in the high, arrogant pitch of Edward Nigma's voice, "Batman, I was beginning to question how long it would take you to find me. I must say I am disappointed it had taken you this long."
Dick spun around, trying to find the source of the sound, but failing. He raised his escrima sticks, poised to strike at a moment's notice.
"You're a hard man to find Nigma, or would you prefer this title Riddler, I have heard you have taken for yourself?"
Dick stood with his sticks at the ready, but Batman remained neutral. His eyes darted about the shadows of the rafters, looking for any sign of movement.
Then the voice called back, this time in a much deeper voice. The arrogant tone was lost, replaced with an inquisitive inflection. "What is your purpose Batman?"
"I don't have time for your damn riddles Nigma, now show yourself, or I will make your life very painful to continue on living," Bruce threatened.
A man stepped out of the shadowed corner behind them. Bruce spun, three bat knives between his fingers ready to fly. The man did not wear the green dressings of Edward Nigma, nor did he have his fiery orange hair. Instead, the man wore a dark blue overcoat with a yellow doublet underneath. A matching pair of blue trousers covered his legs, and his raven dark hair was slicked back beneath an odd hat with a raised brim in the back and a flat, pointed front. Dick had heard of such odd fashions from the East, but the stranger's queerest feature was his face, or lack of one. Where eyes should have stood gazing back at them, there was only skin. Where a nose should have sprouted out, there was merely a raised ridge. Where lips should have laid parted for words to come forth, there was nothing. The man had no face, only a fleshy mask remained.
As the stranger stood gazing at them with sunken pits where eyes should have been, he spoke with a mouth he did not have, "It was not a riddle Batman, but a question."
The Scaled Killer:
The water felt good on his skin. The cold murky waters wrapped around him like a blanket, comforting him. Waylon always felt more at home in the water than on the land, one of the characteristics that had led to his nickname. The idiots thought they were so clever, but they were truly fools. Weak, pathetic fools that could be snapped like twigs quicker than they could scream.
Waylon reached the shore and slowly trudged out of the water and onto the beach. Splintered wood laid around him in shambles, the skeletons and remnants of ships past. The sand too felt good beneath his feet. It crumbled in his wake, as his colossal footprints left behind a path for any who saw to fear. He had returned to his home, after so many years away.
Soon the sandy beach gave way to a stony edge, where the grass slowly picked up until it became as dense as if it were its own sea. The long green blades too, gave way to Waylon's presence. Once he reached the road, he gazed up the hill, as the path from this point out became a rising and dipping lane of gravel and stone towards the main castle.
The wind rushed past him, buffeting off his hard skin. He wore only some faded and torn trousers, his chest bared to the world. It didn't take long for him to be discovered, as a couple rode towards him on horseback. Once they laid eyes on him, the woman screamed in terror, the man reached for his sword.
"What form of beast are you?" He called out, pushing his horse to stand between his woman and Waylon.
Waylon merely chuckled as he continued his slow trudge forward. The man kicked his horse into a gallop as he charged. With a single swipe of his massive hand, the horse was on the ground screaming from a wounded leg. The fool had been thrown forward into the ground. Waylon approached the beast, wrapped his hands around its neck, and snapped it. Then, he turned towards where the man lay on the ground clasping his knee.
"Back monster, please, I'll give you whatever you desire. You can have our gold, we have ten gold pieces there in my satchel. Take them, and whatever else you desire," he begged, changing from a strong courageous voice to a weak, broken one.
Waylon was not moved, and continued on towards the man. His shadow eclipsed the sun as he stood over the wounded coward.
"Please, what do you want? What is it you need?"
Waylon smirked. "I'm hungry."
The woman screamed as if it were her own life Waylon took, as he ripped the man's head from his neck with a single hand. She spun her horse around and rode back up the path from which she just came. As Waylon turned to watch her, he laughed. Breaking one of the dead craven's arms off, he continued on his way, now with a refreshing snack to slack his hunger.
People had always run in terror at Waylon's appearance. When he was born, he was believed to be a monster sent to curse the parents. He was a spawn of incest, his mother being a sister to the father. They had fallen in love at a young age, and refused to wed any other soul. Ultimately, their love killed them. As soon as they were discovered with their monster of a child, they were tossed into the sea. The child was saved, only on the kindness of one man. The man took pity on the babe, and said that their god had a path that the boy must walk.
The man called what Waylon was ailed with, Greenscale. Off in the east, in Essos, there was a cursed disease called Greyscale. The disease caused the person's flesh to turn stiff and dead. The skin became cracked and black like stone, and would inevitably consume the entire body.
Greenscale differed in that it was not fatal. Waylon's flash was thicker than most, and his skin was not splintered and black like stone, but scaled and a dark green like the hide of a lizard lion, or as they were titled in Essos, crocodiles. His belly was lighter in color, a pale fleshy mix of gold and man's normal pink hue. These scales were softer than the hard, ridged spines of his back and limbs. His head grew no hair, his eyes were yellow with blackened slits like a serpent, and his nose was barely there, two holes for nostrils in its place.
Waylon Jones was a behemoth of a man. Standing well over seven feet tall, with arms and legs as thick as most men were round. He never wore boots, as his feet were thick of hide enough to survive stepping on even broken glass without injury. The nails of his toes and fingers had grown out, hard as bone, and were sharpened to points. Years ago, he had done the same to his teeth, making them razor edged diamonds that could tear through flesh like a knife through milk. Swords could barely cut his skin, spears stood little chance of piercing his hide. He was a walking monster bred for battle and bloodshed.
As he rose up over the last hill, at last he was at the gates. The castle had been in view ever since he left the water, the three tall spires piercing into the sky were impossible to miss even from leagues out to sea. The three towers of Pyke stood out amongst the graying sky. The sun only ever came out for a few hours at most during the day, as the clouds ceaselessly rolled over the Iron Islands as they rushed across the sea.
A group of armored men waited at the gates, spears in hand. Waylon wiped the blood from his lips, not wanting to make a bad first impression.
One of the guards crept closer, his shield emblazoned with the golden kraken of the Greyjoys.
"W-What are you?"
Waylon chuckled. "I'm a hungry traveler, and unless you wish to be my next meal, I would let me pass."
Before the man could reply, a voice called out from the wall above. "He's an ironborn, let him through!"
Waylon recognized the voice, but not the face. As the guards moved to the side, all gripped with fear, the gates opened. The woman passed between them and out to greet Waylon. She had a sharp nose, and lean, longer face. Her eyes were calm and piercing, and shorter dark brown hair surrounded her face in unruly waves.
"Asha Greyjoy, been a while since I saw you. Almost didn't recognize you," he jested.
She stopped a few paces in front of him, her hand on the hilt of her axe at her belt. "Then how did you?"
"Heh, the blood of lords and royalty always smells…sweeter."
The woman stared at him, unmoved by the jape. "What are you doing here Waylon, you were banished."
"Even now, you're still one of only two to use my true name. I have come home after so many years away and you throw questions at me. Where's the Crow's Eye?" He asked.
He noticed the soldiers to the side shy even farther away at the mention of the name.
Asha blinked, "He remains in exile. As you should have done."
He chuckled, "You're all fools. You know the Northerners are to be at war with the Lannisters, aye?"
"Of course, we don't sit on this island with our thumbs in our asses."
"Sure you don't. You might as well, for it's more accomplishing than what you've been doing. What do you think will happen when one of them wins, eh? You think the kingdom just goes back to being the way it was? No. The war will continue, and more and more blood will be shed."
"You're the one that loves blood so much Waylon, why didn't you go there?"
"You don't get it do you? The Iron Islands are vulnerable. Should Joffrey deem it fit to send the fleets of all of his kingdoms against you, you'll be crushed," Waylon warned as he pressed past her. Knowing her axe would be useless, she decided to fall in line beside him. As they passed through the village, people everywhere screamed and ran and hid in their houses. But they all looked through window panes, or from their high up rooms off the ground in some assumed safety.
"Our fleets could destroy any sent against us. Iron Islanders are the greatest sailors in the world. Any ironborn could take two dozen plain men at sea," she boasted.
"Heh, you foolish krakens, always thinking you're undefeatable. You know where that landed us ten years ago? Defeat. Crushing, humiliating defeat. You can't beat all of them. The Crow's Eye is gone to the wind, the mighty Victarion now merely sails up and down the coast, attacking weak ships when he cares to. And your great and noble lord father sits upon the seaweed throne of the Iron Islands simply bruising his ass and graying his hair. Balon Greyjoy, ruler of the Iron Islands, what a folly," Waylon scoffed.
"What would you have us do?"
Waylon looked down at the girl. He was nearly three heads taller than her, and years older. "Prepare, little lady, I would have you lot prepare."
Her brow piqued. "You were banished, why do you care so much for what happens to us?"
"I don't, I'm just hungry," he said as he turned and left her.
"My father will send men after you when he hears you're within the walls!" She called out.
"Let him, you heard me, I'm hungry," he grunted back.
He walked through the village, being humored by the smallfolks' reaction. He knew the man he sought would be in the castle. As he walked up the stone pathway to the castle, three dozen armored men flooded out of the gates. All wielding spears, pointed at Waylon's heart.
"Stay where you are!" One shouted.
Waylon chuckled and continued pressing forward. Just as he was but five paces from the first of the fools, a familiar voice ordered, "Stand down!"
Waylon gazed up, and met eyes with his supposed savior. "Damphair, you've aged well."
The older man hobbled down to where Waylon stood, parting the guards. "Come, we have much to discuss."
As Waylon followed, he thought of the man who had saved his life all those years ago as a baby. Aeron Greyjoy was once a great warrior, but after the failed Greyjoy Rebellion, he had thrown down his weapons and took up prayer. Now he served as priest to the Drowned God, the god of the Iron Islands. His nose was almost beak-like, and he stood a tall and lean man. His hair and beard were long and reached down to his waist. Seaweed was woven into it in strands. The man smelled of the salt sea, a refreshing scent to Waylon.
Once they reached a side room, Aeron closed and locked the door. He sat at the table, but Waylon chose to stand as most chairs gave way under his weight.
"Why did you summon me here Aeron?" He asked.
The Damphair sighed, "I'm sorry Waylon, I know you wished not to return, but I have need of you, the Drowned God, needs you."
Waylon spat. "I have no care for what your god of the sea desires Aeron. Why now?"
"You were sent away for the heinous crimes of cannibalism and killing of your fellow Ironborn. As I see from the blood on your teeth, they are crimes you committed yet again this day."
With a shrug he replied, "I was hungry."
Aeron sighed and continued. "I had a vision, months past, when I first called for you to return. The oceans were turned to blood, and the islands were drowned beneath them."
"So? What does that have to do with me?" Waylon owed the man much for saving his life, but thus far his return home was pointless.
"You were in the dream, Waylon."
"Me? Doing what?"
Aeron rubbed his brow. "The Iron Islands need you Waylon. The Greyjoys need the Killer Croc."
So now two more DC characters enter the fray! Along with the Iron Islands! Needless to say I'm excited for what I have planned with Croc, and look forward to hearing more from Bruce and Dick's visitor next upload. As always, I appreciate any reviews and welcome any new readers and followers!