Visenya Targaryen (293 AC)

Once, she had been so afraid, so angry at the world, so lost. She had been different once, she knew that, she knew who she used to be, even as Maron showed her what would have happened to who she used to be. What she would have done to her little sister, how she would have betrayed the trust and charge that their mother had placed on her to look after Dany. It sickened her and frightened her to this day, even as she moved, practicing her strikes and sword play. Oh, to be sure, she was different than what she used to be, but the women of her family were warriors as oft as not.

Or at least, they were in story and song. In practice, as they lost their dragons, things had been less and less sure for their house and they had gotten more and more mundane. Less exceptional. That was a truth that annoyed her, even as she made sure to practice, to hone her edge and skill. She would never be a proper knight and yet there was the question, as she made a gesture, as she murmured the words, of why she would ever want to be?

No, she would become a mage-knight, a protector and defender of her sister! To be sure, at least some of it was to be beside Maron as he did some of his adventures, given what he had promised that they would be doing soon. But, she side stepped the blow from the bellowing brute, her blade flickering, dancing up to impale him as she coated it with a thin layer of fire, to better part flesh and cook the brute from the inside out as she laughed. Claim she was a whore would he? "Fool, Maron is the only man that can take me!"

She sneered, as she stepped, as she channeled the power, anklets chiming as she simply was not in the press of sweaty male bodies, instead being outside the press of men so desperate for a womans touch that they would burn, lips parting as she breathed, flames billowing out with a roaring word, loins quivering with need and excitement as she unleashed her power and cackled. Oh, how they thrashed and screamed, throwing themselves overboard, harried by others wielding blades (though none as deadly and graceful as she) or arrow shots...

And of course, Maron himself, laughing as he darted about, gutting and beheading the pirates with ease, coating their deck of their ship red with blood. And so, with a grin and a laugh, she darted into her prey, the cowards scattering before the dragon! After all, if she gathered the most kills, or the most impressive ones, then surely he would give her a reward suitable for her royal status, would he not?

Though of course, this little run in with pitiful men was a shake down voyage. Something to blood and test them, to see who would be going with him into the Doom. And she would be found worthy.

Ora

Once, she had been destined to die in the fighting pits, a novelty and curiosity for the masters. And then she had been bought by one of the maddest men on the open seas. A magical man who was willing to offer her secrets and power the likes that could not be dreamed of. She could have gone free. She did not need to sleep with him. Yet, why would she have not? Her master, and she called him that in her heart, was wise and powerful... but strange.

Overly generous with certain kinds of gifts, with power. But she could not complain, as her blade fell, another shrieking phantom of ash and shadows bursting into blood and fire as the ashes settled onto the ground. For that generosity was what gave her and her new sisters the ability to fight the spirits of the unquiet dead in this blasted land, allowed them to breath the air and not be poisoned. It even allowed for places of rest and safety in their explorations once they carved out paths and laid the dead to rest. In several respects, this land was a graveyard whose residents could not rest.

A most profitable graveyard to be sure, but still a charnel house the size of a nation. And their lord was keeping them to the edges, in easy reach of the sea, of escape... and away from the Fourteen Flames. She was not particularly skilled in detecting and examining the subtle aspects of magic, and yet even even she could feel the sullen and burning malevolence that lurked inside of the great fore mountains, of the lurking and sleeping presences in the cracks leading from said great peaks.

No, best to stick to the mansions and estates far from there, even if Visenya was eager to 'reclaim the old glories.' Ora shook her head, as there were plenty to reclaim out here. Already they had dozens of chests full of salvage, relics and books and precious metals, even clutches of dragon eggs that could very well be viable, though she had no way of knowing that personally. No, as they secured what they could, as they slew more of the wandering hordes of the dead and those suffering from Greyscale... she would merely do as she needed to to do.

She would leave glory for the others, even as she made plans for relaxing in the baths when all of this was done. She was not quite sure the soot would leave her skin.

Cai Fu

In several respects, being a translator was only one step removed from being a whore in the eyes of her countrymen. After all, a whore was merely a businesswoman, while a translator had to regularly deal with outsiders. Still, she bowed to the magistrate. "The Greyjoy thanks the honorable and wise magistrate for his understanding. And while merely a barbarian, he does wish to show his gratitude towards an official of the greatest empire and emissary of the one true sovereign."

At her words, a small chest, in and of itself of good craftsmanship, in placed down, opened to reveal a pipe made of jade in the shape of a true dragon, along with several bundles of herbs. "For he understands that the agreed on goods can take some time to be inspected and made ready from the warehouses, that he may show the superior merchandise to the fools of the sunset petty kingdoms. But he is thankful that a diligent soul shows this mercy to him."

Granted, Meng Kun was a fat and petty toad who lusted after all that had two legs and some of which walked on four and whose breath smelled like he regularly gargled rancid yak butter. So, as he reached out, only for Greyjoy to bristle, grumbling in that Westerosi speech of his? "Forgiveness Magistrate, but the Greyjoy has sworn oaths of protection for all in his employ. While it would greatly sour relationships, he would be required to visit great and terrible violence on any who touched those that belonged to him."

As Meng paled, she inwardly smirked. Even if she did not have access to one of the greatest libraries in all the world, even if she did not have the chance to learn the deeper mysteries... the mere fact that even the petty bullies and tyrants who had made her and her mothers lives hell had to step carefully around her now made many things worth it, as he all but fell over himself to apologize and give gifts in return.

Not bad for the daughter of a dockside whore.