usir | The Calm Before the Storm Mini-Event


🜙 By the Sea

	With the return of life to the bay the waters are once more shimmering, flashing, rippling and splashing with all manner of sea life. Dolphins perform acrobatic leaps and dances out in the deeper waters, fish dart in and out of the waves, following them to the shore and retreating with them. Near the Sunset Gate leading out into the Glass Sea the waving sail fins of small sea serpents or hunting flying fish can be seen breaking the surface before disappearing into or out of the bay. The docks of Didymos are loud with cheerful songs and shouts as fishermen and merchants work together to load or unload the Didymos fleet of fishing ships, and the sudden influx of fish causes the previously quiet, hungry city to erupt back into vibrant life practically overnight. As Didymos dives back into renewed daily life, spectators observe the city from the edges of the bay, sneaking closer to shore in the hours of dusk and dawn, studying the people and the boats but not interfering unless specifically engaged. If those who encounter them react with hostility, the merfolk respond in kind, attacking with water magic, spears, or weighted nets and throwing weapons made of lashed-together shark teeth. If they do not sense hostility, however, they quietly and curiously mimic the actions, facial expressions, and rough sounds of those who make eye contact or try to speak to them.

🜙 Return to Einjar Preparations

	After the volunteers have taken the oath, King Sitka introduces a tall, dark-haired elf to the group as Ser Medraut, Expedition Leader and Lead Commander of the Krimnos Knights. Medraut and Sitka explain what happened on the last trip to Einjar and caution that they do not know what to expect with this excursion, only that things have gotten more dangerous in the mountains since the last trip and they need to get to the root of the problem before whatever happened to Einjar happens to Preciposte or Krimnos. Following the briefing, the volunteers are given rooms in a currently unused inner wall barracks, should they wish to take them. They can temporarily live together in this space and be provided with food, armor, weaponry, clothing, small personal rooms, warm showers, and anything they might request to bring along on the mission, as well as the opportunity to get to know the others who will be with them. The knights do not remain in the same area, returning to their own barracks on the other side of the gate. Those under oath are able to discuss the mission or anything else freely with each other and can find maps and the plans to the new airships at their disposal.


🜙 The Travelers

	On the night of the full moon the moon rises an unsettling pinkish-red in the sky. Normally this offset hue isn't paid much heed but with the call of more werewolves in the air, the color only adds to the general air of unsettled discomfort permeating every corner and cabin in and around the city. Once again Koroc is no where to be seen, and once again the defenders keep the unified pack of attacking werewolves at bay. In the days following the full moon, the surrounding wildlands and the city streets are disturbingly quiet. Many residents of the city forego their day to day activities in favor of hiding in their homes and the Defenders seem to be the only ones patrolling the streets. Until a few days after the full moon when a large caravan of boats arrives from the North floating down the river into the canal streets. The boats are covered in colorful canopies and the people who emerge from them are a mixture mainly of humans, beastfolk, arboreons, satyrs, and tieflings with a few dwarves and kobolds tagging along. They wouldn't normally be an unusual sight, their garb giving off the familiar impression of the traveling merchants, except that the city is meant to be closed off to anyone entering during this crisis and the traveling merchants don't usually arrive for spring trading until May. The Defenders seem confused by their sudden appearance. Their attempts to bar the strangers from entering the city are met with passive responses as towering arboreons lift them up to set them aside or dwarves duck under their arms and weapons to continue on without breaking step or their current conversations. They speak with thick mountain accents and wear brightly colored clothing. The unusual group makes their way toward the still standing fixture of the Immortal Duke carrying large barrels and casks they proudly proclaim to be wines or ale. Gifts from the North. As they pass through the streets windows and doors open and the eyes of the city follow their paths. The boats in the canals are left tied and unguarded and curious winged cats quickly overtake the colorful playgrounds. They are soon joined by inquisitive children and brave city dwellers wanting to learn more about the guests who seem so unperturbed by the city's unwelcoming display. During the night a large, central section of the warcamp is set on fire by a volley of arrows from outside the city and the resultant spread and destruction of fire through the warcamp absorbs much of the Defenders' forces and attention. During the resulting chaos the Duke's front doors are flung open and the sound of raucous laughter and merriment spill out of the old building's creaking doors and windows, drawing in even more spectators and curious folk. A smaller group of Defenders rally to seemingly storm the Duke armed with torches and weapons, but despite shouted demands for them to set the building alight for harboring the rebellion they make no move to attack it, enchanted by magic older than the rebuilt city that prevents those with intent to kill the patrons or destroy the Duke from lifting a hand or claw against the once favored drinking grounds of King Ioanrí. Eventually, Dervish arrives and orders the Defenders back to the warcamp to help with the fires Inside the Immortal Duke the casks and barrels are nowhere to be seen but it seems Lorna is footing the bill for any and all drinks, food, or beds claimed by any patrons of the old tavernkeep for the evening. She can be seen having a cheerful conversation with a dwarf woman at one of the upper-level tables, but neither move to join the festivities below. An unusual satyr with striped legs carrying an unfamiliar instrument and an avian beastfolk with very colorful plumage sing unfamiliar songs by the fire. The strangers seem eager to talk to anyone willing to listen. If asked where they come from their response is vague but forthcoming: Either Over the mountains. or Far, Far Away

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There's faint amusement as she watches the merfolk continue to mimic Robb. One even makes to puff out his chest once Robb stands. Sassy things, aren't they? Reason enough to like them even more.

"That was before, wasn't it?" Now she cuts him a look, noticing he's watching her. "People can change."

The moment her eyes met his, he ducked his head, glancing back out across the water. Another was trying to mimic his brooding expression, though he could see it being closer to Jon's than his own. He grinned, feeling a bit lighter at her side, the darker thoughts easing away. "Do you want to try, my lady? Be my guest."

He might joke about it, but if she did try, he'd make the first move in her place. Whether or not she was Jon's lady, he wasn't about to put someone in danger. "Do we?"

"Have you never seen an elf before, ser?" Not an admonishment, not even close. Whatever he found interesting to examine on her--her ears, most likely--obviously can't be a bad thing, if he's not pointing it out. She smoothes her palms down along the front of her skirts, then motions for the merfolk watching them to come closer. "We'll add that to the list with you never meeting a Targaryen, as well."

There's not much further she can walk on the dock, so it's a matter of whether the merfolk will oblige. So far, the one mimicking Robb is waving back at her.

"All the time we do. Look at the cities now and how different they are from our memories."

"Aye," but none like you. The words are on the tip of his tongue, struggling to slip free, but his wife's face flashed in his mind, reining in whatever flirtations he might take part in. "It's your hair." He said instead, feeling it was at least a safer subject. "The color is different from what I've seen." He could say he found it beautiful, just as she was, but that wasn't right either.

As she moved along the dock, he fell into step alongside her. He had no bow, so there was no way to fight back against the merfolk, if they tried to pull them beneath the waters. But it was better not to be armed, if only because they wouldn't find them to be threats.

"Men don't change. We're all beasts at heart."

"My hair," she repeats. Well isn't he an interesting one? Very few are so keen on outright telling her what's strange to their eye. Jon likes my hair, she nearly retorts, unsure why the thought even comes to mind. Since when does she feel the need to explain anything of herself to a stranger? "All Targaryens have hair this color. It's because we're Valyrian elves."

At least he keeps in step with her. Truthfully, she might prefer speaking of her hair than hearing such jaded talk.

It earns him a sharp look over her shoulder. "Literally, ser?"

Dangerous grounds, Dany. Just because one brother was a shiftling doesn't mean another will be. She shouldn't be fishing for that information.

He nodded, as though that was the only reason he mentioned it. He heard of the Valyrian elves, but never saw one before. In the end, it wasn't why she caught his notice and he didn't want to clarify that either. Saying that it was beautiful, that she was as well, he'd leave that for Jon. But it wasn't something he could deny as it was.

He was unapologetically jaded. Too much war and brutality had left its impression in him.

"I'm not a ser anymore." He replied simply. It didn't answer her question and it wasn't something he was eager to clarify. The secret was a deadly one in his experience.

She stops. Turns to look at him with both hands falling to her hips. Not foolish enough to miss his non-answer, but instead, Dany focuses on the claim he makes. No longer a ser? No longer a knight? It's not a duty one abandons happily.

...Ser Barristan and Jorah were vivid reminders of that. They would always be her knights, no matter what befell them.

Lifting her chin, a brow, she asks, "Is that what you want?"

"Does it matter what I want?" He responded with a small shake of his head. He didn't look at her, but instead across the horizon. Even the merpeople fell out of his focus. His mind was locked on the past and couldn't shake free of it.

He ceded all right to the title with his actions. If his father knew, he would be disappointed with him, something that stung far worse than death.

"I broke my vows. I have no right to the title."

"Why wouldn't it matter?" What is it with Stark men and their gravity? Surely he and Jon didn't feed off one another as children.

Even if he did carry that brooding drama a few men in her life seemed to prefer. Like must attract like, but really, with not knowing why he's so averse to being called a knight, it does seem unnecessarily grim.

"You've been brought back like the rest of us. We've all made mistakes--perhaps this is your chance to fix some of them."

"I don't know if I want to be forgiven for my actions." Fix or atone, it always lead to some form of forgiveness. He wasn't ready for that yet, not with Jeyne so clear in his mind and the screams of that night. His mother, his wife, his brother. He couldn't let that go yet and accept the title, as though nothing had changed.

"Why?" He finally looked over at her, his face pained. "Why were we brought back?" For the war, yes. He knew that and knew their reasoning, but why him when there were good men that fell at his side. Why not his mother or wife instead?

"It doesn't matter what I want." He muttered again.

"I don't know why." That's not an answer she can give him. She's not the one who can forgive him--or offer the redemption he's seeking. Surely he must be, if he's still standing... even if he doesn't openly admit to it. "None of us know why we've been brought back."

Speaking of these things leaves her feeling exhausted. There's a specific reason she doesn't dwell on past mistakes, or her own deaths.

Turning away, she gazes out across the bay, to the merfolk watching them still. They're not teasing and having fun again, as if attuned to the upset of their discussion.

"Why are you walking now, standing, talking, if what you want doesn't matter?" There's a sharper note to her tone as she looks at him again. "We've all lost people--" And I would trade for any one of mine in an instant "--but you're here, with two of your family still living. And yet you're sulking over what you want and don't want.

"Do you intend on staring off into the waters for the rest of the time you live?"

He considers what to say, knowing that he is wallowing in self pity. It wasn't something that he meant to share with anyone, especially his family. Maybe it was because she was still a stranger to him that he could at least admit to his sins. He had no respect to lose with her.

"I'm the reason that my wife and mother were killed." That his goodbrother died. "I abandoned my post to take my troops to protect Winterfell, but they turned against us." He swallowed, still able to hear his mother's cry of anguish as he sank to the ground.

Maybe he was feeling sorry for himself, but he needed this time to grieve. Even having his brother and sister with him didn't remove the sting. It only left him with shame.

The Calm Before the Storm Mini-Event

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