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Post by Ser Gerik Connington on Nov 15, 2012 20:53:13 GMT -5
"I do not know if I'll be able to swing a sword again. Whether or not I'll think soundly ever again. I want Dornish blood. When I killed Lord Yronwood, I fucking laughed. They didn't like that and took me away. Now I'm back, and I know the Sun won't let me live again."
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Post by zeubercat on Nov 15, 2012 20:57:21 GMT -5
Gerold shook his head. "You'll come back, brother. It will be more painful than anything you have ever borne, and you will have to trudge through miles of relearning, but you can do it. Don't succumb to The Sun. You're Stronger."
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Post by Ser Gerik Connington on Nov 15, 2012 21:09:39 GMT -5
"Am I?" he barked. "I was delusional in the Sun Cells. I saw mother and father and you. I saw Lord Leo and Tarly and Fossoway. Highgarden in flames and the Mander dry. I cried then. I knew it was false, but I succumbed. I am weak."
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Post by zeubercat on Nov 15, 2012 21:47:02 GMT -5
"You think you succumbed?" Gerold smiled. "You're still standing here. You're still alive. You may be broken now, but you can be rebuilt. That's what the Maester is for."
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Post by Lord Tybolt Lannister on Nov 15, 2012 22:09:18 GMT -5
The Maester had stood aside while the brothers talked, but he approached now with a few drops of poppy mixed into a cup of sweet wine. "Here you are, Arthur. Not enough to put you to sleep, but more than enough to kill the pain." He helped him drink the wine down, then bowed to Gerold. "I'll leave you two, if that is your wish, my lord."
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Post by zeubercat on Nov 18, 2012 20:52:30 GMT -5
"Yes, please. Thank you, Maester." Gerold nodded as Falthwyn left the room. "You have me alone. What do you want to ask me?" He addressed Arthur.
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Post by Ser Gerik Connington on Nov 18, 2012 20:58:33 GMT -5
"Don't ask me to lead your men. That is not my wish. My wish is to shit on the ashes of Sunspear. I want Ulrick Sand's head." he looked him in the eye.
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Post by zeubercat on Nov 18, 2012 21:34:35 GMT -5
Gerold frowned once more, then cleared his throat.
"When I was traveling Westeros, I met this man on The Kingsroad. I was quite hungry, and he shared me some of his meal. Kindness is a rare quality in the wilderness. Anyway, we sat on our log, eating salt pork, and he told me, he spun me this story. He was young, a farmer's boy who worked hard and did his job, and one day, when the war came to them, a Tyrell Knight name Beric came to their farm, chopped his sister's head off, and killed his old father, leaving the crops to burn. Being a young, able-armed man, he was enlisted in Leobald's Army, and carefully followed the man who had destroyed his entire life. He stalked him for months, then years during the war, waiting for the perfect time to strike. He was a resourceful man. He could have ran away, disappeared into the wilderness. But he didn't. He endured the agony of war, because he truly, to the bottom his heart, wanted revenge. One day, the time finally came, and he trapped Beric in a barn, and burnt him alive. He told me, he told me that it had felt so good, so satisfying, that nothing in the world could possibly, ever compare, but the feeling vanished as quickly as it came, because he had nowhere to go. He had pursued his goal for so many years, that he didn't know what to do afterward. He was lost, and when I found him, he wasn't any different, an old man filled with pain and remorse. Do not pursue revenge, Brother. It will only bring you suffering."
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Post by Ser Gerik Connington on Nov 18, 2012 21:37:02 GMT -5
(Fuck man, right in the feels. Well, I'll respond to that tomorroe morning since I'm tired)
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Post by zeubercat on Nov 18, 2012 21:39:14 GMT -5
(OK, Cool. See you tomorrow.)
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Post by Ser Gerik Connington on Nov 19, 2012 16:15:11 GMT -5
"Beric Flowers by any chance, brother? I knew him, a vicious man in combat and out. He'd boasted of his wartime efforts. The rapes, the murders, everything. I planned to kill him myself. Unfortunately, him and several of his cronies left camp before I could do it." he sighed. "I would love, absolutely love, to see you spend two years in the Sun Cells and come out sane."
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Post by zeubercat on Nov 19, 2012 19:03:43 GMT -5
Gerold tapped his fingers on the table. "You think I'm a pasty-faced bookworm who couldn't lift a sword or take a blow if his life depended on it. You think I wouldn't last a day in The Sun Cells. Think again. You know nothing of what I've been through, or what I've done. I've been Across The Sea and Beyond The Wall. I've seen visions in the flames and dark things in the woods. Your strength counted for nothing in The Sun Cells. All your training, all your skill with the blade were powerless against the heat. What mattered was your strength of will. And you don't have any." He turned around and began to pace, imitating Arthur's voice.
"What do you know about me? My will is unbreakable! But it isn't. You whore, you drink, you gamble away your money. You can't even control your most basic of desires. Your will," Gerold picked up a cracker.
"Is flimsy." He snapped it in half, popping it in his mouth.
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Post by Ser Gerik Connington on Nov 19, 2012 19:11:00 GMT -5
He lunged out and grabbed his brother by the collar. Some of his old muscle returned and he used it. He pulled his face close. "My will." he spat. "Normally, men don't last a little over a month in those fucking cells. They threw some Brax boy in with me. I ripped out his throat to save him the pain. I don't care where you've been, because it doesn't fucking matter. It only matters what you have done." He released his brother.
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Post by zeubercat on Nov 19, 2012 19:23:36 GMT -5
Gerold calmly chewed his cracker slowly, deliberately swallowing it with a slight smile. "What I have done. What I have done. I've done things that would make you shiver. While you were murdering little boys off in Dorne, I was doing work, planting seeds, all over Westeros. When the time is right they shall spring from the ground. And I don't believe you. A strong-willed man would be able to look past his blinding rage. You haven't even gotten over your hate for me."
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Post by Ser Gerik Connington on Nov 19, 2012 19:31:44 GMT -5
"Isn't it strange that Father took ill so quick all those years ago. It's like the sickness that took Jon Arryn." he stood, towering over his brother. "I don't hate you, brother. I don't particularly like you." He picked up a knife, honed so sharp it would cut at the slightest touch. He pricked his thumb, drawing a ball of blood. "Ever kill a man, Gerold? It's easy, that's why it's so dangerous. An arrow to the eye, an axe to the head, a maester's knife to the heart."
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