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Posts posted by Bannon

  1. Bannon blinked, mildly astonished and humbled (not a familiar feeling) by Nymeria's words. A full smile broke out on his face, making it lose it's normally forbidding air and revealing his youth somewhat.

    "Your ladyship has no need to apologise for the likes of him." he said quietly. "But I'd be honored to accept your offer regardless." He glanced at the Red Keep ruefully. "I think today isn't the right day to join the gold cloaks with that lordling around."

  2. Bannon watched as the Princess rushed over to the 'boy' and the three knights became more hesitant, bowing to the royal. Bannon copied the gesture, somewhat clumsily and without dipping his head as was customary. As he straightened and the Lord decided to ignore his apology, the white-armoured Captain interceded, and the three knights were shooed away like troublesome boys. On hearing the Knight-Captain's caution, Bannon simply nodded his head politely, but said nothing. He feared no man, and had resolved not to since his twelfth birthday.

    He bent and picked up his bundle, hooking it over his free shoulder, and looked at Galiana in the Princess's embrace. "My thanks to you, young master." he rumbled with a faint smile visible under his beard. "That would have been an ill-omened encounter but for you."

  3. The expressions that crossed Bannon's face flickered rapidly: surprise, confusion, followed by annoyance (at having his fun interrupted), followed immediately by understanding and caution (as common sense chimed in and told him that here was a way out that wouldn't see him in a stocks or dungeon), followed lastly by a resigned expression that wasn't entirely feigned as he shouldered his axe once more, seeming to be disappointed (which he was) and a little embarrassed (which he wasn't).

    "Apologies, young master." he rumbled quietly, dark eyes meeting the mismatched gaze of the youth as he nodded his head in perfunctory subservience. "I misunderstood your instructions to me. I shall do better next time." Behind his practiced facade of 'lumbering oaf', Bannon was wondering who this young man was and why they had interceded. Simple good-heartedness? Or something more? He'd heard that the games of nobles and those that consorted with them were no place for a straightforward man. This boy was part of the Princess Nymeria's retinue, or at least so it seemed. Swallowing his bloodlust, he turned his eyes to Lord Bryant Harreck.

    "I wish no quarrel, milord. It would shame the Princess to have one of her retinue involved in a brawl. With that in mind, I..." he paused, having obvious difficulty getting the words out. He gritted his teeth slightly. "I withdraw my remark."

  4. "At your service, and as you wish, milord." The giant man turned, shrugging off his travelling bundle before bringing the axe down from his shoulders, the haft slapping into place into a palm the size of a man's head. A glint of fierce and terrible joy shone in the dark eyes as they looked into those of Lord Bryant.

    "Bannon is my name, and I have never known an easy lesson. Milord." The statement seemed unduly ominous as he readied the greataxe.

    Click to reveal..

    Intimidate check to demoralise opponent

    1d20=16 + 9 (Combat specialty) = 25

  5. Dark eyes studied the three knights as Bannon didn't bother to slow his steady walk across the bridge. Common sense and his place in the world dictated that he ignore the taunts. But it was something older than civilised mores and traditions that rose to the surface on silent fins.

    "Just showing the wares, Ser." He rumbled with an affable smile to the three as he came abreast of them. "That way, any lass that's tired of your sewing needle knows who to look for."

  6. Bannon thought over the older man's advice as he found an out of the way spot to prop himself and finish his lunch. A landsman, he wasn't sure a life at sea would suit him. Working as a protector for a whorehouse might be fine work, especially considering the fringe benefits his youthful mind was all too ready to imagine. But being a gold cloak, now... there was something. Something higher. Something that no-one could look down upon as a profession.

    The youth brushed pie crumbs from his armour and straightened up, taking a drink from one of the waterskins hanging from his broad shoulders. Settling the stopper back into place, he turned his dark eyes up, his gaze travelling to the edifice carved from red stone that loomed over the city. The Red Keep, the house of the Iron Throne, the center of the Seven Kingdoms.

    Looking up now and then to take in the sights, Bannon made his way there.

  7. Bannon moved through the crowd with an easy, unhurried pace. He did not fear pickpockets, mainly because his money purse was tucked into the neck of the thick woven tunic he wore under his armor. Any cutpurse seeking to lighten his load would need a ladder. He grinned at the thought.

    He stopped at a stall selling meat pies, haggling for one before resuming his steady progress. He had no goal in mind right now save to gain familiarity with the city and, perhaps, to spot any opportunity that may present itself.

    The large man wondered if they had bareknuckle tourneys here. He liked to fight, and it was a sure way to earn coin whilst waiting for something grander to come along. He paused now and then in his travels to chat to those not too busy, trying to figure out who needed a strong arm and keen blade, where his size and skill could be best employed.

  8. The gold cloaks had been watching the huge man since he joined the queue outside the Iron Gate. They were people who hated trouble makers, and whilst the behemoth didn't look like one, as such, they dreaded to think what would happen if he did decide to start trouble. By the crown, but he was massive! The haft of the great axe he casually bore propped on one oversized shoulder seemed carven from the whole trunk of a sapling. Two of the gold cloaks exchanged a look.

    "That's a siege weapon he's got on his damned shoulder!" one murmured to the other.

    "He doesn't need it to knock down gates! Look at the size of those fists!" his friend hissed back. "Gods above us, but he'd be a fine catch for someone's army."

    "He'd be a fine army for someone to catch!"

    The two men straightened up and stepped to brace their patrol leader as the giant moved to stand before him, the axe coming down off that shoulder and settling butt-first on the ground with an audible *thud*. All three men looked up, then further up, feeling small as the dark eyes regarded them.

    "Name?" the leader asked, annoyed at the slight quaver in his voice.

    "Bannon." The man's voice boomed and rumbled, though he'd spoken mildly. "Bannon of Bronzegate."

    "And your business in King's Landing?"

    "I am seeking my fortune as a sellsword." Boom, boom went the words like granite slabs falling onto packed earth. The man replied seeming to be used to, and thus uncaring of, the stares he was getting from others. His dark eyes were steady on the three guards.

    "You intending to use that?" The leader pointed at the huge axe that would make an unwieldy polearm for a normal man. The giant looked at the axe, then back at the gold cloak.

    "Not today." The three guards heard the faint irony in the man's voice as he lifted the axe back to it's rest on his shoulder. "So. May I enter?"

  9. Bannon Storm; Bannon of Bronzegate


    Gender: Male

    Age: 16

    Hair: Black

    Eyes: Sable-Brown

    Height: 7'4" (OOC: Not yet at his full growth)

    Weight: 390lbs

    Social Rank: Sellsword

    Affiliation: None

    Description: A massive man, even tall men have to crane their necks to address his face. He stands cleanly at seven feet in height, his shoulders are an armspan across, and his biceps are as big around as most well-built men's thighs and steel-hard. His hands are large enough to grasp a man's head as though it were a large apple. He moves, and speaks, with a steady, solid pace, and has a voice that possesses a quiet boom even when he is trying to hush his tone. Sable-brown eyes are framed by long, shaggy black hair and a black beard. A smaller man with his features might be considered handsome in a rugged fashion, but Bannon is simply imposing.

    In manner he is uncommonly bold for a smallfolk, meeting the eyes of any who speak to him and showing little deference to his betters, though he is not outrightly disrespectful of those above his station.

    Rumors and Facts

    His first act in this world was to kill his own mother in childbirth, due to his great size. After that he was raised by his grandfather, the smith of Bronzegate. The word around Bronzegate, according to merchants, is that the boy was the product of a rape by a giant, a relic of some bygone age that lives in the wooded hills of that land.

    Rumors of his cursed nature abound. He is said to go into terrible indiscriminate rages that sweep aside friend and foe alike. Even his grandfather, who was kind enough to raise a rape's bastard, has suffered at the hands of this brute.

    He's said to have been as big as most men by his 12th year.

    By the time he was sixteen summers old, he was the fistfighting champion of his area.

    Whispers from traders who know state that Bannon has a vile temper and a bone-crushing right cross. Why, a man insulted his mother when Bannon was fifteen and still he cannot speak properly.

    OOC Note: The name 'Storm' indicates that he is a bastard from the Stormlands.

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