Posts by DAGDA GREYJOY

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 450px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]Dagda had never respected Blindlove. The former high queen was a naive child, not the least bit ready for rulership. She'd welcomed him, and he'd repaid the favor by summoning his cousin and letting her tear open Blindlove's throat. That had begun the brief Greyjoy reign, which had ended when the rebels—no, sorry, the patriots (they'd won, after all) had killed Dagda's cousin and sent the Ironborn horde home. Ah, the good old days.

That visiting nobles were allowed to stay in the Red Keep had become custom, and although Dagda wasn't always sure that he wanted to be so close to the green lords, it beat finding a place of his own every time he wanted to see his father and ask his advice. That, at least, explained why the sea otter was in the Red Keep when Blindlove awoke.

These days, Dagda tended to avoid the throne room. He'd bowed and scraped before Jaehaerys, and he didn't need to be reminded of that—and the sight of the Iron Throne, supposedly made the with weapons of the first Targaryen king's enemies, definitely brought the memories back. Call him proud, but having lived through it once was enough; he didn't need to be constantly reminded of the chain around his neck.

Sometimes, though, there was no avoiding the throne room, and now was one of those times: his path took him directly through it. Imagine his surprise when, halfway across the room, he saw the feline his cousin had killed. (Okay, murdered, but at least Bli had been given a chance to fight back, which was more than that damned Stark had given his cousin.) From the sound of it, Blindlove didn't even know that anything had happened.

For a heartbeat, Dagda was tempted to go over and put her back in the grave. She was already dead; what difference did it make? It would be revenge for Oliver's murder of his cousin. It would make him feel better about bending the knee. It would end with his father's head detached from his body, and very likely Dagda's as well.

Swallowing the rash feeling, the Greyjoy roughly barked, "You're dead. You're not queen. You're a ghost already faded from public mind." Had the innocent cat grown up enough to understand that?

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 420px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]The reaver wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he wasn't dumb enough to have authorized an attack on Lannisport. Dagda knew how limited he was. He knew how bad an idea being caught in a crime against Westeros was. He knew it, and so he had kept the peace.

Ravens were not the best way to reach the Lord Reaper of Pyke. Dagda didn't hold with maesters, and he didn't keep one of his own, but there was an outpost of them on Pyke, and they'd given him the message. Even if he'd wanted to refuse, the pirate knew he could not: if he did, the next message the dragon king sent was like to remind him that, if he wished a traveling companion, his father's fingers would do nicely.

At least the meeting spot didn't require as much travel as going to King's Landing would have. Dagda had become familiar with the city during his cousin's brief stint as leader, and the time before that, when he'd been a glorified spy. Despite the weeks spent there, he wasn't fond of the smelly capital.

Dagda had left his men on the longship: if the Targaryen was to break his word and try something, the Iron Islands would be up in arms. There was no need to act as though he had any power in the setting and bring a retainer. Striding across the stretch of sand, he stood quietly, waiting for Jaehaerys to get to the point. He didn't bow, but he hadn't intended to make a habit of that: fawning could be reserved for when he worried that the Islands would be given to the care of a green lord.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 420px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]Who else showed but Oliver Stark? It was no wonder that Dagda worked to avoid this room. Nearly as soon as the griffin saw him, an arrow was aimed at the Greyjoy's head. Baring his teeth in a silent snarl, he fought the urge to go for his own weapon. The injustice of it! Dagda hadn't said a hostile word and he was being painted as the villain, but it was perfectly okay for the Stark to threaten him. Was this the king's justice? "I'm not going to touch your whore, Stark," he spat back. He gained nothing from it—chains, remember?

The old Queen's voice was grating, loud and patronizing, as though she still thought she had power. Dagda remained silent, even as she insulted him, although his lips twisted in a sneer as she rushed toward Oliver, proving that his description of her was accurate.

His dark eyes didn't leave Oliver, even as the Uller devil-wolf, or whatever his species was called, tried to defuse the situation. He didn't see what he'd done wrong, but the otter had no reason to stick around. Shooting Oliver another dark glare, he took Daresso's advice and spun back toward the doorway he'd originally been heading toward.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 420px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]Of course that was what this was about. Truth be told, Dagda had heard someone bragging about kidnapping someone important in the bar a few nights earlier, but he hadn't paid it much mind: the man was a barely competent captain, and a coward to boot. Even if he was willing to disobey a direct order, he wouldn't have succeeded. Right now, it sounded like he had, but Dagda was inclined to ignore the man unless pressed.

Frowning at the king's opening, the Ironman demanded, "You know it was an Ironborn ship or are you listening to rumors?" He wouldn't be surprised if Jaehaerys had no proof. There was no lost love between the Ironborn and the Iron Throne, and the greenlanders were quick to blame his people. Why, Blindlove had refused to recognize the Greyjoys as a Great House because "some Westerosi believe you to be pirates." He'd reminded her that they hadn't preyed on Westeros for decades, but she hadn't cared. For Dagda, that had been one of the final straws. Arms folded, he bitterly reminded Jaehaerys, "You've got me chained tighter than a dog. You think I'd authorize a raid?" Did he think Dagda would go and burn everything he'd worked to build up?

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 420px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]Reports suggesting. If he didn't think that there might be merit to the reports, Dagda would have snorted. What did these green men even know of ships? Oh, Lannisport was a seaside city, sure, and there were sure to have been sailors about, but were these reports from the mouths of sailors who knew Ironborn ships or just loudmouthed men blaming the nearest enemy?

"I'll look into it," he grudgingly agreed. Dagda didn't mind where his captains raided, so long as they weren't caught in any mischief. If he did find the Lannister boy, he'd have to play at anger to appease the green lords. The thought was not a pleasant one, especially considering that they probably wouldn't be satisfied with anything less than a pound of flesh. Fixing glittering black eyes on Jaehaerys, he added, "If one of my men did raid Lannisport and take the Lannister, it's my matter. Whether Strider Lannister be alive or dead, I'm not turning any Ironmen over to the Lannister lord." He'd had enough of giving Ironborn to the greenlanders for a lifetime; if Ace wanted more justice than Dagda's, he'd have to come to the Iron Islands himself.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 420px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]Jaehaerys seemed satisfied, even if he didn't look too happy. Why he had to be involved at all was beyond Dagda: if he'd been the one with a complaint, he would have marched right to the Lannister's doorstep instead of whining to the king.

Personally, he felt that if Ace couldn't protect his own, he had no business making threats dependent on Strider's healthy return. Whether or not whoever had kidnapped him was in the wrong—and he mostly certainly wasn't, but saying that wouldn't go over very well—Ace should have secured his harbors better. If you dangle meat in front of a dog, it was only expected that the dog would try to take it.

Letting out a small sound at Jaehaerys' qualifier, Dagda snorted, "Oh, aye, I'll drown him if I must." He would not need to, but he assumed the humor was lost on Jaehaerys. Drowning was both the only way Ironborn was permitted to kill Ironborn and how men were dedicated to the service of the Drowned God. One punishment was too extreme and the other too lax, if becoming a priest could even be considered punishment. They didn't make their priests remain dry or chaste, unlike the green men with their funny gods.

Falling still, he eyed Jaehaerys for another minute, unsure if the man intended to force anything else on him while he still stood there, or if he'd turn and go, leaving Dagda to mull over the conversation.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 420px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]Dagda had thought that running into Blindlove in the throne room would be the only time he had to bear the sight of her, but here she was again, in the same location as him. Rather than try to rebuild her own House, the blind feline was joining another—the Lannisters, of course, which put her right near the Iron Islands.

Dagda didn't hate the former queen the same way he hated, say, Oliver Stark, but he wasn't too happy about being near her again. She was alive again, despite her shortcomings, while Tessa remained dead. Oh, his cousin was feasting with the Drowned God, but life was better than sitting with a God, and Tessa certainly deserved life more than this pathetic sack of flesh.

He remained a silent background observer, paws tensed furiously, half expecting the Stark Lord to come and aim another arrow at his head.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 420px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]Dagda presumed that this was the sort of raid Jaehaerys had been kind enough to let him go on—perhaps with his father. It was in the crown's best interests and oh, a wonderful way for Dagda and his men to get the whole murder-rape-pillage thing out of their system without harming any Westerosi. He really ought not to be so resentful, but the otter tended to eye any gifts from green men with suspicion.

Young lord devil-dog was loud and demanded obedience, and for that alone, Dagda considered ignoring him, but like a good little puppy, he headed on over. Once Jaehaerys had finished speaking, he cut his eyes toward him, silently asking if this was the sort of raid Finnbahr would be allowed on.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 420px; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]It had taken Dagda more than three days, but he'd found the stolen Lannister. The rest of Westeros assumed that the Iron Islands were small and insignificant, but Dagda could search them in three days only as thoroughly as Ace Lannister could search the westerlands or Oliver Stark could search the north. Strider had been kept on one of the more distant islands—and contrary to popular belief, there was more than just the big seven—working as a thrall for his captor. Like a good little lord, Dagda had taken him and was personally delivering him home, a fact he didn't think Ace Lannister would appreciate. More like, the Greyjoy would be told he'd done wrong by not locating Strider more quickly.

He didn't intend to leave Strider until the male was safely within the walls of Casterly Rock. If anything happened to him, Dagda wanted it to be clear that it wasn't his fault, and that no action ought to be taken against the Ironborn. They'd already reached the shore and were halfway to the Lannister castle. Tilting his head to regard Strider, Dagda grunted, "Are we near your home yet?" Leaving his ship for so long in potentially hostile waters had him antsy; sure, his crew still manned the vessel, but that wouldn't stop anyone who wanted to start something.

@Strider L. @ACE LANNISTER ?!

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 500px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]'Trying something' wasn't on Dagda's mind, which some Westerosi couldn't seem to get into their head. He'd endured the humiliation of pledging himself to Jaehaerys and had sold his father to the pale lion. He had made sure that the Iron Islands remained in good hands—namely, Greyjoy hands. Did they all thing he was so base as to give that up for a moment's enjoyment? Or did they all just want to paint him as a villain? The greenlanders were no better than the ironmen.o

Nodding, he followed Strider's gaze to the castle. "Big," Dagda commented, dark eyes taking in the Lannister stronghold. It shouldn't take them too long to get there, and as soon as he was done with this, he could return home. For all the time he'd spent in the other kingdoms, Dagda was chiefly an ironman, and he liked no place as much as the Iron Islands.

Perhaps it was because he'd been looking away, but Dagda didn't react to Oliver until an arrow was already aimed at his head. Well, this seemed familiar. Baring his teeth, he reached for his own axe. Oliver might be happy to see him, but Dagda was tired of being faced with weapons every time he so much as breathed. The accusation stung. "I rescued him," the Greyjoy protested, voice rough with restrained rage. He'd put considerable effort into the search for Strider, but of course the damned Stark lord assumed he'd been the one to capture the cheetah.

Fortinbras' arrival only barely register. The Hand was trying to calm Oliver down, but Dagda would not put away his axe. He was not going to stand being threatened every time the griffin saw him. "Is that reason enough? Next time y'aim that bow at me, I'll gut you. I don't doubt your king'll understand." The way he saw it, responding to a threat was not a crime, and it didn't strike him as fair that Oliver was allowed to threaten him while he was supposed to remain as meekand soft as a greenlander.

Ace's personal use of his name, as though they were actually on good terms, struck Dagda as funny—and a bit insulting. His first reaction, at the Warden's inquiry, was to snap that it wasn't any of his business. Dagda alone had the right to punish the kidnapped: that was the law, and Jaehaerys had confirmed it. Ace could stick his nose into someone else's business. Reluctantly biting down the response, he grunted, "No." He'd punish the criminal in his own time; if Ace disapproved, he'd have to suffer in silence.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 420px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]The Ironborn captain wasn't used to 'rescue' raids. He was used to 'destroy-and-loot' raids, and he hadn't been quite sure what to do when Daresso started talking. Dagda had vaguely expected mass slaughter until they reached Quintain, not simple words. Luckily, action followed soon after, and he felt more in his element.

The otter didn't know who Quintain was, but once the others started calling to boy standing besides Radio, it wasn't hard to figure out. Clawing his way through the tangled mass of fighters, Dagda trotted after Quinn's retreating figure. "Boy," he called, "Y'ready t'come home?" If Quinn was the loot, Dagda wasn't letting him run away so easily.

jae such nice king

maybe it'd be fun to involve in something against the skulls bc they're also pirates? & this town is only big enough for one of us

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 420px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]Radio's mistake was speaking before he attacked; if he hadn't he most certainly would have landed on Dagda, as the pirate was focusing on Quinn instead of the battle. The male's voice gave the otter ample warning, and without looking to see who was speaking, he spun sideways, away from any potential attack.

As the sea mammal turned to face Radioactiveplague, teeth bared, darkness seeped from his opponent's body, surrounding him and limiting his sight. Letting out a deep growl, Dagda tried to stalk away from the blackness, but was unable to. Finally, reluctantly, he stilled, listening for the sound of an approaching enemy.

/ bump for ace

track

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 420px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]Dagda wasn't kept waiting long, and while the older devil dog dealt with a chubby panda baby Dagda hadn't run across before, Finnbahr arrived, and it was all the otter could do to pretend that he was still a lord, and not just someone overjoyed to see his father again. The smile that broke out over his face was most uncharacteristic, but he didn't bother to hide it.

Finnbahr looked good, and from the sound of it, the green lords hadn't managed to turn him soft yet. 'Course not. Finnbahr had said that they wouldn't, and his father wasn't so easily changed. "Gotta see the place first," he replied. The Iron Fleet was newly restored: he wasn't going to send it out blindly.

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 420px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]If such a varied assortment of people showed up all the way in the westerlands, Dagda was glad that the Iron Islands weren't attached to the rest of Westeros by land. He couldn't bear the thought of so many greenlanders sauntering around his isles, acting as though they belonged there.

Strider was prompt in replying to the Stark's question. He sounded tired, but Dagda had no sympathy for that. The Ironborn was more of mind to blame the cheetah for allowing himself to be captured than his fellow Iron Islanders for capturing the guy—unfair, perhaps, but Dagda would adjust his thinking to benefit the Ironborn whatever the situation. "Not loose," he amended. He knew who had captured Strider, and although Huron Codd wasn't in custody, Dagda had made sure that he wouldn't be able to leave the Islands. He was under control.

Ace, of course, wasn't satisfied. "Thought y'might like him back right away," he snapped, temper flaring. Next time, Dagda would be sure to let Strider remain a thrall while he saw to it that the kidnapper was properly punished. Besides, the Codd knew that punishment was coming, and fear of punishment was often worse than the punishment itself. Dagda had learned that when he'd bowed before Jaehaerys, silently praying that the terms of surrender wouldn't be too harsh. "I'll see t'the captor later."

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 420px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]Well, finally. Dagda would have to make sure that his captains knew about the new mark. As he glanced around the group, mostly to see who was there, he spotted the Volmark girl. If she was here, her brother would know soon enough. Satisfied, Dagda started to turn around when he heard Jaehaerys continue. The addition made him want to scoff. Were they a group of vigilantes now, rescuing everyone who'd ever been hurt?

[center][fancypost=bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 420px; font=; text-align: justify;][font=timesnewroman][size=12]Dagda didn't see the point of this. At all. He would rather, ah, butcher Ace and then Oliver than talk his way through a spar. Was there even a skill in that? He remained alone, not quite scowling, but close; it was hard to scowl when he was watching the little panda chirping to Ace.

ugh I'm not sure what I was saying there because I didn't proofread
but, mhm, i can go ask if they're interested in anything

and look, we have more ironborn now