First Person: [Stannis passes through the the desolate building across from that strange railed road he came in on, hosting upon it that long, snake-like cart that had now disappeared. There are papers upon the wall around him, supposedly advice for 'newcomers'. And even what looks to be supplies. He snorts bitterly at the notion.]
Send a person to some hell, and act like you're the savior. The gall of them.
[His teeth grind as he ignores the supplies out of pride and suspicion, instead palming against the newfound weight in his trousers.]
Even worse, they slip something into my own leggings. Perhaps next I'll be finding my throne, only for it to be covered in the droppings of birds.
[With a frown deep against his worn and tight face, his hand reaches in to seize the item; something round and brass. Cautiously, he pulls it out, holding it on his open palm and scrutinizing it with a narrow stare.]
Some bauble of one kind or another...
[His thumb flicks over the lock keeping the watch closed, releasing its cover and showing all of foreign information Stannis could only look bewildered by.]
...Another accursed invention of my torturers. Their ingenuity is only matched by their ability to waste my time.
[Baratheon's back leans against the brick of the train station as he peers and tinkers with the watch, murmuring both dissatisfaction and discovery all the while.]
Third Person: This settlement, a city long-abandoned by most from what he could reckon, was not from his world. Perhaps, as a man of Westeros, he had not seen all that his world had to offer. But the ethereal presence felt here, beyond the ones felt by his priestess' flames, gave him the infuriating impression that he was just a prisoner in this exotic realm. It had the trappings of Storm's End, or of Dragonstone, with the cobblestone roads and rats prowling for crumb or carcass to devour. Even the temple resembled a sept, somewhat, called a 'cathedral' on some of the maps he had found. But this was no land of his.
The king Baratheon thought for that reason, that determining who's land this was, was a matter of primary importance. The threats of danger and adversity were none that he hadn't faced before. Thoughts that struck him as built from hubris. But the longer he was away from his duty in Westeros was the more every party suffered. The security of his stomach and warmth of his body could wait.
From what he had been able to gleam from the scattered bits of information around town, there were two locations to check first: the object called the 'obelisk', apparently a tower of red. Whatever symbolism it had in his home, he doubt it held here, Stannis reminded himself. The second would be the library, needing no explanation other than it being a hub of information. He just cursed the potential fate of it being a foreign tongue. Always suspect the worst of men you do not know.
The town center, as told, contained the great monument Stannis sensed as mystical, but in a manner he was not able to place. Approaching it haughtily, though his heavy steps and grim demeanor betrayed his concern at its power, he stopped only a few feet away from it to peer closer into the crystal, the material of which this tower was made. But what he saw, some morphing shadow, a distorted darkness trying to grow but being kept imprisoned, warded him off soon after.
His feet skirt back, his steps slow and defensive. Before, he had seen such dark magic. That of the shadowbinders, of his own priestess. Now it lays within the grasp of somebody unknown to him, with purposes unknown but surely counter-intuitive. Seconds pass, and his fear hardens into contempt. His short and grounded teeth sneer at the ominous rock.
"Another means to power. Whatever this stone is supposed to conduct... I trust it not."
There would be nothing to gain standing around like an old miser and condemning this unknown force. Stannis would learn about it from a more prudent place, and determine its place in his mind from there. Others may damn or worship, but he simply used as necessary, as beneficial to the realm. The library was not far away now, and as such, that would be his next location. There he could learn.
[CANON] Stannis Baratheon || A Song of Ice and Fire || No Reserve || 3 of 3
[Stannis passes through the the desolate building across from that strange railed road he came in on, hosting upon it that long, snake-like cart that had now disappeared. There are papers upon the wall around him, supposedly advice for 'newcomers'. And even what looks to be supplies. He snorts bitterly at the notion.]
Send a person to some hell, and act like you're the savior. The gall of them.
[His teeth grind as he ignores the supplies out of pride and suspicion, instead palming against the newfound weight in his trousers.]
Even worse, they slip something into my own leggings. Perhaps next I'll be finding my throne, only for it to be covered in the droppings of birds.
[With a frown deep against his worn and tight face, his hand reaches in to seize the item; something round and brass. Cautiously, he pulls it out, holding it on his open palm and scrutinizing it with a narrow stare.]
Some bauble of one kind or another...
[His thumb flicks over the lock keeping the watch closed, releasing its cover and showing all of foreign information Stannis could only look bewildered by.]
...Another accursed invention of my torturers. Their ingenuity is only matched by their ability to waste my time.
[Baratheon's back leans against the brick of the train station as he peers and tinkers with the watch, murmuring both dissatisfaction and discovery all the while.]
Third Person:
This settlement, a city long-abandoned by most from what he could reckon, was not from his world. Perhaps, as a man of Westeros, he had not seen all that his world had to offer. But the ethereal presence felt here, beyond the ones felt by his priestess' flames, gave him the infuriating impression that he was just a prisoner in this exotic realm. It had the trappings of Storm's End, or of Dragonstone, with the cobblestone roads and rats prowling for crumb or carcass to devour. Even the temple resembled a sept, somewhat, called a 'cathedral' on some of the maps he had found. But this was no land of his.
The king Baratheon thought for that reason, that determining who's land this was, was a matter of primary importance. The threats of danger and adversity were none that he hadn't faced before. Thoughts that struck him as built from hubris. But the longer he was away from his duty in Westeros was the more every party suffered. The security of his stomach and warmth of his body could wait.
From what he had been able to gleam from the scattered bits of information around town, there were two locations to check first: the object called the 'obelisk', apparently a tower of red. Whatever symbolism it had in his home, he doubt it held here, Stannis reminded himself. The second would be the library, needing no explanation other than it being a hub of information. He just cursed the potential fate of it being a foreign tongue. Always suspect the worst of men you do not know.
The town center, as told, contained the great monument Stannis sensed as mystical, but in a manner he was not able to place. Approaching it haughtily, though his heavy steps and grim demeanor betrayed his concern at its power, he stopped only a few feet away from it to peer closer into the crystal, the material of which this tower was made. But what he saw, some morphing shadow, a distorted darkness trying to grow but being kept imprisoned, warded him off soon after.
His feet skirt back, his steps slow and defensive. Before, he had seen such dark magic. That of the shadowbinders, of his own priestess. Now it lays within the grasp of somebody unknown to him, with purposes unknown but surely counter-intuitive. Seconds pass, and his fear hardens into contempt. His short and grounded teeth sneer at the ominous rock.
"Another means to power. Whatever this stone is supposed to conduct... I trust it not."
There would be nothing to gain standing around like an old miser and condemning this unknown force. Stannis would learn about it from a more prudent place, and determine its place in his mind from there. Others may damn or worship, but he simply used as necessary, as beneficial to the realm. The library was not far away now, and as such, that would be his next location. There he could learn.