[Phase 1.75] Maegelle Mae-gone
Apr 26, 2019 3:15:27 GMT 1
Addam Velaryon, Balon Blackbriar, and 1 more like this
Post by Septon Abelar on Apr 26, 2019 3:15:27 GMT 1
Septon Abelar broods half the night away, tossing and turning in the bed of his simple cell. It didn't feel good to be trading in gutter-whispers, but he had been desperate. He had needed to prevail in his tribunal. The realm needed him. Maester Ronnel had been clear about the stakes. Denounce Maegelle Cordwayner and learn which of the tribunal judges is breaking his vows. It was a simple trade, and one made in service of the greater good. Such information was sound leverage, which he had used to great effect. And yet, the septon wavered. Giving up on sleep, Abelar sits up in bed and drops his feet to the floor, rubbing his bare shoulders for warmth.
Maegelle Cordwayner is playing Ser Roland like a fool. She's cuckolding her lord husband, and with a bastard to boot! But who am I to deliver denouncement, after I failed so miserably with Merryweather? He looks up into the dark room. "Who am I, Father? Can I still preach as I used to? How can I know if my purpose will fail? If my words will slay my friends as surely as any blade?" He thinks for a moment. I was spared in the trial. I was spared in the tribunal. Who is she?
Maegelle is so foul. She's even named after the worst Targaryen king to ever live! Just the thought of it caused the septon to twitch with energy. Her face swims before him momentarily--silky, coppery hair framing a face with big eyes, a haughty Fossoway curl to her lips. Her soft lips.
His hand slips between his legs.
WHACK!
The other hand delivers a solid blow with a length of knotted leather, stinging the knuckles and causing the septon to wince. His hand retreats to a more holy place. "Father, she tempted me. Forgive me. I will make it right." He sets aside the leather for the nonce. If things had gone differently, he would have needed more chastisement. But this time he had remained strong. This time.
"Father, I see the path before me. I will punish the sinner Maegelle Cordwayner." My path is clear.
"You have shown me the way." My path is just.
"You saved me at the tribunal." Now I will repay you. A soul for a soul.
"Deliver me from evil, Father." And I will deliver evil to hell.
Cleansed of doubt, he sinks down into the bed and a sweet, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, the septon finds a street corner not far from where he knows various servants and minor Reach nobles are residing. Armed with a treatise given to him by the maester, he begins preaching about the sins of fornication and lust. He periodically teases that he knows of a certain noblewoman--a sly vixen indeed--who has eschewed her lord husband to lay with a bastard. When the crowd has grown to a size and composition that will yield maximum impact, Abelar whips out the Cordwayner genealogy treatise and reads aloud, laying out proof that the Cordwayners have had black hair for six generations, only for it to suddenly go blond all of a sudden. Blond like that Ser Normyn Flowers she's always with . . .
Maegelle Cordwayner is playing Ser Roland like a fool. She's cuckolding her lord husband, and with a bastard to boot! But who am I to deliver denouncement, after I failed so miserably with Merryweather? He looks up into the dark room. "Who am I, Father? Can I still preach as I used to? How can I know if my purpose will fail? If my words will slay my friends as surely as any blade?" He thinks for a moment. I was spared in the trial. I was spared in the tribunal. Who is she?
Maegelle is so foul. She's even named after the worst Targaryen king to ever live! Just the thought of it caused the septon to twitch with energy. Her face swims before him momentarily--silky, coppery hair framing a face with big eyes, a haughty Fossoway curl to her lips. Her soft lips.
His hand slips between his legs.
Lascivious roll for narrative purpose, TN 16: 6d6k4 20
WHACK!
The other hand delivers a solid blow with a length of knotted leather, stinging the knuckles and causing the septon to wince. His hand retreats to a more holy place. "Father, she tempted me. Forgive me. I will make it right." He sets aside the leather for the nonce. If things had gone differently, he would have needed more chastisement. But this time he had remained strong. This time.
"Father, I see the path before me. I will punish the sinner Maegelle Cordwayner." My path is clear.
"You have shown me the way." My path is just.
"You saved me at the tribunal." Now I will repay you. A soul for a soul.
"Deliver me from evil, Father." And I will deliver evil to hell.
Cleansed of doubt, he sinks down into the bed and a sweet, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, the septon finds a street corner not far from where he knows various servants and minor Reach nobles are residing. Armed with a treatise given to him by the maester, he begins preaching about the sins of fornication and lust. He periodically teases that he knows of a certain noblewoman--a sly vixen indeed--who has eschewed her lord husband to lay with a bastard. When the crowd has grown to a size and composition that will yield maximum impact, Abelar whips out the Cordwayner genealogy treatise and reads aloud, laying out proof that the Cordwayners have had black hair for six generations, only for it to suddenly go blond all of a sudden. Blond like that Ser Normyn Flowers she's always with . . .