[ Dorne is not a region that sees the kind of weather that Oberyn has found himself in. No, his first thought when he awakens is how he managed to get from King's Landing to the North. Had he died? He might have, but so will his opponent. Eventually. The last thing he can remember is the pressure on his eyes and the Mountain's giant thumbs in his sockets. Fortunately, he can see but there is still blood in his eyes and his head throbs as if he has drunk himself unconscious.
When he arrives at the building, Oberyn wraps himself in a blanket and asks the old man where exactly Milton is and whether it is near Winterfell, or Beyond the Wall, but the vague answer he gets only frustrates him further. So, he begins asking the others that are steadily gathering in the hall. ]
So many people and no one knows where this place is? [ He looks at several people nearby as he speaks. ] Or how we all got here?
[ Arrival; Methuselah's Feast (PT 2) ]
[ There's conversation and speculation but after a couple of hours, Oberyn has resigned himself to being stuck where he is for the time being. There's no way he'll revisit the horrible weather conditions outside to try and find a way out and it is warm and there is food. Eventually, he finds himself on a cot, watching people come and go at first until something catches his eye.
His belt and dagger. Two things that should not be here. With it was a coat adorned with the Dornish sun motif, one that was often kept for trips to the colder parts of Westeros. Oberyn's dark eyes dart around the room, looking for familiar faces: Ellaria, any one of his beloved daughters, even his brother Doran, with no luck.
The Prince looks uneasy. ]
[ Hope Nobody Needs This Anymore ]
[ With not much to do and no way to leave, surviving is the only thing he can do. So, Oberyn takes refuge in a small home down the way from the community hall. It was nothing like the palaces in Dorne, but he found plenty of firewood and some food and a number of technical advances that he wasted very little time trying to understand. Nothing of the sort exists where he's from and he saw no use to educate himself that simply looked odd with absolutely no functionality.
He spends his days learning and helping who he can along the way. If anything, it's a distraction from the growing ache in his chest that longs to return home.
Traipsing from building to building, and house to house in search of supplies, he passes by people all the time. But this time Oberyn hits the jackpot by finding a bottle of something that, after opening, he realizes is some potent type of alcohol. ]
Do you know what this is?
[ He asks, sniffing the contents again. ]
It's unlike anything I have ever smelled before.
[ Wild Card! ]
[ Find Oberyn anywhere else or you can find me on lilbeejack to chat something more specific ]
Oberyn Martell | Game of Thrones
[ Dorne is not a region that sees the kind of weather that Oberyn has found himself in. No, his first thought when he awakens is how he managed to get from King's Landing to the North. Had he died? He might have, but so will his opponent. Eventually. The last thing he can remember is the pressure on his eyes and the Mountain's giant thumbs in his sockets. Fortunately, he can see but there is still blood in his eyes and his head throbs as if he has drunk himself unconscious.
When he arrives at the building, Oberyn wraps himself in a blanket and asks the old man where exactly Milton is and whether it is near Winterfell, or Beyond the Wall, but the vague answer he gets only frustrates him further. So, he begins asking the others that are steadily gathering in the hall. ]
So many people and no one knows where this place is? [ He looks at several people nearby as he speaks. ] Or how we all got here?
[ Arrival; Methuselah's Feast (PT 2) ]
[ There's conversation and speculation but after a couple of hours, Oberyn has resigned himself to being stuck where he is for the time being. There's no way he'll revisit the horrible weather conditions outside to try and find a way out and it is warm and there is food. Eventually, he finds himself on a cot, watching people come and go at first until something catches his eye.
His belt and dagger. Two things that should not be here. With it was a coat adorned with the Dornish sun motif, one that was often kept for trips to the colder parts of Westeros. Oberyn's dark eyes dart around the room, looking for familiar faces: Ellaria, any one of his beloved daughters, even his brother Doran, with no luck.
The Prince looks uneasy. ]
[ Hope Nobody Needs This Anymore ]
[ With not much to do and no way to leave, surviving is the only thing he can do. So, Oberyn takes refuge in a small home down the way from the community hall. It was nothing like the palaces in Dorne, but he found plenty of firewood and some food and a number of technical advances that he wasted very little time trying to understand. Nothing of the sort exists where he's from and he saw no use to educate himself that simply looked odd with absolutely no functionality.
He spends his days learning and helping who he can along the way. If anything, it's a distraction from the growing ache in his chest that longs to return home.
Traipsing from building to building, and house to house in search of supplies, he passes by people all the time. But this time Oberyn hits the jackpot by finding a bottle of something that, after opening, he realizes is some potent type of alcohol. ]
Do you know what this is?
[ He asks, sniffing the contents again. ]
It's unlike anything I have ever smelled before.
[ Wild Card! ]
[ Find Oberyn anywhere else or you can find me on