Post by Septon Martyn on Apr 5, 2015 20:12:10 GMT -5
Character's Name:
Martyn Westerling
Character's Age: 29
Character's Nationality: Andal
Skills:
- Persuasion
-- Charm (82)
-- Seduction (20)
-- Diplomacy (72)
-- Intimidation (20)
- Intrigue
-- Forgery (10)
- Economic
-- Governing (50)
-- Finance (40)
- Atheltics
-- Unarmed combat (55)
-- Sleight of Hand (55)
-- Observation (40)
- Drinking (45)
- Writing (80)
- Languages
-- Valyrian (40)
- Engineering
-- Civil (45)
Character's Personal History:
It would be the circumstances of birth which would see Martyn packed off to the Citadel at the turn of his 12th nameday. The fourth son of a house rich in little more than legacy, the Westerlings could ill-afford the cost of a desterier and a suit of armour typical of a landed-knight status for Martyn, let alone a keep or small patch of dirt and small folk. Instead, he found himself fostered within the libraries, laboratories, halls and ravenries in the center of Westerosi learning. Sullenness and isolation turned the boy to study. Study turned to a propensity for writing, language, and tinkering. Adolescence, the discovery of drink, women and song, combined with the little coin received from the Crag turned the boy from his Sullenness.
Whereas the boy had been content to learn of ancient Valyria, compose essays and papers on the nature of Braavosi mercantile systems, and diagrams outlining improvements to Oldtown's sewage works, the young man found himself entranced by politics, religion, women, and the interplay between. A sharp tongue and a sharper pen would result in a number of treatises and essays on the Faith, worship of the Old Gods, mistakes in the governing system of Westeros, and talk of reform that were considered foundational by some of the Citadel, and extremely subversive by others. It was against this latter group that Martyn would turn his pen while gathered with friends in the taverns and whorehouses of Oldtown. With little consideration for age or experience, slander ranging from more mundane accusations of "such befudledness not seen since the days of Baelor," to more serious insinuations of incest and goat-fuckery the young Martyn soon found himself cast out of the Citadel and into the Faith, the only other institution available for extra-sons from poor noble houses.
If there existed a male equivalent of the Silent Sisters among the septons of the Faith, the faithful of Oldtown might have been spared of Septon Martyn's lashing words and cruel penmanship. This was not to say that Martyn was unversed in the aspects and notions of faith and piety. Indeed, the danger a rival in the Faith might face from Martyn lay in the knowledge he tended to quickly attain concerning their matter of dispute so as to rout them as Robb Stark once routed the Lannisters besieging Riverrun. A typical day for the Septon could easily involve a mixture of prayer, writing, the performance of various rituals and rites for the poor among Oldtown's brothels and docks, followed by dicing, drinking and fighting among the same later in the evening. The interplay of politics, religion and women would become both physical and controversial when Martyn was found in the top floor of a tavern with two very loud Silent Sisters, two flagons of wine, a Pentoshi dwarf, an (apparently) Lyseni whore, three sailors, and absolutely no clothing in site save that which was worn by a very disturbed goat which had somehow be involved in the scandal. It could have been ignored had not one of the silent sisters been a sister to some wife of some Tyrell two generations and three castles removed from the current Lord, and the other a niece of a member of the Most Devout.
While some might say that moment was the scandal which broke any patience remaining among the intelligentsia and nobility of Oldtown, it served more as an excuse to exile the man whom some among both the Citadel and the Starry Sept said would turn the entire Seven Kingdoms on their head if he were allowed anywhere near pen, parchment, and the ravens to distribute the product of both. So Martyn was sent back to the Crag, not defrocked of his status as a septon, something which may have occurred with someone of lowborn status, but with the understanding that he would neither perform his duties as such, nor seek to gather a following. Martyn never returned to his family's homelands, stopping within just another week's journey of his birthplace and now finding himself in the streets, docks, and alleyways to Lannisport. Maybe the predictions of the maesters and septons were right. A man with little coin, no particular love of family, no purpose, but with a little parchment can go a long way if he finds the right set of eyes for his work.
Character's Physical Description:
Joseph Fiennes good-looking. Strong enough to hold himself in a street fight, with eyes quick enough to both catch and propagate a cheating move in cards or dice, and forearms lithe from either writing or lonely nights alone as a young man in the Citadel.
Martyn Westerling
Character's Age: 29
Character's Nationality: Andal
Skills:
- Persuasion
-- Charm (82)
-- Seduction (20)
-- Diplomacy (72)
-- Intimidation (20)
- Intrigue
-- Forgery (10)
- Economic
-- Governing (50)
-- Finance (40)
- Atheltics
-- Unarmed combat (55)
-- Sleight of Hand (55)
-- Observation (40)
- Drinking (45)
- Writing (80)
- Languages
-- Valyrian (40)
- Engineering
-- Civil (45)
Character's Personal History:
It would be the circumstances of birth which would see Martyn packed off to the Citadel at the turn of his 12th nameday. The fourth son of a house rich in little more than legacy, the Westerlings could ill-afford the cost of a desterier and a suit of armour typical of a landed-knight status for Martyn, let alone a keep or small patch of dirt and small folk. Instead, he found himself fostered within the libraries, laboratories, halls and ravenries in the center of Westerosi learning. Sullenness and isolation turned the boy to study. Study turned to a propensity for writing, language, and tinkering. Adolescence, the discovery of drink, women and song, combined with the little coin received from the Crag turned the boy from his Sullenness.
Whereas the boy had been content to learn of ancient Valyria, compose essays and papers on the nature of Braavosi mercantile systems, and diagrams outlining improvements to Oldtown's sewage works, the young man found himself entranced by politics, religion, women, and the interplay between. A sharp tongue and a sharper pen would result in a number of treatises and essays on the Faith, worship of the Old Gods, mistakes in the governing system of Westeros, and talk of reform that were considered foundational by some of the Citadel, and extremely subversive by others. It was against this latter group that Martyn would turn his pen while gathered with friends in the taverns and whorehouses of Oldtown. With little consideration for age or experience, slander ranging from more mundane accusations of "such befudledness not seen since the days of Baelor," to more serious insinuations of incest and goat-fuckery the young Martyn soon found himself cast out of the Citadel and into the Faith, the only other institution available for extra-sons from poor noble houses.
If there existed a male equivalent of the Silent Sisters among the septons of the Faith, the faithful of Oldtown might have been spared of Septon Martyn's lashing words and cruel penmanship. This was not to say that Martyn was unversed in the aspects and notions of faith and piety. Indeed, the danger a rival in the Faith might face from Martyn lay in the knowledge he tended to quickly attain concerning their matter of dispute so as to rout them as Robb Stark once routed the Lannisters besieging Riverrun. A typical day for the Septon could easily involve a mixture of prayer, writing, the performance of various rituals and rites for the poor among Oldtown's brothels and docks, followed by dicing, drinking and fighting among the same later in the evening. The interplay of politics, religion and women would become both physical and controversial when Martyn was found in the top floor of a tavern with two very loud Silent Sisters, two flagons of wine, a Pentoshi dwarf, an (apparently) Lyseni whore, three sailors, and absolutely no clothing in site save that which was worn by a very disturbed goat which had somehow be involved in the scandal. It could have been ignored had not one of the silent sisters been a sister to some wife of some Tyrell two generations and three castles removed from the current Lord, and the other a niece of a member of the Most Devout.
While some might say that moment was the scandal which broke any patience remaining among the intelligentsia and nobility of Oldtown, it served more as an excuse to exile the man whom some among both the Citadel and the Starry Sept said would turn the entire Seven Kingdoms on their head if he were allowed anywhere near pen, parchment, and the ravens to distribute the product of both. So Martyn was sent back to the Crag, not defrocked of his status as a septon, something which may have occurred with someone of lowborn status, but with the understanding that he would neither perform his duties as such, nor seek to gather a following. Martyn never returned to his family's homelands, stopping within just another week's journey of his birthplace and now finding himself in the streets, docks, and alleyways to Lannisport. Maybe the predictions of the maesters and septons were right. A man with little coin, no particular love of family, no purpose, but with a little parchment can go a long way if he finds the right set of eyes for his work.
Character's Physical Description:
Joseph Fiennes good-looking. Strong enough to hold himself in a street fight, with eyes quick enough to both catch and propagate a cheating move in cards or dice, and forearms lithe from either writing or lonely nights alone as a young man in the Citadel.