[GHOSTSUNSHADOW] Draece Bryne

Name:
Draece Bryne

Nickname:
The Crimson Devil

Age:
20

Gender:
Male

Species:
Druid

Allegiance to House:
House Lannister

Role to House:
Crimson Cloak Assassin

Personality:
Draece is a man with many concepts of his personality twisted in comparison to what others have defined as the normal standard; what most consider acceptable he finds utterly incomprehensible whereas that which others have branded taboo seem perfectly appropriate to his liking. This ‘perversion’ of his moral code is the result of years of abuse by the children of Westerlands who beat him as a young boy, bullied him and shunned him for being a druid boy. The humiliation endured as a child tainted his perspective on the world leaving him isolated from the world and becoming the ‘peculiar’ boy living outside of town in the old mill. He grew quiet, that stranger found standing in the shadows keeping busy with the many dubious trades that took place in the Westerlands. To compensate for his lack of title, wealth or lineage, Draece would constantly do the jobs others didn’t want to get their hands dirty on; he’d steal, harass, rape and even murder without the slightest moment of hesitation in regards to his conscious for in a way the suffering and sorrow of others brought a smile to his face. All his youth he’d been on the receiving end of someone’s misplaced anger and now he takes his revenge; for Draece it doesn’t matter how long he must wait or what gruesome acts he needs to commit but in the end one can rest assure that every boy that ever laid hands on him will be punished in hundredfold…

Next to having no conscious or moral limits to what he’s willing to do, Draece is generally disturbed, disillusioned and perverted in every way imaginable; the sight of pain, misery and sorrow brings a smug grin to his expression hinting he’s genuinely amused by the troubles of other people. Lately since the day he was rewarded with a position amongst the crimson cloaks by Lady Cersei Lannister herself, Draece began to display the first signs of being hungry with power; he’s known for getting rough with suspects more than necessary and physical with the working girls all because he’s well aware of the protection he’s offered by his employers. Draece is known for being excessively cruel when it comes to extracting confessions out of suspects showing no regard to the fact most of his victims simply admitted guilt to make the pain go away. Towards women his cruelty goes beyond the infliction of physical pain; first he’ll charm them, his mysterious attitude becoming a personal drug to his female victim till they eventually give up their most precious gift and as a reward he rapes them till they beg for mercy and all he’ll leave them with afterwards in the cursed promise that he’ll be back. The twisted game he plays with them after that dreaded day become psychological torture that leaves his victims looking across their shoulder being reminded every year of the day of their abuse…

When it comes to his family life, Draece is a rather secretive individual whose true nature is reserved for behind closed doors; in Nunn’s Deep the Bryne family is shrouded in mystery with their lineage rather unknown till the last two generations. Their father worked in the mines as a supervisor before recently been found guilty of the abuse and murder of seven girls around Nunn’s Deep, their mother seldom seen beyond the privacy of their home in the watermill; Draece has a sister with whom he loves more than most siblings love eachother though only speculations remain regarding the true nature of their relation. Draece and Drian had always shown a rather intimate relation between brother and sister, with the girl being jealous of the girls he brought home while Draece himself couldn’t tolerate another man even looking at his sister. Folks often believe their love goes further than sibling affections for one another though none truly know just how intimate those two are; since they both came off age, having come together by their mutual hatred for their father, Drian and Draece began to explore sensual and sexual options with one another in a forbidden fantasy; there have been times he was caught playing with himself when his sister was bathing in the stream outside their home and once the Bryne siblings have been kissing passionately by their front door when a messenger sent word of a job for him on behalf of his employers in House Lannister…

Physical Description:
Physically Draece inherited his father’s look before those vanished in the passing of time when the pounds began to add and the wrinkled began to show; he’s off average build around 5 feet 10 tall rather lean and slender physically with just subtle hints of muscle definitions on his person. The distinct traits of the druids are featured prominently in Draece’s outward appearance with the eyes capable of changing color from the icy blue to a venomous green and the pale skin complexion that never get tanned no matter how long exposed to the sun. He’s got hair shoulder’s length in a dark sienna shade that’s often wild and poorly groomed giving him that bewildered look, once more establishing the savage nature of the druid kind. On various occasions he’ll even refrain from shaving to appear more rugged often serving a role within his dubious professional career yet this also brings a different feature along; Draece is a master of disguises and camouflage whose entire appearance can be altered in such a subtle way even his own mother might have had difficulties identifying him…

Fashion wise there are two different faces to Draece Bryne from Nunn’s Deep, each representing one particular side to his professional career. On one side there’s glamorous prestige that comes with his honored position amongst the Crimson Cloaks that Lady Cersei Lannister had offered him; a shiny castle forged polished steel cuirass with decorative etchings guards his torso from enemy attacks while a warm doublet of warm crimson hugs his frame tightly with its silver adornments giving it that esteemed look. Most of the Crimson Cloaks can’t grasp how a lowly man like Draece can afford such refined metalwork yet the entire attire is a personal gift that Cersei extended him for services provided as the armor even bares the signature of House Lannisters’ personal blacksmith. As one of the Lannisters’ personal guard only the finest quality of armor and tailoring is good enough so finely woven silk shirts and matching coats and cloaks are part of his daily uniform…

On the other hand there’s his alter ego as the Crimson Devil, one of the most wanted, elusive assassins currently rumored to operate within the Westerlands that goes dressed in his signature attire; with a blood red leather cloak that shrouds his face in the shadows of his hood Draece runs around as the masked villain notorious for a series of heinous crimes. The mask associated with this infamous figure speaks most to the imagination as a black wooden mask tainted with the spilled blood of his victims sits firmly on his nose. With three sets of horns carved out of bone fixed to the mask the Devil became a dreaded figure of the night in the Westerlands having left a series of bodies in his wake. Beneath the diabolical cloak he wears a peculiar suit of armor reminding folks of scales strung together with black wire, that’s able of stopping a common arrow dead in its tracks while preventing a blade to cut too deep in his flesh underneath. This side of his life is kept hidden though from all eyes even his family who’re not believed to understand why he does what he does for those who’ve requested such gruesome actions to take place in the Westerlands….

Powers and Abilities:
At a young age Draece began to experiment with alchemy and medicine soon discovering an aptitude towards the distillery of deathly poisons and potent paralytics. He learnt to bottle death in crystal flasks, brewed from plant extracts and herbal infusions; as a druid he knows instinctively which plants to harvest, which flowers to pluck and which to root to crush to create the ultimate draught with fatal consequences for those unfortunate enough to find a drop in their glass. When he was nine his creation cost the life of an entire herd of sheep when Draece completed his first couple of vials of ‘The Strangler’ venom; week after that incident he managed to unravel the secret formula to brewing Tears of Lys and Widow’s Blood that Draece sold in the many shady establishments found throughout the Westerlands. Some say it was his poison that Petyr Baelish used to kill Jon Arryn with for nobody else in Westeros is rumored to know the secrets to these lethal poisons currently on the market…

Part of his druid heritage Draece possesses the unique ability that enables him to speak to animals; in Nunn’s Deep folks are aware of this remarkable talent, coming to him when their horses have gone wild again or when their dogs had attacked a child in the village. First he used it to do well helping people tame even the most feral of creatures as even a lesser noble had asked him to speak to a real lion that would be presented to the Lannisters as a gift. Afterwards in his intention grew darker and more sinister as countless anima related incidents claimed the lives of known Lannister haters; horses would stagger and throw their masters into deathly falls, hounds would turn on their masters and go savage while one lady even fell from the balcony of her castle tower apparently attacked by the white song birds she groomed for a hobby. Draece is an expert when it comes to making things look like accidents all because his whispered instructions to an animal’s ear can never be proven…

With his sister Draece shares a peculiar bond that leaves many rumors to go about the Bryne siblings though none truly know how connected they are; since their childhood brother and sister could communicate telepathically with one another, hearing the other’s voice inside their head. When her father abused her, Draece would comfort her and reassure her he’ll meet his end for his crimes and when he was being beaten and humiliated by Westerlands’ children, her voice would grant him the strength to endure the continuous mockery. They can talk in private even when they’re leagues apart from one another to share their feelings, their thoughts and even their desires that aren’t to be spoken off out loud. They can sooth eachother’s troubles, calm their worries and even flirt with eachother without ever so much as opening their mouths for thanks to this ability they’re offered pure privacy…

Strengths:
• Cruelty
• Deception
• Perversion

Weaknesses:
• Fidelity
• Mockery
• Strangers

Weapons of Choice:
“Bittersteel, that’s the name your sword said Lady Cersei Lannister on the day she offered him a Crimson Cloak for the steel is from Valyria more precious than any other alloy in the world though none ever laid hands on this one because of its bite. This blade has been in the vaults of my family for generations untouched for those that attempted to wield it, perished to the curse upon it but for a man of your… trade, I’m certain you can master whatever fatal bane lurks within that sheathe”, those were the words by which his mistress offered him this wondrous sword that unveiled its darkest secret to him upon the day he first touched it. The grip carved out of what seemed to be polished ivory was oil coated water hemlock, one of nature’s most poisonous saplings that strike their victims with heinous convulsions and tremors weither the master holding the sword or those unfortunate to face its deathly steel. For Draece most fortunately being born a druid does come with certain privileges that guard him from Bittersteel’s indistinguishing tendency to leave bodies in its grim passage…

While Bittersteel is a precious reward his mistress offered him, Maul on the other hand lacks all the grace and beauty of that Valyrian heirloom Draece also carries; Maul is a crude six flanged mace crafted from Maraging steel blackened by the blacksmith’s fires. Its shafted crafted out of an elder ebony log lacks any flourished details or distinctions other than the necessary fixtures out of copper rivets that bind mace head and grip to the wooden core. The handle is raw animal hide tanned and boiled prior to being string in thick ribbons around the steel grip of the weapon giving a rather uncomfortable yet never slipping grip upon the heavy weapon. Usually viewed a peasant’s choice of arms in times of wars Draece’s reluctant use of Maul has led to constant mockery by the Crimson Cloak who later in the week will find themselves waking up with a ferocious headache or even a skull caved in where Maul struck them from the shadows. A blunt weapon like Maul chews through the steel shields of enemies or even crushes their heads merely by bending the helmets worn to guard them from such injuries…

Armor of Choice:
Received as another gift from Lady Cersei, Draece goes featured in a most lavish and rich breastplate amongst the Crimson Cloak ranks. Most of the knights and higher ranked officers have speculated something rather dubious going on with their latest member for a cuirass out of gilded steel of such quality and with such copious details are not usually to be found on the shoulders of a miner’s son. Gold leaf covers the entire surface where a perfect symmetrical design stands so prominently on display; ivy and vines seemed to come alive within the golden finish while a naked angel with legs spreads is the “Pièce de Résistence” right in the center of this prestigious suit of armor. Amongst the elements of flora and fauna on the cuirass there are faces, grotesque masks maimed by terrors one couldn’t hope to ever grasp in the dreaded reputation of the druid’s past ‘missions’. Some Crimson Cloaks have suspected not all Draece’s missions indeed serve the best interest of the Westerlands but more like those of the Lannisters personally…

Background History:
Nunn’s Deep the last settlements where druids once lived freely and unwatched by the others in this world had been the home to the Bryne family for generations; small folks they were, not worth mentioning in the books of history other than being the owners of the old water mill in the woods beyond the village. When gold was struck from those mountains the Lannisters conquered the town with brute force, killing all those who were blessed with the Mark of the Druid with the exception of a single man. Horace Bryne, a stout man with a grim blank face who operated the old watermill betrayed his own people for the meager comfort of being spared the druid’s fate in Nunn’s Deep that soon marked a dark day. When the night was longest in the year and light no longer seemed to reach this isolated corner of the Westerlands the heads of all druids stood upon spikes around the ghost town of Nunn’s Deep where Bryne was but the last bleak reminder of the kind that once reigned these green corners of Westeros. Lannisters later stationed a brigade of guards there while the mountain was being drilled for the precious gold that resided within the veins in the stone. Miners gathered from remote locations for just a glimpse of the wealth hidden for generations here by the druids defending those mountains while slowly the forests were being cut down to expand the quarry. All these changes were supervised by the hated Horace Bryne whose treacherous nature was only spoken off with hush whispers to avoid the crack of his whip coming down on them…

After a couple of years with the mine opened in Nunn’s Deep, Horace Bryne took himself a wife, a young peasant’s daughter wedded to him in a remorseful attempt by her father to sooth his boss’ wrath and within the year planted his wretched seed inside of her. Folks spoke of dark magic involved when they saw his wife weaken while her stomach swelled to two times the normal size of a lady with child; others called it the punishment of the druid souls Horace had betrayed that would rob him of his only loved one. The first child was a girl, named Drian who’d come to grow up into her mother’s mirror image while two years later Horace wife endured such a second pregnancy that eventually claimed her life. With two children to raise in a motherless home, complications in their childhood were destined to occur though none would have seen the gravity of those defects. Drian grew up in the spitting image of her mother, beautiful and sexual with skin like the finest silk and eyes like XXXXXX while Draece became the odd bird around Nunn’s Deep; young perhaps in appearance his soul was aged far beyond his years weighed down by the burden of the constant humiliations and mockery he was to endure when he went to the Maester for his education. Local kids called him names, threw rocks at him and continued pointing out the cross he was left to bear by carrying the Mark of the Druid just behind his ear. There were days he’d come home with bones broken, skin bruised and cuts so deep the bleeding could only be stopped by his sister’s blessed touch; a touch that would soon develop in something more…

When Draece grew up, he began to look at his sister in a way no brother should look at his sister for hidden in the shrubbery he’d lurk when Drian bathed in the stream outside their home. He’d been there hidden beneath the bed when her sheets were stained by the marks of her first flowering which became like a drug to him; blood and the knowledge of the pure fertility she possessed developed into a warped sense of love and affection towards his sister to take root in his heart. Draece was in her room when their father forced himself on her, watching through the crack in her wooden wardrobe while his old man took advantage of the girl he loved; he felt himself drawn towards the act, the cries, the moans and the scratching when his sister first resisted but then gave into the carnal sin of incestuous lust. Never did he understand how his father could call Drian his little princess yet treat her like those filthy brothel girls working in the dark alleys of the cities; he didn’t know how much she enjoyed her father’s affectionate touch becoming to grow envious and spiteful towards the man who’d brought him into this world. That hatred grew inside of him and when the blond bullies continued their mocking games, Draece felt a darkness grow inside him; the darkness infamous by the druids for consuming one’s soul and leaving a man empty except for all the evils that linger in this world. Every time he now watched his father spread Drian’s legs apart making her feel like a woman, Draece would touch himself though soon his own hand could no longer fulfill his needs. With every nightly acts happening between father and daughter, the son would venture into the night disguised by a crimson hood and a devil’s mask to rape a girl from the village; those who’d unmasked him in the act were killed, their blood spilled to guard his identity from being revealed without exceptions or even a hint of remorse…

Draece’s first murder was clumsy and amateurish with the cuts shallow and unnecessarily hesitant for the blood seemed to be everywhere; it had been the day Drian had stopped resisting his father’s advances and simply offered herself to him on a whim like she longed for it. He’d seen her undress, those perky young breasts revealed to him after he’d spied on her through a peephole in the wall and again it had been their father who was rewarded with her most precious gift to leave him sitting on his appetite. It had been the farmer’s daughter from the old vineyard, the girl with the little freckles and hair in the triangle between her legs that matched the copper shade of her long curls. With the leather devil’s mask on and his face hidden in the shadows of a hood he’d waited for her to go to the barn like she did every day after dusk fell over the fields and there in the soft bed of hay he’d stole her maidenhood from her and reward her with the cold cut of a knife across her throat. Like a fountain he was sprayed in the warm crimson that tasted like rusty waters when the life faded from her eyes yet the violence of a death could not compare to the heated dreams he had off his precious sister. When he was eleven though, Drian discovered her younger brother playing with the friend down his pants when she was bathing; rather than being scalded for his perverted affection for her, Drian rewarded his complimentary attention by offering him a hand in his sinful game. From that day forth the Bryne siblings began to explore an entirely new love together, hands going where only a lover’s hands were supposed to go, kisses deep and sensual exchanged in the privacy of their home or in the secluded parts of the forest and every so often Drian would ask Draece to bath with him yet never did she offer herself fully to him…

Her father began to come more frequent to Drian’s room when she got older; her body becoming more curved in the right places, her touch more praised but most of all by her maidenhood already plucked no man in Nunn’s Deep ever wished to lay hands on her in that manner. The mine began to provide fewer gold with each month passed and with the stress of work getting to their father, his visits to Drian got more violent, more about hurting and humiliating her than to simply indulge in her raw sexuality. One night Draece had watched the sheets colored crimson though not by his sister’s flowering and upon that night it was that she came into his room. Still smelling of sex she’d straddled in his lap, kissed him with a passion she’d seldom shown him before those lips spoke dark whispers to his ear. “If you truly love me brother, you’ll kill father for me and then you can have all this…” And her fingers took his hand guiding it down to that warm spot between her legs that he’d so desired. Draece bit on his lip, the price offered so beloved, so precious to him that the act of patricide no longer seemed an obstacle to him. His fingers wanted to reach for that precious gift but Drian denied him even the faintest hint of that ultimate reward for first he had to do that which none could ever forgive; to murder one’s own father was a crime so wretched, so loathsome in Westeros that kinslayer was the gravest of insults to be burdened with yet all the young Draece could now think off what to truly love his sister; to truly have her like a husband would and so he began to work towards that gruesome act…

The next day Draece left his parental home; only twelve years of age with a sack of supplies on his back, a brief kiss on his cheek and his sister’s panties to remind himself of the task at hand he’d ventured to the West to begin the scheme he’d devised in the darkness of the past night. There was much that needed to be done and many sins to commit to achieve that which his sister had asked of him though not the Seven or the Old Gods could hope to stop the determined young druid on his way to Casterly Rock. Along the way he left ruins behind to mark the beginning of his plot for behind the facelessness of the devil’s mask he’d began a murder and rape spree that left the Westerlands in a state of alert. He’d arrive in village where the streets were lined with wanted signs to this elusive killer yet Draece didn’t do those vile acts for the grim reaper reputation he acquired with them; now those actions were pieces to a bigger puzzle, parts of a big machine that was set in motions by the woman he so desired. The girls he raped were allowed to flee only to testify to the gruesome abuse they endured by the Crimson Devil while those unfortunate enough to unmask him would face a fate worse than death; he’d make examples out of them, grim canvases of macabre art where blood became the dye to his gruesome paintings around the horrifying sculptures made out of maimed bodies. Some who began to suspect him then were silently eliminated, all falling to suspicious accidents that either involved a sudden fainting to illness or an unfortunate incident with animals…

Along his travels he’d send a raven every week to his sister, letters declaring his love and dreams to her always ended with that signature that read: “My promise to you has not been forgotten…” For 8 years every week he’d given his sister the soothing comfort of his words carried to her eyes by a raven, telling of his adventures and his plans for their future together always under the signed name “Your beloved” so that none would know of their forbidden love. His journey to Casterly Rock had taken two years and for the other six he’d roamed the streets of Lannisport and the Lannister Keep where his obscured skills become a service for hire to those with a purse that could fund his appetite for savagery. Sometimes he’d work for smugglers and thieves who wished him to eliminate a meddlesome guard that paid too much attention to their activities; other times he’d made political enemies disappear so that certain individuals could take up certain positions within the cities higher societal circles. The Crimson Devil continued his spree leaving more women to describe the mask and attire of this vile criminal to the smallest detail and more bodies to be added to the graveyards in the Westerlands. Sometimes when a sheriff got too close to the truth, his next hunting expedition would go horribly wrong with a horse trampling its rider or hounds turning against their master all rather suspicious yet always without evidence to tie Draece to the scene. On different occasions he’d work as a sellsword to do petty enforcer work but for those with plenty of gold, enemies could vanish of the face of the world and foes could suffer a most unfortunate accident that steals them from this world and that particular talent reached rather important ears in Casterly Rock…

When Draece had seen his nineteenth winter an unexpected turn of events occurred on what first appeared to be a regular Sunday afternoon in the tavern; with the ill-gained wealth he’d amassed privacy was bought in the backroom of the tavern where every day he spend precious hours writing those letters to his beloved sister still in Nunn’s Deep. A knocking, gentle and soft like the touch of a woman’s hand was head upon the door of his quarters yet Draece had no knowledge of a guest on this evening; sometimes a tavern wench would enter his chambers for a night of wild lusty activities yet those arrangements were usually scheduled unlike this unknown guest by his door. He’d moved aside the slider peephole but all he could see was a satin cloak hiding the face of his guest yet the hand carried evidence of a far more intriguing question; an elegant hand, a woman’s obviously wore a small amount of gorgeous rings each crafted out of the finest gold with gemstones so brilliant it seemed like stars caught within the jewelry. Only a person of fathomless wealth could spend such a fortune of small trinkets though just one family in these lands possessed funds like that: Lannisters. Draece opened the door and let his guest in who to his surprise was none other than lady Cersei herself; the strikingly beautiful woman with classic Lannister looks: blonde hair, brilliant green eyes, fair skin, and a slender, graceful figure took a seat on his bed, one leg graciously crossed over the other when she gestured him to come over. “There are matters I wish to discuss with you, Draece Bryne of Nunn’s Deep and if you accept my offer, there will be rewards beyond your wildest dreams offered to you…” And with those mysterious words a most dubious arrangement was stricken between the Lady of Casterly Rock and the druid…

Some months had gone by since that visit and a lot had changed by the agreement struck; from the lowly criminal future that had awaited him, Draece suddenly was awarded with a Crimson Cloak across his shoulders, a Valyrian steel sword on his belt and a gold plated cuirass on his frame more expensive than all the wealth dug from the mines of Nunn’s Deep in a generation. He’d become a person of importance in Casterly Rock, feared and loathed by the people, shunned and suspected by his fellow Crimson Cloaks all with notions regarding Draece sudden climb to power. Rumors quickly spread of him being another protégé of the Lady of Casterly Rock though most who dared to usher those words out loud would meet an untimely end by accident or sudden illness all by ‘aided’ causes. His crimes now became part of his reputation for a commoner was never permitted to accuse a Crimson Cloak of crimes without having evidence to prove their allegations and those who dared had the tendency to disappear into the deep waters of the docks in Lannisport. When the Crimson Cloaks patrolled, Draece would stay behind and when he was summoned for a mission all information regarding his assignment was kept behind closed doors; in Casterly Rock none including the captain of the Crimson Cloaks knew exactly what he did to have earned his position though in the darkest shadows of the Westerlands Draece would do his mistress’ bidding like her person attack dog on a leash. She’d asked him to eliminate all enemies within her father’s lands under the guise of accidents and incidents, leaving behind no evidence of the Lannisters’ involvement; he’d kill those nobles that dared to speak of the incestuous relation of the Lannister twins and framed the opposition of crimes that would take them to the executioner block before anyone granted them permission to speak. Draece handed those delicate matters on behalf of the Lady of Casterly Rock with the utmost discretion while becoming untouchable by others who’d wished to see him punished…

Now with his fancy title and Lady Cersei Lannisters’ personal protection Draece set the final steps of his scheme in motion; eight years of preparations it had taken to make for the perfect crime and now all the pieces of the puzzle would fall together just like he’d planned. With haste he traveled back to Nunn’s Deep to guarantee his sister does no longer have to endure that foul crime of their father forced himself on her ever again. On the back of a black horse he sped from Casterly Rock to Nunn’s Deep, his journey kept secret by the shroud of darkness that permitted him to arrive undetected in his hometown when the sun crawled slowly across the hills in the east. There hidden in the same shrubbery he once sat when his sister bathed in the stream, Draece waited for his father to leave to the mines before unfolding his masterly plan. Through the upstairs window he climbed inside his old bedroom, snuck over to Drian’s room who still looked as beautiful as he remembered; for moments he just stood there looking at her sleep for legs long and graceful laid wrapped within those linen sheets unworthy of such splendor. With a hand over her mouth he woke his sister, greeting her with that comforting smile that ensured her all would be alright from now on; the first light of dawn fell upon his gold plated armor turning it into a reflection of the sun itself to welcome her before he told her to get dressed and head to the town square to see what was about to happen next. After she left, Draece sniffer her pillow finding that same exciting sensual kiss of her perfume blend with her natural warmth in the fabric reminding him of the many nights he’d laid with whores while fantasizing of his own sister. Before nightfall she’d be his just like she had promised that one blessed night when he was but a boy…

Once Drian had left the home, disappeared within the dense undergrowth of the forest around the old watermill towards Nunn’s Deep Draece assembled the final pieces of his masterpiece. He’d ventured to his father’s room finding that loose floorboard that served as the old man’s hidden stash for stolen lumps of gold from the mine. With gloves on he’d pried it open and carefully placed a satin wrapped parcel in the tiny hideaway; then with the stealth of a shadow he’d moved through the house leaving behind more tiny parcels tightly wrapped in cloth within the small hiding spots found throughout the water mill before slipping outside undetected. None would know he’d been here yet Draece would bring a disturbing revelation to Nunn’s Deep that would leave the Westerlands in shock while guaranteeing his position as a successful Crimson Cloak. Back in the saddle of his horse he headed to the mine calling out loudly for his father in addition to the heavy accusations. “Horace Bryne of Nunn’s Deep, supervisor of the mines, under the authority of the Crimson Cloaks and House Lannister of the Westerlands you’re hereby accused and arrested for being the Crimson Devil guilty of the murder of eighteen women and the rape of thirty seven more.” With a sinister smirk Draece slid from the saddle and shackled his father in steel cuffs before any objections could be uttered in protest; a villager in the crowd demanded evidence and with a smile the druid son approved the request. Followed by nearly everyone from the mine they’d returned to the watermill where piece by piece Draece revealed the evidence he’d planted there; jewelry taken from the murdered girls was pulled from every crack and corner in the home as morbid souvenirs for the Devil’s crimes before the executioner’s axe would inevitably fall when he pulled the signature mask from under the floorboard. The people watched in shock at the evidence being revealed and already the crowd demanded Horace’s head; others already casted stones and pebbles towards the framed father. The folks demanded justice unaware of the truth yet right now that no longer mattered; a Crimson Cloak was permitted to sentence a wanted man without further permission and so with certain joy Draece announced the executioner’s method. “For the crimes now prove, Horace Bryne of Nunn’s Deep you’ll be stripped of all lands and properties to be passed to your heirs before facing the judgment of the Seven. I hereby sentence you to death by Threefold death. You’ll be hung by the neck till death, quartered before your entrails are removed and burned in the fire before your eyes until death follows. Your head will be placed upon a pike and send to Casterly Rock to forever guard the walls as an example of the fate for those who defy Lannister law…” And so under the applause and bloodthirsty cheers of Nunn’s Deep population the sentence was executed leaving Draece now to claim his reward…

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