starter for: @goldcoat where: the island of harlaw, within the thick of the fighting
He stood out amongst the cloaks of gold and crimson red, stood out amongst the sounds of war cries and the cries of men screaming their last words and curses to the Gods themselves. His presence stood out amongst those who rippled fury and hate, who seemed to curse vengeance and how it many years it had taken to it; because his fury was a still one. Tyland Lannister would not allow himself to lose grip of an element of control, each move was a calculated, careful decision with risk moved; the wildfire that seemed to lick at his orbs was what made it obvious he was hardly human in this moment.
With each step, his blade sliced through a man, watching crimson pour from the chest, from the throat, from the face itself; it had been years since he had used the grip on his sword, the grip one needed to use when slicing through flesh and blood itself like he were a butcher. He was a butcher in this moment, the features of the golden lion coated in the blood of his enemies, his majestic armour of black, gold and maroon washed in a slick of red.
And when he looked up in the chaos, the sound of clashing steel surrounding him, his orbs fixed upon the sight before him - the Harlaw emblem, emblazoned, another regiment of men. There were hundreds within the streets, washed in a cascade of blood; and he saw a Harlaw lord baring an axe, butchering through Westerland and Reach men.
He was on his horse as fire and chaos spread around him, spear in hand; and within a flash, he had been trampled, speared in the stomach, the Lion King had jumped from his horse to drag delve his blade into him a final time. That was when he saw Jason from the corner of his eye; coated in every much a bit of blood as he was.
This was who they were. This was for their pride. Their lands.
"We hold here before we move to Ten Towers." He bellowed over the sound of his blade being yanked from a Harlaw lord's gushing wound; the first blood had been struck. More would come.
