>>797730
boring

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“Things around Dothraki tend to turn violent,” you explain. “I suggest we prepare ourselves for a potential scrap. Stick together and keep marching, but I think your sister may be in the process of conquering and burning this city to the ground.”

As one tightly-knit, cosmopolitan cluster, you push forward. Allant stops talking with the guard captain completely as you do. Annoyed at being ignored for a split second, the Meereenese soldier turns around to spy the subject of Allant's indecipherable gaze – which just happens to be your group.

Surging closer to the pyramid of House Loraq, Viserys takes the lead as he drinks in the form of his former drinking buddy. Simultaneously, roughly fifteen relatively unoccupied Dothraki take notice of your outstandingly unique presence and begin descending upon you like a pack of hyenas prepared to feast.

Only once they began shouting at you in their mother tongue does Viserys raise his voice, disgust plain in his tone.

“Allant!” Viserys yells, hand falling to the sword tied at his waist. “Tell these savages to back away. They are harrying a KING. And what is the meaning of –”

“Your sister is dead,” Allant calls out, the interrupting reply fired in an eerily calm tone. Raina genuinely gasps and you yourself find your jaw hanging slack as that abrupt revelation seems to wash the chaotic scene in a perverse silence. Even the surrounding Dothraki seem to take pause as they notice Allant speaking with you directly in a language few of them probably have a good grasp upon.

“ . . . What?” the dragon prince asks, horrified after taking a moment to register his friend's words.

“She was slain mere moments ago by an assassin,” the earthling explains with as much emotion as if he was relaying what he'd eaten for breakfast that morning.

A few seconds pass before you notice the exotic, silver-haired noble absolutely shaking in his saddle. His whole body shuddering as he takes in the news. In what looks to be a haze of confusion and uncertainty – frankly it seems you're all currently embroiled in feelings that are at least similar, if not as extreme, as what Viserys must be feeling right now – the young man dismounts his horse in a fluid slide. You'd swear he had merely fallen or was in the process of fainting if he hadn't landed squarely on his feet.

Putting a hand up to the neck of his horse, Viserys uses the living source of stability to maintain his balance.

“Where is she?” the lilac-eyed lunatic softly demands.

Whatever emotionless malaise Allant seemed swept up in before seems to genuinely melt for a moment as he observes the prince's reaction.

“Look Viserys –”

“WHERE IS SHE?!” the dragon roars so fiercely and with such vigor that it startles you all. Allant himself flinches and a few Dothraki find the jarring change in atmosphere due to Viserys's outburst reason enough to apprehend him.

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Only a raised, open palm from Allant and a quick muttering in the Dothraki tongue halts their intended actions. “Up the pyramid steps. I'll have one of my own guard escort you, your Grace.”

“Thank you,” Viserys mutters more to the ground or himself than to Allant as the mustachioed man gives a rapid order to one of his horse nomad allies.

Trodding after Allant's almond-eyed subordinate like a sullen toddler, Viserys departs your little group on foot, leaving his horse to mill about fruitlessly.

As you're promptly abandoned by your glorious leader, the hawkish and continuous gaze of the smattering of Dothraki killers particularly alarms you for some reason. The Midwife of Dragons pays no heed to the nervousness his men are eliciting and instead turns back to the city guardsman who he was arguing with earlier. They speak in a few more hushed whispers, Allant sparing you a few glances during their talk before fully returning his gaze to your group at the conversation's apparent conclusion.

“The rest of you,” Allant summons a commanding pitch as he addresses those of you left to flounder without guidance or purpose in the middle of Meereen. “I'm going to need you to dismount your horses and relinquish your weapons.”

>No
>Yes
>Run
>Something else? (write-in)

>>797760
>Something else? (write-in)

offers ourselves as a sex slave
when in meereen, do as they do

>Something else? (write-in)
"I am an adherent of R'hllor. Should you let me perform her last rites, there's a chance a miracle may happen."
"Naturally, me carrying around all these materials with known magical properties couldn't hurt your chances, if you catch my drift?"

>>797830
this

>>797807
Supporting

It looks like we might have to make a quick exit overnight if we want to deal our damage amidst the chaos of the riot. We should burn the harbor on our way out and maybe steal Viserys's ship while we're at it. Remember, noone will really know its us before its too late when a Dothraki riot is occuring.

Blood of two kings, Viserys and Drogo.
Blood of a sorcerer, Will.
Three dragons in attendance.
Obsidian from her birthplace.
Weirwood from her homeland.
Valyrian steel from her ancestral home.
Bone from the dragons of her ancestors.

Let us see if we cannot steal a death.

>>797830
Also, a cheeky option is to tell him Valar morghulis and leave it at that

>>797830
+1

>>797830
The whole point of us being here is that we were tasked with stopping the invasion. We're an agent of Stannis not some miracle worker going around reviving everyone we see. (But it would be nice to take the queen's blood for our magic purposes.)

>>797969
Our job is to stop the dragons from invading, nothing more.

>>797969
Stannis said that he's not afraid of the Dothraki, but he can't win against the Dragons.

>>797760
>ask what alant intends to do now
Welp that makes things a lot easier.

where the fuck is op i wann a do some blood bending shit

One thing we shouldn't compromise on is that we will not give our spear to anyone, seeing that it's our most prized possession.

We may leave it into ship for safekeeping with our loyal men, but we will not leave it with the same people who they pay to handle our coats.

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“I am an adherent of R'hllor,” you tell him. “Should you let me perform her last rites, there is a chance a miracle may happen.”

Allant squints and looks you up and down. “Guess that explains the red get-up,” he mutters. “You think you can pull off a Jon?”

You shrug. “Perhaps. I offer no promises.”

You watch Allant weigh the pros and cons in his head for a split second. “Fuck it. Sure. Get off your horse and follow me.” He looks back to Othello, Kojja, Belwas, Chiggen, Bronn, Plague and Raina. “The rest of you, do as I said. Dismount and disarm. Now.”

Allant then turns to the guard captain and relays a few orders to be carried out in his absence.

Bronn gulps as he watches you dismount and stride towards the pyramid. You give a look over your shoulder at the conglomerate of people you're leaving behind for what is hopefully just one particularly long moment. Already, you spy Othello reluctantly relieving his person of a few knives at his belt.

“The Khal is out hunting,” Allant informs you in a forced, even tone, snapping your focus to the back of his head as you move towards to your destination. He brushes a lock of his brunette hair behind one ear. “I don't know when he'll be back, but I'm going to need either a living Daenerys or an outlet for his ungodly fucking rage. Shit shit shit shit shit.”

. . .

After entering the pyramid, Allant guides you up a set of interior stairs that are so wide across you could fit two carriages traveling abreast. Once you think yourself near the pyramid's zenith, he leads you onto a floor not quite at the apex, but near enough that it is clear these are some ritzy guest chambers Daenerys has been living at.

The sound of sobbing women rings out past the exquisitely carved, bronze double doors that separate you from the Mother of Dragon's personal apartments.

The Dothraki warrior you had seen escorting Viserys earlier stands guard outside and allows you entry after a few words of assurance from your fellow earthling guide.

The hinges squeal as Allant pulls open the door and gestures for you to pass through first, ahead of him.

Inside, you spy three more Dothraki fighters, clustered around a large, decorated canopy bed. They look sullen and ashamed. Laid upon the feather bed, looking as if she was merely asleep, is Daenerys's corpse. Curled up beside her deceased flesh you spy two dragons – the cream-colored one from before as well as the shimmering emerald and bronze scales of Rhaegal. They nuzzle their formerly living mother.

The source of the sobbing you heard earlier comes from a group of four handmaids at her bedside. Two of Dothraki descent – Irri and Jhiqui. A fair-haired, blue-eyed girl who you take to be Doreah. And a fourth who . . . looks oddly like a Dothraki, but seems to have oddly distinct facial feature which make her stand out from the others.

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The sudden wail of a distressed babe draws your gaze across the room to spy a scene that strikes you oddly.

Sitting at the head of a long, varnished oak table in a plush chair, Viserys rocks a bundle of cloth that you can only assume contains the crying form of Daenerys's son. You see the dragon prince's lips mouth barely whispered words to his nephew, too low for you to hear as he attempts to calm the infant.

Eyes all around the room are drawn to your form as you upset the status quo with your newly arrived presence.

The door closes shut behind you. Allant strides past and orders them all aside in Dothraki, making shooing motions with his hands to emphasize the need for space. The men and women retreat from the bed while Allant bends down and scoops up the dragons. They hiss at him, but do not bite or scratch as he deposits them on the tabletop, grabbing a bowl of honeyed locusts and placing it before them so they can chow down for a moment, distracted.

He locks eyes with you and nods for you to begin now that your ritual space has been cleared.

“What are you doing?” Viserys asks with stifled concern, a perplexed expression gracing his elfin features as he looks between you two in search for some answer.

>Roll me 1d100, best of 3

Rolled 80 (1d100)

>>801204
FUCKING REVIVE ALREADY

Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>801204

Rolled 15 (1d100)

>>801204

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>>801218

The whole reason we're here was to stop Danerys.
Instead we're trying to revive her, if we left it as it is the Invasion would've failed and we could've been on our merry way, preferably profiting from some treachery to Viserys.
But thats my two cents, maybe we should revive slaver Danerys and pray she wont try and retake her birthright with her dragons.
If we were shrewd we would've taken advantage of the anarchy, not try and stop it.

>>801366
Perhaps.
However, that way lies the risk that we either become an outlet for the Khal's wrath or that Viserys gains the Dragons.
This way, even should we fail, we are more or less cleared of suspicions.

Furthermore, it would likely trigger the invasion immediately, which might have been ok should we have had a method to deal with the dragons.

Succeed and they will be indebted to us.

>>801412
I mean, if we were true to our mission we would try to cause as much damage as possible and get out of there.
We could alternatively try our hand at some magic during the revival and make Danerys magically bound to us or weaken her greatly as when someone is revived they lose a part of themselves, we could amplify that.

Or we could keep some of her blood for safe keeping as some magic rituals are amplified by king/queen blood.

Too be, or not to be, the red God decides

>>801666
I see our primary objective being dragons.
Westeros is well equipped to deal with a Dothraki invasion.
Managing to soften the blow is a great thing, but it's really the dragons that are the biggest issue.

Rolled 28 (1d100)

Rolling for dragon dreams.

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You sigh out. You really don't want to disappoint and end up the scapegoat here. You approach the canopy bed, your robes rustling slightly as you move.

You swallow heavily as you spy her delicate features up close, like those of a porcelain doll in repose. A cursory glance doesn't inform you of the cause of death. You look back to Allant.

“Poison?” you question.

He nods. “Via a dart. She had only enough strength in her final moments call for her handmaids.”

You nod at hearing the circumstances of her passing. Getting down on your knees, you kneel before her, leaning over her face.

Viserys stands, still holding the baby. “What is he doing?”

“Quiet!” Allant retorts, intimidating the young man into silence.

Realizing you lack the proper, prepared alchemical liquids to perform this rite, worry sets in. But if previous experiments still prove true, you believe yourself to have a working substitute on hand.

Or in your hands, to be precise.

Drawing forth your masterwork dagger, you slit open your palm and drip ruby red lifeblood into your mouth.

You can hear the growling and grumbling of the Dothraki spectators.

“Maegi,” is whispered by male and female voices alike. Allant simply shushes them coolly, his eyes glued to the work you do.

The taste is tangy, like pennies. It disgusts you to do as such, but you swish the red liquid around to coat your lips and teeth with it before swallowing the excess fluid.

Then you take a deep breath and utter the prayer.

“Lord, cast your light upon this woman. Your servant. Bring her back from death and darkness. Her flame has been extinguished. Restore it. And let her know peace in the beyond amidst your light. For the dawn is bright and full of wonders.”

Suddenly, your mouth feels aflame, as if you had swallowed scalding hot tea. Pain sears itself into your cheeks and gums as the reluctant watchers of this ritual gasp at whatever it is they see.

Good. Hopefully that means this is working.

You press your lips against the Khaleesi's own and feel the raging, stinging fire slowly slip out. You hold your position until all that is left of the burning heat is the lasting taste of pain and the feel of a cracked and ruined tongue, nerves deadened from scorching life fire.

When you believe your part finished, you pull back and examine the body. A light so bright that it visibly shines from within her pale flesh travels down the interior of her throat and spreads itself through her chest and arms, gliding beneath the slip of a golden gown she wears in death.

Rising to your feet, you watch and yearn for an indication of success.

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A few long oments pass and nothing transpires. You grimace at your failure, but it is Viserys who first breaks the silence.

“My family has worshipped the Seven for generations!” he spits. “This Essossi barbarism is an insult to our traditions.”

You squeeze your eyes shut at the criticism. You look to Allant, whose eyes are still focused on the lifeless body. “I'm sorry. I tried my –”

“Wait,” he orders, holding up a finger. You furrow your brow in confusion, before looking back to the inanimate Daenerys.

. . . nothing.

. . . nothing.

. . . still noth –

“HAUGH!” she gasps, as her eyelids flutter open to reveal panicked purple pupils.

“Fucking knew it.” Allant mutters before moving towards the bed with purpose. Everyone else in the room either stands there dumbfounded or recoils slightly at the sight of their queen's rebirth.

You step back as Daenerys sits up in bed. She looks around the room as her arms practically flail in their intense scrabble for purchase, desperate in hope for a futile escape from the bone-chilling terror of having no clue about what the fuck is going on.

“Everything is alright,” Allant preemptively explains as he takes a knee before her. “You're safe. Do you remember what happened?”

“What is Viserys –”

“Did you see who attacked you?” Allant interrupts.

Her eyes suddenly focus as she looks up into Allant's face, her features horror-stricken. “My baby –”

“Rhaego is fine. The dragons are fine. Who attacked you?”

“They'll never stop trying, will they?” she hysterically asks, hyperventilating. “Not until they kill my son.”

“Daenerys,” Allant tries to make his voice reassuring and pleasant. “I promise you –”

“You promised the wine seller would be the last he would send!” she screams at him. “You lied.”

“The Usurper is dead, sweet sister,” Viserys remarks, managing to claw himself out of his stupefaction. “Illyrio received word that in his last moments of life, The Usurper rescinded the bounties on our head.”

“Then why did a man try to kill me!?”

“That's what I'm trying to figure out,” Allant pleads. “Were they Ghiscari, Westerosi? Male, female?”

“A bearded Westerosi,” Dany answers rapidly, like the words are just falling out of her mouth. “Swarthy and rough-looking, in commoner's clothing. He was holding something and I felt a sting in my neck and then my vision blurred and I yelled for help.” She begins crying.

Allant steps back and motions for the handmaidens to comfort her or something. They move in to dote on their distressed Khaleesi.

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Once outside the Queen's apartments with Viserys, Allant and five dothraki warriors, you take a moment to wrap your hand in an impromptu bandage. Allant leans against the wall, arms folded across his chest as he seems to silently brood.

“There aren't many Westerosi in Meereen,” Viserys muses in consideration of his sister's description.

“Not before today,” Allant counters, a hard glare in his eyes as he stares down the young man.

It takes the Targaryen claimant a moment to infer the accusation. A scowl forms on his lips as his eyes project offense.

“You can't possibly –”

“I can and I will consider any possibility until I have a more comprehensive understanding of the situation.”

“I thought you represented my interests.”

Allant shrugs in a piteous offering of reassurance. “I do. And right now its in your best interests if you allow my men to escort you to a room in the pyramid while I properly investigate.” Allant casts his glance over to where you stand. “That goes for you as well, William.”

>Sure
>You can't possibly think I'm responsible.
>Something else? (write-in)

>>802113
>You can't possibly think I'm responsible.

>>802113
>Sure
>Other
Besides I can't really refuse now can I. Besides I could use a tour, but seriously Allant you know I'm innocent. However...

>whisper to him
Who do we know who could do this even in this altered timeline? A man who was once in the same cells I was in...what if someone got to him? There are other anonymous here in this world and one has tried to kill me.. One working for the Lanisters

>>802113
You can't possibly think I am responsible for doing this unfortunate and horrific act of demonic evil. I am a squirrel warrior.

Congrats on letting Danny survive faggots

>>802113
>Something else? (write-in)
"If any of your dudes steal or break my stuff though, I'll shoot them with my ballista."
"Right in the dick."

>>802113
>You can't possibly think I'm responsible.

>>802136
>>802332

You can't possibly think I'm responsible.

>>802141

Sure, but y'know I'm innocent.

>>802168

Sure, but don't break my stuff faggot.

Aight, fuck it. I'm done for tonight waiting for more consensus.

Moving on to Mills Quest soon.

>>802395
I'll add a vote to
>Sure, but don't break my stuff faggot.

I wish to play The Thriller with our Lute to everyone while waiting for them to do their search.

>>802395
You can't possibly think I'm responsible? I just brought her back from the dead, why would I bother doing so if I had killed her?

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“You can't possibly think I'm responsible,” you contest. “I just brought her back from the dead. Why would I bother doing that if I had killed her?”

Allant holds up a gauntlet-ed palm to stymie your concerns. “I'm not suggesting you killed her.”

“But you aren't dismissing it out of hand?” you prod. “Why would you jail me if you weren't entertaining the idea?”

“Listen, I'm in the fucking dark here. I have no idea what's going on or who is still in play or why someone wanted Daenerys killed,” your youthful peer lays out before you. “But this is ridiculous and I'm not risking the assassin coming back to finish the job. I've got a system and a procedure for this. Allowing for exceptions at the moment because I haven't thought deeply enough to comprehend some overly complex scheme is just off the fucking table. As far as I'm aware, a Westerosi assassin tried to remove one of the last living claimants to the Iron Throne the same day your fleet showed up on my doorstep. I appreciate the save, but please, do not make this difficult.”

You shrug in surrender. “Fine. I can't really refuse now, can I? But you know I'm innocent, Allant. And if any of your people steal or break my stuff, I'll shoot them right in the dick. With my ballista.”

The Targaryen confidant raises both hands and gestures reassuringly. “I promise. You will receive all your belongings, unbroken, once I've finished –”

Viserys slams his foot down, interrupting the man's speech. He points an offended, pale, shaking, white finger accusatorily down at the floor. “You dare!? You give commands to me?! You do not command the Dragon! I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms! I am your KING and I will not be jailed!”

“You aren't being jailed,” the mustachioed man counters. “Simply being given a room in the pyramid, provided by the Great Master Hizdahr zo Loraq. Your Grace, this assassin may come for you next. This is for your safety. I want you somewhere I can keep an eye on you under guards that I trust. You understand this, right?”

Viserys visibly calms down as Allant utters that reasonable explanation, the noble slowly digesting the spiel. “Oh,” he eventually concedes following a moment of reflection. “I understand. Fine. Escort me to these guest chambers.”

. . .

The long walk through the pyramid, escorted by Allant and a few of his Dothraki henchman, is a bit tenser than you'd wish for. Viserys is quickly deposited a few 'floors' down while you are forced to travel much deeper into the pyramid to reach your own holding cell.

The room you are left in is quite nice actually. A bed, a wash basin, a writing desk with quills, ink and parchment. Honeyed locusts and fresh fruit upon a central table. You'll be fine for a while.

Considering the door was locked behind you, you're probably going to be spending the rest of the day here confined in this relatively tiny space.

>>806473
Should probably make sure Dany make an appearance outside asap to calm her rampaging savages down.

>>806774
Pffft! It ain't our city.

>>806473
We have completely cleared suspicion, now is the time to complete our true goal (serving Stannis and assuring Dany doesn't invade).

We must perform shadow magic and kill Dany via assassination.

>>806893
Or kill and eat her dragons. It'll be fun, we can lure them away with meat on a string then drown then our something.

>>806893
Haha, now that we are cleared of suspicion, we should be in good faith with the dragon birther eho might net us an egg, he already told us how to hatch it so we got a long term goal.
Also if they ever do try to invade we just call a meeting in a room lined with wildfire and sail off into the sunset.
Not to mention we could probably line our own pockets with wealth by being in good terms with the rulers of this place.

>>806893
Don't know shit about shadow magic though.

Allant bursts back through the door with a thunderous shoulder charge that scares the shit out of you.

"Holy shit!" you shout as you recoil.

Allant raises his arms in the air and gesticulates madly. "MAKE MEEREEN GREAT AGAIN!" he bellows. "GREAT TRADE DEALS WITH YI TI AND WE'RE GONNA BUILD A WALL ON OUR BORDER WITH LHAZAR! AND DEPORTING ALL THESE ILLEGAL DOTHRAKI AND WHATEVER ANCHOR PRINCES THEY MAY HAVE BIRTHED WITHIN OUR WALLS TO JUSTIFY THEIR PRESENCE!"

>Declare Allant your God Emperor
>Find Daenerys and Grab Her by The Pussy
>Beseech KEK for repeating digits
>Something else? (write-in)

>>808964
>Something else? (write-in)
Give him your delegates.

Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>808964
>Beseech KEK for repeating digits
Praise be unto him

Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>808964
>Beseech KEK for repeating digits
Kek, fuck you, our dicks deserve this. Walls are great but belief is better. Don't listen to the liberals you are an island.

>>808989
Thank you kek, at least you acknowledged me, even if there was no dubs.

>>808989
King Tut is still as cursed as ever

Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>808964
>Beseech KEK for repeating digits
REEEEEEEE

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>>808996
The holiest of dubs

>>808964
>>Beseech KEK for repeating digits

>>808964
....For a non meme answer though - ask him what the fuck he's on about.

>>808964
Slay Allant to obtain his souls

Did the disturbance in the KEK energy from Trump disturb this quest?

>>828857
Pretty much. Trick loves politics