Oberyn Martell Novels & Stories

Those who are called will be exploited both intellect and strength. King Februtus is the king of the Borlal kingdom, he is known as a very cruel king. Of the 4 sons, Maretus was the golden child. Maretus who is the 3rd child and he was the one who got the title of hero before his older brother. The king, with a large and burly body, sat on a throne adorned with dozens of swords of all kinds and sizes.

The prince of the rouges growled. Drake was panting, gasping for air. He closes his eyes, feeling the presence of the beating heart. As he opened his eyes, it was blood red. He wore the devil's eye. It was cold, dark, mysterious, and dangerous. The prince of the rouges steps backward, trembling. He didn't try to struggle off the chain; he just wore his dangerous lopsided grin.

-One day before the fall of Oribus Naevres POV I have been watching him screaming and writhing in pain for days now. I don’t know why, but the armour Sentaya made in the dungeon when Norgarth had been brought here several weeks ago is getting weaker with every second. Could it be because of the rumours about the attack on Oribus? The dungeon 34 will soon become visible to everyone if something doesn’t change. The good thing is that I am finally back on my feet and can tend to Marcellus and Norgarth. Norgarth is still in the comma but seems stable. I guess it is just a battle with time now. He should be awake very soon. Marcellus, on the other hand, is strange.

Embyr is Sir Kay, Arthur's adopted brother, the very first knight or the Round Table. One of the first to fall during the battle for Avalon. Her smile grows freakishly large, overstretching the boundaries of her face like a horror movie monster. The curse possessing her already transformed her into something obscene. "Good," she licks her lips. "The Queen will be pleased to know we have been re-acquainted. Now," she holds out a hand to me. "Hand over your Lady, and I will go easy on the rest of you. The queen only wants her, preferably alive."

The King of Nordmar said. The Paladins looked at Rhobart. “And who are you?” Droyn asked. He had never heard Rhobart being so serious before. “Rhobart Braveheart, last of my name!” the King of Nordmar said. His voice echoed between the forgotten tombs. “The shield and the sword of Ayla!” Eude looked around. “Are there mushrooms around here we haven’t seen?” “Why? You want to make more sweet-wine?” Rhobart asked.

On her head, there is a big moonstone between her eyes. ''I want to ride that one,'' I say. Roan walks towards the mare, ''Good choice this is Eowyn, she is the daughter of our best mare. She is fast and stubborn, but she will go through fire for you if she decides that she likes you.'' I stroke her beautiful head and say to her, ''I think we will get along just fine beauty.'' Eowyn seems to like being called beautiful because she snorts happily. Roan walks towards a big green male sea horse with purple manes and green emeralds across his tail, ''This is my sea horse Oberyn.''

"Brienne is my name, and I used a two-bladed sword as my weapon. I know how to use a katana as well, but I prefer a two-bladed sword. " Prince Arthur realized that Brienne was the most beautiful of all of them. Then, seconds before the last Amazonian spoke. "I am Catelyn, kenkonken is what I used in fighting. I can also do hand-to-hand combat as well, Prince Arthur!" And last but surely not the least. "Elora at your service Prince Arthur, I used two lance swords to fight. I am also a magician who can heal wounds. " Prince Arthur widely opened his mouth in shock. "W-what... you are half-magician and a half warrior too?"

"They have parallel interests. Whether they're coordinating is something I haven't been able to confirm." Nora made a note not the content, just a mark that meant this matters more than it's being presented as mattering. She looked up. "Maren." "Neutral. Historically allied with Vael but the current heir Isolde Maren is building her own political identity independent of that alliance. She's careful. principled "Meaning she's someone worth being genuine with." He looked at her. "Yes." "Ashcroft."

Three blades crossed over a broken crown. The heirs. Three of them rode at the front. The first was a woman, tall and lean, with hair the color of fresh blood. Her eyes were violet, like Malric’s had been. Magic rolled off her in waves. Sera Dravok. The mage-heir. The second was a man, broad-shouldered, scarred from jaw to collarbone, holding a war-axe that looked too heavy for any normal man. His grin was feral. Kael’s cousin. Orin Dravok. The war-heir.

His claws extended, and his fangs dripped with venom. Aurora stepped forward, but Draven placed a hand on her arm, stopping her gently. “He’s mine,” he said, voice low and sure. She nodded once, stepping aside. Kael launched himself at Draven with the force of a battering ram. The two collided with a thunderous crash that shook the earth beneath them. Steel met claw. Magic clashed with ancient might. Kael’s blows landed like falling boulders—but Draven’s speed was inhuman, a blur of black and silver that danced between Kael’s brute force.