Sherlock’s Day Out In King’s Touchdown
King’s Landing, the nice cesspool into which all the idlers and loungers of the empire are irresistibly drained.
Sherlock regained his consciousness, solely to find himself lying in the midst of a street. The small tattered houses around him had been all engulfed by fierce flames, the people of Kings Landing working away haphazardly, grabbing onto their belongings. Noise and chaos had been spread in all places and shrieks encompassed the troubled square. Constant volley of burning island stone maui stones have been being hurled onto the town by the Targaryen fleet.
Sherlock started trying throughout, attempting to make some sense of the upheaval. Alas! He needed to resort to the only thing which could get him out. His wits.
Fire.. chaos.. misery. Wherever I’m, this place is being attacked. The clothes of the commoners.. shrouding veils and flying drapes.. The middle ages I have to get out.
*Will get up and starts operating*
The attackers are pelting the city with fireplace.. the odor.. the moisture in the air says sea breeze. The attackers have to be using ships then. Range of the fireballs suggests using Trebuchets.. distance says they are really close to the shore.. If they’re shut.. the preliminary pawns must have already started attacking the forces by the city walls.. they should have been attempting to penetrate the Stone Island Accessories gates.. Since I don’t know the way long it has been that I was unconscious, I don’t know if the gates have been razed or not.. Both manner I should run the opposite manner.. The game is On!
*After operating for a couple of minutes, encounters the Targaryen forces who are busy laying waste to the city*
Crimson shrouds.. dragons.. different sigils.. enemies. They’re killing the commoners.. no mercy. I’ve to hide deep in that alley.. charging bull always tries to see the broader picture.. the band will march on until the square and ahead onto the palace.. If I stay right here, I’ll become a part of the massacre.
*Hides in the dark alley. A lot of the soldiers pass on, but a tall one senses a shadow and decides to follow by*
Tall soldier.. six feet seven.. north of 200 and eighty pounds.. probabilities of profitable in a fistfight- minimal. Archaic design of the helmet.. limited imaginative and prescient.. harder to move the neck round.. missing proper eye.. holding his sword within the left hand.. attacking from 10 o’ clock will increase the possibilities of successful. Impaired stroll.. experienced soldier.. suffered quite a blow on the suitable knee.. wound has healed but has disturbed his walk.. says greater than a 12 months outdated. Scars by his arms.. crisscross of the wrinkles on his face.. says an experienced swordsman.. chances of winning diminishing additional. A technique avenue.. the one approach out is to remove him from the picture.. getting near him and being in his proximity will solely end in his sword passing by me. I’ve to take care of distance.. at the same time.. knock him down with some sort of a ballistic weapon. I can’t discover one here.. he’s approaching closer.. assume Sherlock assume.. the stones.. the sand.. good ol’ method.