Eleven. The Last Dragon

[wakethedragon]

{There's a burst of static, and words muttered in High Valyrian. When the video transmission begins, the communicator is held close, the camera revealing a gleaming black breastplate. The center of the breastplate is crushed. What was once a three-headed dragon sigil worked entirely in rubies is now twisted and buckled in the center of the chest,

Comments

[uberwaldian]

Wow! Look at that armor. What happened to you, mister? [Although really, young Mr. Nobby Nobbs seems far more interested in the loose ruby Rhaegar is holding...]

[wakethedragon]

[Hands off my few remaining rubies, Mr. Nobby Nobbs.]

I believe I took a large blow to the chest.

[Baratheon's warhammer would have done the trick. He frowns and spins the ruby between his fingers.]

There's really no other explanation.

[uberwaldian]

So you're like one of those zombees now?

[Little Cecil Wormsborough St. John considers this from all angles, and comes up disappointed. Still, it's worth a shot...] I hears as they say you can't take it with you?

[wakethedragon]

If I am dead, then anything of value that remains in my possession will be left to my brother.

[uberwaldian]

And who's your brother? [Nobby looks around and sniffs.] I don't see him here! Unlike a certain very supportive little boy. There, there.