Video; 1-800-MURDERS

[ragnarsson]

[The video starts off with some cheesy infomercial music, the kind usually found on a device that will cut your hair better or replace all your kitchen devices with one. The narrator, one Jamie Dodger, accompanies a series of drawings.]

Has this ever happened to you?

[A piece of paper is held in front of the camera, showing a crude drawing of someone being violently stabbed to death. Or maybe it's a plate of spaghetti; regardless of which of them drew it, the truth is that their art skills are crap.]

Well, with the help of this eight-step training process, it won't have to. [Dodger's voice lacks every ounce of enthusiasm these infomercials are known for, which is probably why his own video back in the day had been text-only.] Just follow your instructor's guidance and one day you could look like this.

[And again, this drawing is either... someone standing over a pile of corpses, or maybe just a sack of potatoes and some of them have faces? Who knows.]

Time to meet your instructor - Phil Swift himself.

[The video pans over to Ivar, who has the usual somewhat grumpy expression on his face. It’s clear he doesn’t really get this whole idea, but he’s been talked into it. He’ll humor everyone...for now.]

Say something.

Like what?

Sell the product. [Dodger turns the music off with a frustrated huff.] We're not shooting another take.

Fine. [Ivar gives the camera only the most dramatic of all eyerolls.] You all are idiots. I don't care if you have powers, powers don't stop a knife stabbed in your throat. I will teach you to stab people before they stab you. [He looks off to the side of the camera.] Was that good?

...Sure.

[There's an awkward pause here as the boys stare each other down with silent and mutual distaste, before Dodger switches the music back on and resumes his narration.]]

With our teachings you'll be able to stab unaware enemies - [Ivar slices his axe across a dummy's back that they had set up] - slice moving targets - [Dodger throws a pillow from off-screen, and Ivar catches it with his axe and slams it down into the floor] - and even counter fireballs, all from the comfort of your broken leg throne.

[There's another long moment of silence, as Ivar slowly looks up with a cold fire in his eyes.]

And now, ladies and gentleman, for the finale, you get to see a live demonstration. [He yanks his axe back out and there’s a psychotic grin on his face.] Start running, Dodger.

[The video concludes with the device that music is coming from knocking over and warping the sound of the tune with an eerie lilt, and cuts out with a flash of sparks and a loud pop as Dodger dodges an incoming throwing axe.]

[OOC: Know that there will be a lot of threadjacking going on in this post. Dodger and he are horrible human beings.]

Comments

[northerndragon]

How many brothers?

Did I ever mention Daenerys? Six months ago, I was with her, though not as we are now.

[ragnarsson]

Four. I am the youngest.

[He says this in a rather tense manner. So often, people pointed to that as a sign that he should have been left in the woods to die as a child. A youngest child who couldn't walk? Clearly, he was a poor, weak runt, destined to die rather than cling to life for years on end.]

No, her name never came up. Believe me, I would have remembered you mentioning a woman such as she.

[northerndragon]

[Jon's youngest brother is dead -- died at his feet, as bait in a trap. And he thinks this young man is telling him about things that happened around that time: Jon himself was recognizable and had been with his sister Sansa recently, but hadn't yet met Daenerys.

But why can't he remember it? Had it passed like a dream?

His dreams are nothing like this.]

I may not have known her then.

Forgive me, but your friend spoke of a broken leg. Is it healing?

[Daenerys had spoken with this man at the river... Jon had seen it from where he stood a short distance away. And it had seemed that there was more to his state than a broken leg.]

[ragnarsson]

He's not my friend. More like an occasional enemy. We're in a truce right now.

[The kind of truce where he still occasionally tried to split Dodger's head open with an axe.]

What he said was merely to taunt me. My legs aren't broken. I am a cripple.

[Which made it clear that whatever skills he possessed on the battlefield had come through very hard work.]

[northerndragon]

It's been many a year since I've seen him, but one of my brothers took a fall when he was a small boy. They thought he would die, but he lived. [That Bran lived clearly pleases Jon.] He hasn't taken a step since, though.

How can an enemy only be "occasional"?

[ragnarsson]

That's the thing with cripples. Everyone expected me to die as a child. I decided that I wasn't going to do it purely out of spite. I was going to live and become a warrior instead.

[It had worked out to an extent. Ivar shrugs at the question.]

I hate him dearly, but sometimes, we get along well enough not to try to kill each other. But it doesn't always work out as you can see.

[northerndragon]

[What had Jon done out of pure spite? Well, if you had asked him at the time and asked him now, his answers might have been different. But he understands the basic motivation: prove them wrong, prove that what people who don't know you might say about you isn't true.

He mostly nods at the first part and doesn't speak up until the second.]

So your occasional enemy convinced you to try to sell your services this way. How did he do that? "Might as well"?

[ragnarsson]

Actually, the idea to offer my services was my idea. He came up with the attention-grabbing thing that you saw.

[People might wondered why Ivar bothered with Dodger at all if he hated him so much. Well, he couldn't rightly say. Sometimes, he ended up being attracted that which was the worst thing for him. Plus, having an enemy around did have occasional benefits, small as they were.]

[northerndragon]

Is there anyone you like? Better to take advice from them.

Though I suppose the two of you might have done worse in getting money for your child.

[He says this in a rather good-humored way for someone who'd opened the conversation by scolding Ivar for charging for those services.]

[ragnarsson]

There's plenty of people I like.

[More like tolerate, but that's as close as liking people as Ivar tends to come sometimes.]

But sometimes it's better to work with people you don't like. They tend not to bullshit you.

[northerndragon]

Some of them do. I knew a man who -- well, no matter.

[A man whose life Jon had nearly choked out of him at the end of their last conversation. But that was Baelish. Remembering Ser Alliser... horseshit hadn't been the problem there, only mutual disdain and animosity.]

Better to have a small number of people you can trust, even if the number is very small.

[ragnarsson]

Sounds like you have one of those too.

[Ivar trusted Bucky as much as he trusted anyone here and how many times had he been repeatedly told by the man not to trust him?]

I have a few of those I can count on. Some would say I trust the wrong sort of people.