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The Sister Isles, Wetwalls[/Center]

[I]A boy...[/I] The thought rolled across his mind struggling to find a grip. Jonos Sunderland's meagre hall was filled with smugglers, pirates and slavers, a colourful mix of men who would most likely find their way to the dungeons in any other keep, but Wetwalls was not any other keep. Jonos had practically been raised by such men, any lordly feelings of superiority had long since evaporated when he became one of them. Not that he trusted any of the people before him further than he could spit them, that was a lesson he'd learnt a long time ago, but he understood them at least and for now that suited his purposes.

[B]"My lords."[/B] Jonos spoke out to the assembly with a healthy dose or irony, the muttering and swearing that naturally accompanied such a crowd ebbed away as attention was focused onto the grotty little man, words seemed to stick in his throat though. Not a fortnight past he had become a father. A little boy he'd called Tristan and the child had changed his life more than other person. 

[B]"Why have you called us here Sisterman?"[/B] Bellowed Galfar Salahn, considered by many to be the finest pirate of the summer isles, he was covered in elaborate jewelled feathers and was as fat as he was gaudy, next to him Jonos looked drab in his faded longcoat with unshaven attire and [I]he[/I] was meant to be the lord. He quirked his eyebrow at the pirate, letting Galfar's words hang for a moment.

[B]"You all think you know me."[/B] Jonos said at last, strolling into the center of the damp hall. [B]"Jonos Sunderland, feckless, impulsive and scheming."[/B] He had to string this along, many here had a taste for theatrics. [B]"You don't."[/B] It had been no easy task assembling all the regular visitors to the Sisters into one place; half hated each other, many owed debts on these islands and to a man they considered themselves lone-wolves. But there was one thing that would unite them all, the promise of gold. [B]"I'm a new man and I've started to think bigger."[/B] 

[B]"Good fer you."[/B] Said Gribb, a greasy one-eyed smuggler from Crackclaw. [B]"But I don't give a flying fuck."[/B] Perhaps the theatrics [i]were[/I] just for Jonos. [B]"Why we here?!"[/B] Jonos relented and gestured to the large table in the centre of the damp hall, across it lay a map of Westeros.

[B]"Half the smugglers in Westeros pass through my islands."[/B] Jonos tossed a piece of sour-leaf into his mouth and chewed as he spoke. [B]"With them comes news from all over the kingdom, like my own little spynetwork."[/B] He stuck a grubby webbed finger onto where the Iron-Islands were marked. [B]"Word is the Kraken is planning something. Not sure what, not sure when, but its got all the great houses pissing themselves. Lannister, Redwyne, Stark, they're all bracing for an attack from the west."[/B] Lord Sunderland grinned, the sour-leaf turning his teeth blood-red. [B]"So we're going to raid them from the [i]east[/I]"[/B] There was a pause, then the room erupted. 

It was a good fifteen minuted before Jonos managed to wrest attention back from the arguments, insults and the odd threat thrown his way, few people could make a racket like a horde of angry seamen. He knew on some level he had at least piqued their interests though, even if the plan as it stood was foolhardy they'd at least hear him out. 

[B]"Most lords be attending a tourney in Gulltown,"[/B] Jonos spat on the map to indicate the city the Arryns were currently staying at. [B]"so naturally we're avoiding that like the pox, any other port is fair game though. If we can hit enough places quickly enough it will throw them."[/B] 

[B]"What then?"[/B] Gibb barked. [B]"They be hunting for pirates and smugglers, first place they gonna look is [i]here[/I].[/B] The one eyed man stared intently at Jonos as if it would add to his point. 

[B]"Even if they don't."[/B] Cut in Galfar. [B]"The attention this will draw to our kind...We could never operate in Westeros again."[/B] The fat Summer-Islander had a frown written across his face but Jonos could tell from his eyes that the man was intrigued on some level, they all were.

[B]"Trust me,"[/B] Jonos grinned, his reddened teeth taking on a menacing aura. [B]"They won't be looking for us here, or the Whispers, or the Stepstones or any other hideout, we can just melt away. And if my plan succeeds? None of you will ever have to worry about the Kings-Justice ever again."[/B] Jonos had ruled the Sisters since he was but one and four, lord of his own little kingdom of brothels, pubs and any other illicit activity one cared to think of. But that was no longer enough, he wanted to leave his son another kind of legacy...

[B]"When we raid across the narrow sea I want every ship to be hoisting this flag:"[/B] He reached into his long-coat pocket and pulled out a roll of cloth unfurling it across the table, the sigil on it was a black spear with yellow skulls hanging from it. That of the Golden-Company.