There is a time for such pleasures, for wenching and such, and there is also a time for war. This is definitely the latter, of course. I shall miss Re...dal and Raina, but they are happy, I hope,” Ser Jorah thought of how each of the main parties to the recent orgies had focused their efforts more on the war of late.The potions had stopped coming, as the Red Priestesses were gone elsewhere now, with Melisandre in the Riverlands and Kinvara in Dorne to birth their shadow demons. Ser Jorah was. It, a majestic ship, constructed from the finest wood in the forest. Designed for transporting goods, or doing naval battle. Built with three masts, each towering a hundred feet, and it with a fuselage of over forty cannons. A slow behemoth, of strong oak. Lumber that had been dragged to the water’s edge and built with sweat and hands. Sealed tight by rope and pitch. It was audacious, and showed little respect for an enemy-ship, to sight its sails.Now under sail of the winds, from Tortuga to. More

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