Qoren Allyrion

Oberyn Allyrion

**Qoren Allyrion** is the current Lord of Godsgrace and patriarch of House Allyrion. He is the thirdborn child of his late Lady mother, Nymeria Allyrion, and father, Thoros Drahar. His two older siblings, Coryanne and Olyvar, both rest in the next, and as such, the Lordship and task of it all has been left to Qoren, despite a much unorthodox youth.

## Appearance and Character

*To dance on the knife's edge, is the only way worth living.*

Qoren Allyrion is a man of wild senses. Black of hair, his own grows down to take curve at the ends, just above where his neck meets his torso, while his visage is so too home to hair evermore, a healthy moustache and goatee, with stubble dotting along the rest of his jawline. Further so, the fierce Lord of Godsgrace has eyes of deep chocolate brown, and skin so too of a Dornish tan, the sort most oft seen by those coastal Houses named Martell, Dalt, and Gargalen, as result of his Essosi heritage, his Myrish heritage, to be precise.

As for attire, Qoren takes a rather liberal approach to such. Half the time, dressed without a shirt, or with a loose fitting one, allowing his chest and the hair upon it to fly free beneath the burning sun, while riding pants and sturdy boots are present. The other half of the time, the fiery Lord of Godsgrace will find himself donning military attire, armour, of some ilk, as battle must be given, there is no denying that, as far as Qoren Allyrion is concerned.

Further still, much unakin to his Dornish countrymen, the skin of Qoren Allyrion has so too been marked in the Essosi style. Upon his back is so inked the golden hand of House Allyrion, though in ink of black, with his House words, *"No Foe May Pass"* so too standing stalwart. The now Lord of Godsgrace has also been known to sport other tattoos, that few are truly sure of just how many he has.

The character of Qoren Allyrion can be sought out, but never captured, for as Qoren is, he cannot sit still well. Ever has he been moving, since he was a boy. Dreaming of far away lands, of what lay across the Narrow Sea, of what the Dothraki hordes did in their own great grass sea, of what it would be to make battle with the strange murky green creatures of the Thousand Islands, of what lies beyond the Cinnamon Straits, what foreign cultures, and nubile maidens, and of what unexplored and unknown foes and experiences alike lay to the east of the Saffron Straits, of Ulthos, for Asshai is not what concerns this Dornishman, but all else, all else beyond, far from view, where adventure lies, is where Qoren Allyrion finds himself.

As a boy, Qoren's Lady mother once remarked that it was *"such perfection of chance that Qoren had not been born the heir, nor the second, for that one would have found himself suffocated immediately"*. And so true it was, so true it *is*, where Qoren's sister, Coryanne, the lady, so naturally found herself in governance, in diplomacy, in rulership, and the ability to bring about prosperity and peace, Qoren was ever the trouble, the loud, the boisterous, the wild. Where Olyvar had been the knight, the honourable, the just, the true, the conformist, Qoren had struck out, struck *east*, and held no qualms about moral decisions nor about how he spent his time consorting with men of ill-repute and stirring up trouble that could only be solved with the blade, or some other such showy contest.

And so, when word reached Qoren Allyrion in 95 AC that his Lady mother had finally broke when a swift and furious fever stole her resolve, he was struck with the realisation of what he would now become. For with both sister Coryanne, and brother Olyvar, taken too soon from this worldly plane, the freedom, the fire, the fury, of Qoren Allyrion was now to be curtailed by the bonds of Lordship, or at least, so told him the companion his Lady mother had forced him take across the Narrows with him. Soon enough, this companion was pushed out, his words forgotten, or at the least - taken to be of little consequence and ignored.

And so, while Qoren Allyrion has served as Lord of Dorne for the last few years, his fire is not one that has been tamed.

Godsgrace has barely known its Lord's presence, with the last two or so years having only seen its Lord for mayhaps say two or three moons time, though scattered about, if that. Rather, Qoren's fire has found him ever busy, ever chaotic, ever bold, and ever wild and willful, and evermore so now that his dear, sweet, charming, *attractive, appetising,* cousin has risen to the throne of Dorne.

## History

### 74 - 85 AC I Scream, I Squeal, I am Born

Third in line, freedom first in line. Qoren's youth was much similar to that of many others of noble birth, for while he would prove to be strikingly different from his siblings, and even so too in many ways, his countrymen, he was once, but a boy. His earliest years were spent at play with his siblings and cousins a plenty, though, Qoren's firey and wild personality did shine through, even then. Notably so, on his older brother, Olyvar's, thirteenth nameday, when a cousin from across the Narrows was visiting and made a jape at Olyvar's expense, leaving the sensitive youth rather unsure of how to respond, Qoren was across the table in a heartbeat, with his fists pounding into his cousin, despite the boy having some three years on him. Yet, to say Qoren survived the endeavour unscared would be an absolute falsity, for to this day, rests a small faded scar just above his left brow, from where his Myrish cousin struck him back.