↳ details; male, thirty-six
↳ status; bisexual, unmarried, no children
↳ faceclaim; charlie hunnam
↳ hails from; kings landing
↳ loyalty; himself, mainly, the crown by default
↳ position & title; master blacksmith of the crownlands, naturalized bastard of house clegane
↳ unofficial title; firehound (fighting pits)
↳ religion; the faith of the seven
↳ spoken languages; common tongue
↳ reason in kings landing; employment, residence
↳ reason for being in sunspear; money, business, curiosity
↳ type; the defender (ISFJ)
↳ alignment; chaotic neutral
↳ star sign; taurus
↳ positives; resilient, mischievous, flirtatious, brawny, protective, loyal
↳ negatives; aggressive, promiscuous, jaded, judgemental, crass, conniving
the now recognized bastard son of the late lord sandor iii clegane and an unknown prostitute of kings landing, morrec grew up abandoned in the poorest regions of the capital. dropped off at the steps of an orphanage as a newborn, morrec was housed until he was five, he was then turned out onto the streets to fend for himself and lived amongst the pickpockets and urchins and waifs who also had no family to speak of. at that point and until his mid twenties, he was known as morrec waters - just another bastard from kings landing. he made friends with the other children who were fatherless, motherless, bastards or lowborn; the nooks and crannies of kings landing home to a mixed and varied community with had uniting sense of camaraderie. of course he got into more fights than he could count, both with his peers and sometimes ill-picked fights with stubborn and cocky noble-born children, but that was simply par for the course for those who called flea bottom home. though most boys were given the boot from orphanages or septs once they got too old or started eating too much (for morrec it was the latter), he still found a way to survive. morrec was taken in, somewhat, by a lesser lord of the crownlands who needed help in his keep. it was a mere two hours walk from flea bottom, and the lord would let morrec sleep in the stables sometimes if the weather was foul or he had worked his young self to the point he could not make the journey home. in the meantime, he made friends with an older boy, petyr stone (a bastard of a vale lord and a long-gone possibly dornish woman), and with him they found a trade in fighting, stealing and slight-of-hand tricks to keep them fed, but also and also what kept him known to many guards and soldiers. the fair-haired, blue-eyed angry boy and the black-haired dornish young teen.
his hatred for the nobles and the wealthy (and eventually the crown) began when he was under the employ of the crownlands lord. the children above morrec in status, in both the lords keep and kings landing, enjoyed mercilessly ridiculing, tricking, goading him into anger like an animal, and sometimes beating him for their own amusement. he was also often used as their scape-goat when they did things unbecoming of their status. this came to a peak in his twelfth year, after four years of on and off employment, when morrec found himself thrown out of the only semi-home and stable income he’d ever known. it was found that a wealthy family’s daughter, who’s home was on the walk the young morrec always took to and from work, was ‘inexplicably’ pregnant and she had blamed it on morrec, claiming he forced himself on her. morrec had never spoken to the girl in question, and she was three years older than him, but that didn’t matter - he was a bastard and she was not and he was beaten and thrown back to flea bottom. without any other means of ongoing finance save for occasional jobs as hired help or young thugs, petyr and morrec disappeared beneath the surface of kings landing; the illegal fighting pits that were deep in the old catacombs and dungeons; a labyrinth like remnant of the mad queens destruction of the sept of baelor. petyr entered, and after two years running bets and building muscle, morrec did too and it was there that he found his next path in life.
a man had been wagering coin in the pits, his name was sour bronn and he was the middle-aged only son of the master blacksmith. he was looking for an apprentice to haul heavy loads, one who desperately needed the funds and morrec was one of those boys. throughout the next five and a half years he split his time between the pits and the forge; sour bronn was a very stern master but morrec was tenacious and stubborn and something about that seemed to appeal. it was the same for petyr, who had become the hired thug at a tavern, they both took alias’ in the pits; he was the ‘fire hound’ (dubbed so because he was likened to a feral dog when he fought, and the fire due to his burns from the flames) and petyr became the ‘black mountain’ as the stone of his homeland, the vale, his hair and eyes were all the same shade of black. they were brothers in blood, fought as teams together in the pits as they had in their youth, and up until morrec was in his nineteenth year they were on par. then an unfortunate accident in the pits left petyr missing an eye, and morrecs vengeance for what had happened to his blood brother saw a viciousness harnessed that eventually propelled him to the top of the ranks in death-count. anyone who was involved in illegal wagering knew of him, or rather of him as the fire hound.
during his underground life, above ground in the forge, sour bronns father had died of old age and his son had capably taken over as master blacksmith and kept the yellow-haired morrec as his lead apprentice and protege. why sour bronn never had a wife or children he never knew, but he also never asked. over the years morrec would come to the forge bandaged up and bruised and bloody and sour bronn would help patch him up in silence and then set to work; he was never cruel but morrec did not know the tender paternal or maternal touch, so it was the kindest mentor he ever knew none the less. there was praise for hard work, a fair wage, trust as he proved himself and he more than did so. over the next half a decade he mastered his trade and travelled around the crownlands as sour bronns second in command and made a legitimate name for himself as the bastard blacksmith of kings landing. arriving back to the capital from a journey up the rosby road to a crownlands lord, morrec arrived to the forge where the men of the current lord sandor of house clegane stood in a meeting with sour bronn. the next week and a half proved to be one of the most tumultuous of his entire life. the master blacksmith sour bronn, who was grey-haired and in his late fifties but in excellent health, suddenly fell ill. morrec found his mentor wheezing on the floor of the forge and he managed to lift him atop a bare wooden bench, bundle his shirt under his head as a pillow and he summoned a maester. though he was not a noble, the position of a master blacksmith came with a large purse and he was readily able to pay for the best care available. sour bronn was tended to, they could find no physical reason for why he had collapsed save for the blacksmith’s illness - some smiths found themselves inhaling so much debris that their lungs seemed to give out. morrec wrote apologies to the lord clegane, who’s work sour bronn had been finishing when he collapsed; and tended to his mentor as the maester instructed. after a day of panic and two days of sleep, sour bronn’s eyes opened again but morrec soon realized that something was horribly wrong.
the maesters told morrec that sour bronn’s body had failed; he could barely lift his legs and arms save for a few fingers, he could not move himself or care for himself and, worst of all it seemed that sour bronn could no longer breathe properly. the best advice they could give was that morrec swiftly end his mentors life before he could suffer and starve. he paid the maester, and bought a vial of sweetsleep; it was the gift of a painless death in the form of a sweet liquid. four days had now gone since morrec found his mentor on the ground unable to breathe properly, and as the sun began to set on the fourth day morrec (with assistance from petyr, who was now working at the broken axe) saddled sour bronn in front of him and he road to the highest hill that overlooked the sea and the ships (which he’d had always had a fondness for) and morrec set his mentor against a tree in his finest clothes with the soot cleaned from his body and hair, and he poured the sweetsleep into a small cup of fortified wine and helped sour bronn lift it to his lips and drink, he swallowed eagerly despite his near-lifeless musclebound limbs and managed a small nod to his apprentice of the last decade, a wheeze because he had not regained the ability to speak when he awoke, and they settled back to watch the sun set over the battleships. before it was dark, the master blacksmith had succumbed to the poisons gift of a painless sleep. five days had gone by now, and he spent the next two orchestrating the final farewell of sour bronn which many faces attended. morrec waters, though a bastard and not kin, inherited the forge as sour bronns second and most capable: he took over the work, throwing himself into the craft to deal with his grief.
it was eleven days after morrec discovered his mentor on the floor of the forge that lord clegane and his men arrived to collect the finished pieces of work. morrec was shocked when he looked into the face of the clegane lord, because it was so similar to his own, none the less morrec laughed off the query into his heritage. he was no lords son, he’d never gotten along with them and knew he wouldn’t be getting along with them any time soon. however, the cocky & obnoxious clegane lord demanded morrec show them his forearms - where he claimed his bastard child (he did not know the sex of the babe, he left before that was revealed lord sandor said candidly and morrec hated him simply for that alone) had been born with a patch of skin that was devoid of colour, whiter than was natural. a type of skin scar that, despite his numerous scars and burns, morrec could not deny he had always had. and within a moons turn of his mentors death and his taking over of the position as master blacksmith, papers arrived to morrec waters informing him that he had been ‘naturalized’ into the house clegane and he was now a lord. his life was changed for so many reasons, but he ignored all correspondence from his birth father and continued on as he had. morrec stayed close friends with petyr, who he initially helped finance his purchase of the tavern the broken axe (a debt now long repaid), and they still fought in the pits often for many years - morrec aka. the fire hound maintaining the highest death count consistently for years, and to this day. morrec was always willing to hire the bastards and the urchins and the forgotten youths of kings landing, and he and petyr would often straighten out the pointless fights and give the young ones a chance to feel successful without falling into a nasty trap of sex and violence as so many of the poor did.
the blacksmith had always been unashamedly a lothario: a frequenter, friend and also business partner of the brothels, particularly charlyse and the roses den and her second in command, the snake dancing yunkish-born niyah of shadows. he has, however, endeavoured to never father a child throughout his whoring and womanizing, as he does not believe he would make an adequate father given his own upbringing. taking in two apprentices under his own tutelage, morrec’s life went on fairly unchanged despite the new title; he fought, drank, worked the forged, made a decent wage with his talents, he and petyr stayed close friends with their businesses within walking distance. morrec was the unofficial security guard of the broken axe as he was there with such frequency - though between the imposing figure of the two veteran pit fighters, very few ever tried to cause a ruckus with them more than once. having been in the crownlands his whole life, save for a few times he had been sent on errands for sour bronn and later for the forge as he ran it, he was quite shocked when news came that the targaryen prince had suddenly passed overnight. true, prince baelor hadn’t been out and about in public as much as he had been in his youth, but the targaryen prince was younger than the clegane bastard was when he died. the problems of nobles have never registered high on his list of things he cares about; as long as traffic flowed through the forge it was of little consequence. that was his view as the royal wedding came and went, and the coronation and finally the announcement of the queens pregnancy and the subsequent birth of the little lannister prince. all these events brought foot traffic and nobility into the crownlands, and into his forge. however, it was during this large gathering to celebrate the heir of the iron throne that things began to change in westeros.
the first thing of note was the whispers of dothraki ships making land in westeros, south of kings landing and causing a big ruckus. this, of course, lead to an influx of various stations of people ordering their blades sharpened and arrow tips forged - his fires burned so hot that morrec swore the walls did not cool for a full week afterwards. during this, he found himself caught in the flood of bodies heading both to and from a fight-turned-riot in the main market square and so took refuge in the broken axe alongside petyr, and they semi-barred the door - the two pit fighters rather unperturbed by the amateur fighting outside. this was when the fleabottom-born petty criminal travys (the rat), who also happened to be inside the axe when the riot bubbled over, snatched a fair haired kitchen girl from off the streets and pulled her inside the tavern greedily. though morrec only knew her as of late as a kitchen girl in the red keep, neither petyr nor the bastard were very fond of travys and his behavior, especially his fondness for grab-assing the young women of the capital. morrec came to the girls aid, tossing travys out into the streets, and befriend young westerlands bastard adelayne hill. though amusingly soft in comparison to the street-harden brawlers, she became a tentative regular face around their circle, accompanying morrec to the harvest moon ball hosted by house tyrell (morrec, a lord by title in the crownlands had been extended an invitation despite his rejection of most ‘lordly’ customs.) his prowess and efficiency in his craft had already put him amongst the upper-crust, but that didn’t mean he often held friendships beyond business with those with a title.
commissioned to make discrete weaponry of protection for the rooms of the roses den brothel, he had often spent leisure time in the company of charlyse and niyah - and by proximity made an odd friendship with niyah’s long term client and (now former) region council member, eleanor tully. morrec had never overtly pointed out that he knew the redheaded woman was a client of the brothel, he had known for a while before the splitting of the kingdoms happened and the tully woman ended up ultimately pledging allegiance to the service of the iron throne. the following months after the first riot removed morrec from the majority of the immediate chaos: adelayne was caught in the smoke of the arson on the bakery, and morrec stayed long enough to ensure the young woman was going to make a full recovery and shortly thereafter he bade a short farewell to his friends and his apprentices as he boarded a ship that would take him across to the shores of essos for his semi-annual trip to gather the hard to come by resources such as valyrian steel, dragon-glass specimens and certain gemstones like the blood diamond. his time spent abroad was well spent; a working holiday almost - he had friends in most places, or at the very least he had business friends in most places and he knew where to go to get exactly what he needed (having set letters ahead of time). by the time morrec arrived back on the soil of his homeland, he found the capital in a state of roiling tensions. kingdoms split, kidnapped nobles, a dead dornish prince in the sept, a dead tyrell lady who had been kidnapped and injured... honestly, morrec found the whole thing rather unbelievable but he was barely around long enough to get worked up about it. the smith unloaded his stocks, found a tourney posting circulating, eagerly entered himself in and managed to place in near all of the events he fought in, going to far as to disarm the lannister king in the final round of the sword fight. planning to continue on as usual thinking that surely everyone would be getting back to normal eventually, he caught up with petyr, niyah, his apprentices, charlyse and even ade as she had made a full recovery and set to work again in the forge. the waves of intrigue kept hitting the capital, however as the lord of winterfell’s brother was revealed as the leader of his own pathetic ‘revolt’, and one trial later his head was rolling from his shoulders. the very next day, emeric tyrell (who morrec oft called the lord of prickles) - the new king and widower of the reach - walked into the smith’s forge with a request for a special and specific sword as well as a crucial bit of information that sent morrec back over to essos.
king tyrell informed the blacksmith that he, along with all the other nobles and new royals, would be attending a political summit in dorne and that was where he would meet morrec to collect his sword. half payment taken, the other signed in for collection upon delivery of goods; the king of prickles was the first in a handful of elite pieces of swords and armour that came into the master smith. at the same time most nobles-now-kings were taking themselves back to their castles and keeps morrec was upon yet another ship meant for essos with a long list of new supplies he needed. whilst spending time in essos, he bartered with the chroyane house arainai who were well known for their high quality gemstones and precious metals. this also lead him to cross paths with a woman of the same house who had also been in the crownlands, the daughter of house arainai, velia, who - when they bade farewell - alluded to the fact that she would see him again in dorne. he has always claimed his main drive is to his craft and his loyalties have also always to people in the same region he was so rooted in and so they have yet to be challenged. he journeys to dorne from essos now with the intention of yes, making money and doing business promised, but out of genuine curiosity to see what a mess that has become the five kingdoms of westeros.
morrec has definitely been irreparably scarred by his past and by the way he grew up despite the fact that he has made a name for himself, both in the illegal rings and the hierarchy of westeros as the master blacksmith and disarmed the king of the iron throne in the tourney, he still does not believe that he has fully shaken off the judgement that lord and ladies almost always cast on him. he is his own worst enemy in that regard, and his dogged attempts to ‘prove’ himself have left him roped with scars both physically and emotionally. the people he considers close to him are few, and those people he would die for, but aside from his own moral code of protecting the innocent unlike he had been in his childhood, he does not connect to people emotionally very well.
his pours his energy and his emotions into his work, or into fighting and violence. he is not known for an unchecked temper, but he can flip from nice to furious if someone breaks his moral code or threatens him. morrec is considered a veteran-class fighter of the pits, a title he holds onto to this day though he has had to knock some others back down or into their place in the past years as he begins his approach to becoming forty. he is unflinching in his lothario & snake-oil charm, though he does always have the proof to back up his cockiness.
↳ splitting of the kingdoms.
in general, morrec has always been rather unconcerned by who holds the crown for two reasons: one) the crown, whether dragon, lion or duck - the master blacksmith of the crownlands would always benefit from the crown itself, and two) despite all these years, and the people he has met, he still dislikes lords and ladies and the monarchy and the general upper class and couldn’t really care less what they do. in principle, morrec is somewhat pro-war… or at least the increase the thought of war brings to his business.
