Fandom A Song of Ice and Fire RP (Game of Thrones)

[JustWhipIt]

Storm's End, The Stormlands


POV: Braedon Baratheon
​

As the castle doors swung open, Braedon exhaled one final time in an attempt to rid himself of any frustration. Forgetting what had just happened would be nigh impossible, though he'd have to set it aside for now. Whatever Rory had in mind would have to wait—he'd deal with him later. Come to think of it, where had Wendel wandered off to? Braedon hadn't seen his brother since the meeting earlier in the day. The thought of leaving either of his brothers by themselves didn't sit well with him, though his hands were more or less tied at the moment.


Walking up to his guests, Braedon nodded at their greetings. "Ser Ryon. Lady Keila," he began. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" Smiling, the Baratheon's eyes went elsewhere, focused on the hall's murals. "You've always liked them," he said before sighing and looking back at the Estermont. "But we both know why you're here." His tone was considerably less lighthearted than before, as one would expect. "I understand I'm asking a lot of you, but we can't let them get away with what they've done.


@TheFordee14

 

[Grammatic]

Artillus Reed


Moat Cailin

​

As Artillus finishes speaking with his guests, the doors to the great hall are thrown open, and a servant quickly rushes forward. Leaning forward, he whispers into Artillus's ear, before bowing to the nobles and departing. Clapping his hands together, Artillus turned to his two noble guests. "My lord and lady, it would appear our Lord Stark has finally arrived, shall we go and greet him?"


@Hypnos

Markus Waters


Near Casterly Rock

​

The water was pitch black. The basin it was in, once white like the wagon it is in, has been stained pitch black from numerous uses. Setting aside a small vial, Markus ran a hand through his hair, still damp from the coloring. Looking into the mirror above the basin, Markus let his eyes wander across his hair, once more dyed black to keep his blood ties hidden. Sighing, he rested his hands on either side of the small table, leaning forward. Hearing a slight chuckle, he looks over to the side of the wagon, where a tall woman watched with slight humor.


"And what do you find so funny, Lilian walked forward, the mace always at her hip scrapping along the wall until she adjusted it. "I find it funny, or mighty dragon, that still worry about your hair. In my opinion, you should just shave it all off, it will save you the time." Letting her eyes travel down briefly, the smile on her face widened. "Though, you would have to do a full job to be sure." As Markus's face reddened slightly, Lilian let out another ringing laugh, before walking to the wagon door, throwing it open and stepping down. Turning back to look at Markus, she let the smile fall from her face. "It will be first light in a few hours, get some rest."


As she swung the door closed, Markus shook his head, turning to face the mirror once more. Turning, he walked over to the bed, removing his shirt, before laying down on the thin mattress.

 

[WanderingJester]

The Suntear Knight


The Stands by the Jousting Field, Casterly Rock, Westerlands.



​

The Suntear Knight looked over to see the Morath Knight coming her way, the one that kept ignoring the officials on the tilt's instructions and doing his own thing. Raising a gauntlet she spoke with a cracked voice at first again before deepening it, "Hail- Ahem. Hail Ser Morath. I thank you for your words, though I must admit I don't enter the tilt as often as I would like." If I had my way I would be jousting every day, right after doing some shopping. Still she doubted she would want to do it everyday, more mayhaps once a week, to let herself heal a bit. Celena had not yet really harden to the point where she wouldn't be sore after. At the man's comment about their competition, she shrugged a bit. "I would hope that Lord Roland Wilds would be recovering after his many competitive matches, but if he joins then he would be one of the harder men to get past. The same if not more for the White Falcon, who won another tourney tilt a few years ago. That Hightower boy might not be an easy round either, as would Ser Titus Bracken over there." She nodded over to the Tullys, all gathering around to watch the heir of Stone Hedge try out.


The Suntear Knight remembered the man's eyes, as well as other features she wanted to ask, and decided to go with the option less likely to offend "Ser Morath" first. Looking over to him slightly, she commented, "So, how long have you had your horse? It looks like a Sand Steed, did you get it from Dorne or imported it?" Celena shifted in her seat, adjusting so her legs wouldn't fall asleep. "Mine's a rouncey. Had him since I was young. Rode him everywhere, so I got used to having him. My unc- trainer suggested I get another steed for the tilt, perhaps a courser but I was alway too used to Roddy. I'll likely use him until I decide to put away my lance." She sighed, before turning back to the brown hair, curious as to hear his tale as to how he came to his Dornish horse.


@TheAncientCenturion

 

[TheAncientCelt]

Casterly Rock


Viserys Blackfyre
​

The knight nodded thoughtfully as The Suntear Knight spoke of the competition. He had no idea who these people were, and with any luck he'd be able to gauge their skill on horse back once they applied for registration. He slid his helmet down on an empty spot between the two, gripping the pommel of Blackfyre tentatively as more names came out. He shifted, glancing at those around who she mentioned. 'A Hightower and Bracken in the tilt? This might give me an excuse to meet with them later.' Both Houses were staunch allies of the Black Dragon in previous generations and should Viserys show up with the promise of a better future, and possibly the support of the Lannisters, he was sure they'd rally behind his cause as well.


"Tell me of this Falcon and Wilds." Best to not draw attention to the Houses he'd later, he thought up quickly. He was sure Tiber was having one of his Lannister goons watching him, the fact of which surprisingly didn't bother Viserys as much as one would expect. It was still more prudent to not show his full hand at the wedding. "An Arryn is the Falcon, I assume? They're brave and strong knights - or so the rumors persist." He let a playful grin dance over his lips as he stared down at the Blackwood knight clearing the tilt in a not-so impressive fashion. "It'll be enthralling to cross lances with him." He lied smoothly.


As he asked the question about his beast of burden, Viserys felt some pride swell in his chest. Wind Cutter wasn't the best horse he ever rode atop of, but he was loyal and strong. And most importantly, he was Viserys'. "Wind Cutter." He looked back down at Suntear, who oddly wasn't removing his helm. 'I've known odder.' He pushed the thought away. "I. . " What would his story be this time? He couldn't reveal himself to everyone he came across. Part of Viserys wanted to repeat a lie similar to the one told to the Dornish pleasure woman. Another tried to think of a better lie. "Came across with a Sellsword Company." It wasn't a lie, exactly. "But our ship was taken by a Storm, and we landed at Castle Wyl. I needed a new mount, and Wind Cutter was my first choice." The smile grew. "I thought little of him at first, honestly. He's not the biggest out there, but he has stamina in folds."


Viserys nodded again. "I understand that sentiment. I've been through a few fair horses before, and I thought the same. It's hard to replace an animal you've used and physically let your success ride upon. It's like putting down a loyal hound."


@WanderingJester

 

[WanderingJester]

The Suntear Knight


The Stands by the Jousting Field, Casterly Rock, Westerlands.



​

The Suntear Knight watched Ser Morath set his helm down between them, and recalled his tale. A sellsword company? Did that mean he was from Essos? Perhaps an exiled Westerosi? She didn't let her thoughts go down that route, rather more so probed his past in other, more general ways. Celena recalled what she could about either Lord Rolands or Ser Trevir, but sadly she hadn't really seen either joust before. Still, the Suntear Knight had to make up what she could to fill the rest of what she knew. "Lord Roland just got his lordship from Lord Tiber, after the sacking of Fair Isles. Apparently the Lion hoped that with such a fighter as their lord, the isle might be better defended. He's pretty good on with a lance, though from what I've heard he's better on his feet." A servant who looked suspiciously like Kylie walked by with a tray full of cold drinks, and Celena gave a stare at her handmaiden in disguise before accepting the drink before continuing. The servant went to Ser Morath next. "What I've seen of Ser Trevir is... impressive, at least on the tilt. Off it however, he lacks certain social skills expected of him as a son of House Arryn." She lifted her visor just enough to tip the edge of her cup in it before taking a sip.


"A sellsword company huh?" The Suntear Knight looked over Ser Morath again, gauging the man. "You speak Westerosi very well, are you from Essos?" Taking another sip carefully without opening her visor, Celena continued. "Interesting tale. I just got Roddy as a gift when I was younger, but good to know someone else who understands the bond between a good horse and its owner. I agree with what you mean. Roddy's saved my life a few times, so he's practically family." She watched the next knight pass, hitting the quintain. The yellow flag went up. "Guessing you got that sword the same way? Or did that one have a more interesting tale?" she asked nonchalantly, as to not draw possible ire or alarm at the direct question to the strange sword at the man's side.


@TheAncientCenturion

 

[TheAncientCelt]

The Rock


Viserys
​

Viserys politely declined a beverage with a simple hand gesture, not bothering to look the maid over for an extra second. The name Wilds hit some far gone memory for Viserys, back of his childhood and the stories they'd tell. 'Wasn't there a famous Wilds once?' He wasn't sure, but if this man had some ancestor that had a grand enough reputation that children still echoed it, he was worth keeping an eye on. "Ahh, from the Ironborn raids." He shook his head. "Those are some frightful people. Hopefully someone comes up with a final solution to the Ironborn problem, soon. They seem incapable of a peaceful livelihood. Good fortune for Lord Wilds, however. Hopefully he can keep Fair Isle prospering after such an attack."


"An introverte? Those are never desirable for Lords. . Or so I hear." He shrugged, silently cursing himself for putting his thoughts far to the front. "The politics of lords and their lordlings isn't my field, after all." He tried to peak under the man's visor, curious at the face of who he was talking to. Viserys was fairly certain Suntear was just another mystery knight, too fearful of revealing themselves if he were to embarrass himself. But a nagging voice in the Blackfyre's king told him to take a peak. "Oh no, Ser. I'm not some. . " He had a quick chuckle to himself. "I'm not an Essosi. I may sound it at times, their accent sticks like shit to a castle wall. I'm from King's landing, but the life of a hedge knight can only take you so far. A Sellsword Company pays well enough, and when Lord Lannister was interested in mine, well, what would I do? Leave and stay in the Disputed Lands or work for the richest family in Westeros?"


As she questioned him on the sword, his face's bright smile shifted, as did his leg, the weight now being evenly distributed between both legs. "The sword was a gift from a man who I. . " He paused, and not for any short period of time. Pain flashed on his face, but it was quick, he masked it well. "He was very kind to me. I swore to keep it by my side as long as I live. . " Baelor Blackheart's face was pushed to the forefront of his mind. 'And I'm giving it away for an army. .' His nose scrunched up. 'Nonsense. Baelor would approve. Sitting on the throne is more important than a simple sword. He'd understand. .'





"Would he?" A cackling voice asked. Viserys shook the voice off.


"It's dear to me. More than Wind Cutter. . What of you, Suntear? Why do you hide your face?"





@WanderingJester

 

[WanderingJester]

The Suntear Knight


The Stands by the Jousting Field, Outside Casterly Rock, Westerlands.



​

The Suntear Knight watched the man answered as Kylie in disguise walked away, and noticed the slight reaction of something when he spoke about his sword. Ser Morath covered it well though, and so she couldn't tell what the reaction actually was, just that there was one amidst the smile. Thinking things over, she decided to simply continue the conversation. "Yes, an exiled house from the Reach. Indeed about the Ironborn as well, though I don't really see how Westeros would ever solve that raiding problems, aside from building fortresses along the coastal regions, and not everyone's as rich as the lions I'm afraid. My hopes as well in regards to Lord Wilds and the safety of Fair Isles."


Celena thought about Trevir Arryn and shrugged, "Lest something happens to his brother, Ser Trevir will not likely be Lord of the Eyrie or the Vale. He is a second born after all. So I suppose he's fine the way he is, though I have a feeling turbulent times will soon be upon us." She carefully took a sip again, letting the cup's edge move into the visor rather than her features out. Another rider passed in front of them, but on the further tilt. His lance missing the moving ring on the rope and the red flag appearing behind him. "Ah the Crownlands, it's been many years since I've visited there. I understand about the money. Again, not everyone is as rich as the Lannisters. Still, interesting that they're hiring such a large force for what is still a time of peace at the moment, even with the storm clouds on the horizon."


At his question about her, the Suntear Knight gave a practiced shrug. It wasn't the first time she had been questioned about her identity, and so she gave the usual answer. "Fair about your sword. It looks well made so I'm sure it's been through much with you. As for me, my family would not like me participating in such activities like fighting and jousting, preferring that I attend to my normal duties at home and such. However I do enjoy it too much to not participate, especially if I can attend the larger tourneys such as this one. A shame about missing the two melee rounds, though given my size I would not have lasted very long. At least I can make the joust though, and hopefully get some fun in." She turned and looked at him, "Any idea what you'll do with the 100 dragons? How about the Queen of Love and Beauty?"


@TheAncientCenturion


@Hypnos

 

[TheAncientCelt]

Casterly Rock


Viserys Blackfyre
​

"A war should be waged on the Ironborn filth." He shook his head, disapproving of the concept of Ironborn raiders. "If they cannot live on their islands a peaceful life, then I'd expect some lord of king to silence them already. How many rebellions has it been, six? Seven? Ludicrous." Viserys couldn't understand how so many Westerosi hadn't yet finished the sailors off. If it were his house to be attacked, he wouldn't stop until at least the current house was disposed of. 'Westerosi are weak.' He subtly shook his head. "Wilds is from the Reach? And now he's a Western Lord? What a family story to tell."


Viserys felt heat rush to his face. A king looking to take the throne should know the major families of Westeros, yet he did not. 'I am but a hedge knight.' He reminded himself. "Ahh. Still, should it not be in the best interest of this Ser to socialize more? I understand sons and daughters of major Houses are sold for alliances." He tried to play it off as if he was half sure himself, but Viserys wasn't positive how convincing he was. He laughed little when Suntear mentioned the state of the Crownlands. "It's a shithole, with everything revolving around a city that makes its bed on its own feces." Viserys was always a hard critic of the city. There was so much potential to be had, but every king and queen seemed less interested in actually pushing King's Landing to its fullest. "I'd be happy if I never saw the city again. But, with the Storm Lords rising, it's only a matter of time. Lord Lannister bought us all to fight them, methinks."


Ser Morath wisely chose to not comment further on Blackfyre. It would do nothing to help him, instead he'd focus on whatever prattle Ser Suntear was on about. Viserys' violet orbs looked down at the helm, glancing over at the field only every once in awhile. "An overprotective family, eh? Or are you just the man responsible for the income that floods into the farmstead?" He chuckled lightly, throwing must of his weight back on his right leg as he began to settle down from the unexpected question on his sword. "Tourney's of this size come only. . Oh, once every twenty years? You'd be a fool to not enter. And with the bounties and rewards at the end, you'll be ale to provide for your family for the rest of your life off of this alone." His smile grew. "If you can unhorse me, naturally. I expect to be the last man sitting, before the tourney is over."


He exhaled heavily, teeth at the forefront of his smile. "A hundred gold dragons? That's the reward? Fame . . That's what I'd like more than ever, but the gold won't hurt. As for the queen of love and beauty." Who would he name? He'd hate to admit it, but the first and strongest reason for entering the tourney was for his own personal enjoyment. He'd later called the move strategic, showing off what he personally could do, but the gold and the added bonus of honoring a maiden never occurred to him before. "The queen, mayhaps. Or the wife-to-be of Lord Lannister. It would be rude to not pick one of those two, would it not?


@WanderingJester

 

[WanderingJester]

The Suntear Knight


The Stands by the Jousting Field, Outside Casterly Rock, Westerlands.



​

The Suntear Knight couldn't help but notice the man's passion when discussing the Ironborn. From the sheer hatred in his voice, it was as though he had suffered some grieve injustice from them. Mayhaps a survivor of the recent sack of the Fair Isles? Nay, he had not the same reaction from when she mentioned about that. A Reachmen? But he had never heard of House Wilds so that couldn't be it. A Northman? Do Northman even have hedge knights? She shook her head. Another war is just what they didn't needed, with more lives lost. Still, given the future lives taken by the continued raid, perhaps it might be for the best? Turning back to Ser Morath, she spoke. "Then perhaps you would be in favor of an invasion of Essos and Dorne as well? It seems that rumor has it another Blackfyre is trying to start the Sixth Blackfyre Rebellion, just as the Ironborns have rebelled over time. Dorne also have a history of rebellious tendency as well." She didn't say so in a condescending tone, just a mild curiosity that spurred from his responses.


Thinking about House Arryn again, Celena shrugged. "It would be ill advised otherwise, yet from what I could tell Lord Arryn doesn't care much outside of martial discipline from his sons, though the political power he wields now as Hand of the Queen is immensive, if not wasteful. Again, if the rumors could be trusted." She finished off the drink, before placing the cup next to the knight's helmet. "It's been a while, so my memory of King's Landing is foggy at best. Though from what I've seen, I don't believe it's as bad as you say. Still, you are from there, so I suppose you would know better than me." In truth, Celena had been to the Red Keep herself not long ago, but the Suntear Knight in truth haven't been to King's Landing yet. "As for the Stormlords, I'm not sure if the Lions would have grievances against them. They might fight eventually, as is the duty of each Warden of the Realm to defend the crown, but by then one side might be so battered by the fighting that it's barely more than token resistance."


When the man began commenting on her family Celena felt a bit of burning in her stomach. She might not be fond of everyone in it, but they were still her blood. Scowling behind her helmet, she took a moment to calm herself before replying. "Overprotective is a a good word. My family does well enough that likely any income I bring back from these events won't even be noticed. They have more than enough for themselves and their children as well. Still, like you said, an event like this likely won't occur again for some time, so why not take part of it?" She gave a light chuckle at his jest. "I will certainly do my best Ser Morath, as I'm sure to expect that from you as well." The man wanted fame? Perhaps the son of a minor house with ambitions? She thought about his response to her question and added. "Mayhaps if you intended to marry either of those woman. If you don't already know, it's traditional to crown the woman you will to betrothed to as the Queen of Love and Beauty. Not sure how Lord Lannister will take to such a statement. However, if you are trying to be King Consort, I suppose there are no better choice to crown than the Queen." She shrugged, looking back at the registration tryouts in front of them.


@TheAncientCenturion


@Hypnos

 

[TheGreyEminence]

SER BENJICOTT TULLY


The Stands by the Jousting Field, Casterly Rock, Westerlands.

​

You could always tell when Benji was angry , he never was good at keeping his emotions pent up without making distasteful jests that is . Benji paced up and down the corridor thinking about what had just happened and what could happen , his mother was a hard and strict woman but she wasn't the type to send her children up to the wall , or was she ?


Benji's train of thought was broken when he saw his younger brother Lothar coming down the hall .


"I suppose you've come here to bid your brother goodbye as he's sent of to the wall , lord paramount ." said benji in a mocking tone .


"Funny , I'm just here to make sure you don't do something stupid , like punch the stable boy in the face ."


Benji lashed back at him "You always were a mama's boy weren't you , Oh look at me i'm fucking Lothar i'm sooo goddamn perfect !! "


"Fuck off , I came here because of you , you're an idiot and a drunkard but you're also a Tully and my brother which is nev-"


Benji punched him in the face before he could finish and the two men were now in a fistfight rolling on the ground .


"We all know you're the favored child , well this is your chance take it and be done with it , I'll be at the wall and you'll be free to rule , we both know it would be for the best !! " Benji said before throwing him onto the on of the walls of the corridor .


Lothar rested his back on the wall and wiped the blood off of his face "I could but I won't , family , duty , honor remember"


Benji gave a loud bellow of laughter which made Lothar laugh too "You naive bastard" Benji said as he helped his brother onto his feet. "Get yourself cleaned up , I've got a joust to win and i need my brother to be cheering me along the way" .


"You wish , I've put my money on Roland Wilds"

 

[TheAncientCelt]

The Rock


Viserys Blackfyre



​

"Mayhaps." He began. The knight had to be careful. His opinions were too strong, he felt, for a simple hedge knight. But then again so was Suntear combating him with quick responses lacking the idiocy of the lower classes, as well. "We are knights, Ser Suntear. My answer to any opposition is with a blade in hand and the enemies throat in reach." His hand moved up the Valyrian Steel handle, covering one dragon head. "I can't say I'd know what to do with the Dornish or the Golden Company, other then fight them. I'm not some lord or politician."


"House Arryn is a strange House of a strange place. That doesn't surprise me all too much. It was a smart move, making Gelgin the Hand. The Vale Knights are fierce soldiers and good allies, I've fought against and with them in the past." That got his mind working. Viserys was fine with fighting the martial obsessed Storm Lords, they weren't half as good as they liked to think. But the Riders of the Vale were capable of ending armies and forcing routes, when used properly. Gelgin was a man who Viserys wasn't entirely informed about, also. It brought up concern over concern. 'I need Tiber's gold.' He thought for not the first time that day. "King's Landing is a city that will kill itself unless Queen Kuvira acts quickly. You can quote me on that, Ser."


Licking his lips, Viserys looked back at the maiden. "Mayhaps I should've grabbed a drink. It's never good luck to drink before a fight or ride, but the day is hot, is it not?" It took the knight another moment to return to the conversation at hand. "And of course Lord Tiber will march off to war soon. You don't think the Mad Lion is going to keep his army at rest when opportunity is lurking?" He half chuckled. Should this Suntear be a Lannister creature, or one should be listening, Viserys was confident Tiber would take some offense to his words. But the two already discussed this, and the Blackfyre King would say nothing other than what a knight in his position would assume. "The Queen is here to make a deal with the man who stomped out two rebel houses with ruthless efficiency to help stamp out a rebellious kingdom. He has sellswords, like myself, here. He has his army centralized. It's just down to how much he can pry from the dragon queen's hands. Before the Tourney is over, battle plans will be laid out between the Dragon and the Lion." He licked his lips again. "And if you think your family is overprotective now, wait until you're called upon to fight in this war, Ser Suntear. It'll devastate them."


He purposefully chose not to comment on the large bounty one received for winning. 'It would go unnoticed? For most minor Houses, this would be a boost that could support a feast.' Viserys was believing more and more this was someone less like the common knight, and someone of a respectable House. 'There are too many of those to guess. But mayhaps a Dornish, for the clear name they wear. Stoney, I'd imagine. Though a Reach lord is just as likely.' Viserys finally sat down, the helmet still between them. He would focus on the jousting more than ever, now. "Oh? Well, my secret is out, Ser Sun." He chuckled. "You know how many of these tilts I've won personally. It would be improper of me to court the young Brax lass, and the queen? I am but a lowly hedge knight and sellsword. I'd lose the hands I offered her my favor with, for certain. What about you? Who will you crown if you should win?





@WanderingJester

 

[WanderingJester]

The Suntear Knight

​

The Stands by the Jousting Field, Outside Casterly Rock, Westerlands.

​

The Suntear Knight listened and watched the tryouts in front of her. "Well, then mayhaps I should be glad to be such a lowly knight myself, and have to concern myself less with things like rule and land and politics of the higher born." She watched as another knight rode by, hitting the dummy target in the chest, splintering his spear and the official raising the green flag to go up. "Fierce soldiers, as I imagine the Stormlands will find out soon enough. If the Vale have indeed allied with the Crownlands, then they can effectively block the North from aiding the Stags at the Neck, should the Direwolves muster their banners. They are experienced in fighting, as most would if they have to constantly defend themselves from raiding Mountain Men." She gave a pause at his words about the capital. "Mayhaps I will quote you Ser Morath, when I go back home."


At his call of her older brother by some fool name, Celena closed her eyes for a moment. She couldn't agree that his actions didn't make the Lord of Casterly Rock seemed mad. Still, was her brother as bad as the last King of Westeros? Was this the beginning of him turning into their father? She shook her head mentally. No, Tiber's done nothing but separate himself from their father, and he would do what was best for House Lannister, and the Westerland as a whole. If she didn't trust her own blood, what could she trust. Turning back to Ser Morath, she spoke again. "I would be wary of calling the Lord of Casterly Rock mad, especially whilst we sit in that fortress's shadows. Still, what one might call mad might be genius to another. Striking now for either side would push a massive advantage to either her Grace or the rebels. Almost ensuring victory to whichever side the lions gathers behind."


"I wonder, battle plans against whom? Did such plans existed before this tourney?" The Suntear Knight wondered aloud as another knight passed, missing the dummy's chest and only hitting the arms. The red flag went up. "Mayhaps, or mayhaps m'lord would not go to war at all. Us lesser knights can never know the machinations of such men these days." She looked back at him, as he chuckled about the ignorance of crowning a Queen of Love and Beauty. Celena shrugged in response. "Not sure. Haven't given it much though. Mayhaps I'll start thinking about it once I win the final round, otherwise I like to focus on the tilt itself. T'is not wise to count victories before they occur after all."


@TheAncientCenturion


@Hypnos

 

[TheAncientCelt]

Casterly Rock


Viserys Blackfyre
​

"And why not? Would you call a lion a horse, if only to not offend the lion?" Viserys brushed the man's concerns away. "I'm not too worried of the man, personally. All leaders need to be as he is, but most are cowards in the current. Groomed to accept gifts, loyalties, and goodwill for doing nothing themselves. A man like Tiber Lannister is needed in every house, in every kingdom. But being under the thumb of others has made this necessity die. Proud houses now are subservient, it's a bit disheartening to see. It'd be better off for them to die strong then live like worms. So do not take my words on the Lion of Lannister harshly, he is what he needs to be. But that doesn't change what he is. A lion is a killer, even if it killed to protect its cubs."


He listened, lending Ser Suntear his ear as he spoke of a genius, of whichever side the lions chose would be the victor. And he laughed, not insultingly, but an earnest one. "Mayhaps, Suntear. But the lords of the Reach are a powerful force to contend with, and wars are not always decided based on the battlefield. I would never call the Lannister a genius myself, but all things could change before Winter hits, when the blood shedding starts in earnest. It'll be short, at least. The Winter will come and it will smother the war, and all the peasants who thought to make themselves famous, or thought they were doing their lords just, will freeze and die. But the war will end, and the powerful will remain powerful. But. . " He gripped blackfyre tightly, "Who are we, simple knights of no great houses to judge? Maybe the lords who rule over us truly are superior in ways our eyes cannot see, and their lives worth ten of ours."


Viserys looked on at Ser Suntear's helmet, a somber smile, he spoke quietly. "I preached too much. It must be the lack of wine in me, but the topic of wars, of mad lions, and losing the tilt has caught up with me. It strikes me as if the Wall has fallen and the Long Night renewed descends upon us." He let out a longer laugh this time. His face didn't shrink nor did he seem to bashful about his tirade. "I'm much better company with I'm busy, but my hands are idle things." His left hand hit the air, two fingers raised above the balled fist. "Bar Maiden, this way, I have changed my mind." He called back to the servant.


@WanderingJester

 

[WanderingJester]

The Suntear Knight


The Stands by the Jousting Field, Outside Casterly Rock, Westerlands.

​

The Suntear Knight merely shrugged at the other knight's words. "He is who he is, though I think it's more of a wisdom to not wander into a dragon's nest and call the matriarch a bitch. It's not the case as to how I take your words, though I don't consider them harsh. It's more of a concern of yours how the Warden of the West would take them." She watched the tryouts continued, as the field got much more busy now than before. More and more knights and riders were arriving, likely due to the end of the melee brackets. Another servant, not a certain handmaiden in disguise, came over with some more drinks and offered them to Ser Morath. Celena gave a chuckle as she reflected the man's words. "You a son of the Starks? All these talks of winter and their comings. I didn't know they had knights in the North." She took another cup and began sipping.


Looking back over to the man with the purple eyes, she continued. "Yes, the fires of war and the Stranger comes for all, yet if we feared death so much, neither of us would be knights, no? I agree, sitting in the stands doesn't suit me either; I much rather be doing something. In fact, I think I'll go grab some dinner, it's getting crowded in here and the day warmer. It was a... good time talking to you Ser Morath, till we meet again." Celena lifted her cup and finished its content before getting up off the stands. The Suntear Knight began walking away from the other knight, weaving through the many others who have qualified and now observing potential competitors on the field, and towards the exit of the stands.


@TheAncientCenturion


@Hypnos

 

[Leusis]

Roland Wilds - Casterly Rock - Melee Pit

​

Roland sat silently just outide of the pit, the wooden beams seperating him from the dirt that had been packed down by a full days worth of duels only feet away. Sitting upon a small bench Roland had his longsword plunged half a foot into the dirt, his pommel pointed upwards at the bright afternoon sky. The heat penetrated his suit of full platemail like he was a roll in a bakers oven though the breeze staved off any kind of effect it would have on his performance. Working his mailed fingers gently around the hilt of his blade he tied a yellow ribbon to it, near the pommel. He had taken it from Lady Kylie the night before without her noticing, intent on honoring her with it in his last duel before he became champion. Or at least he hoped, his opponent was Trevir Arryn, a boy, but a dangerous one he had to admit.


Looking to the noble crowd and then to the commoners a man would pat Roland's shoulder, signaling for him to enter the pit. Sliding his body between the two wooden beams that made up the lateral part of the fence he would come in to full view of the noble audience. Holding his sword high in the breeze he meant to reveal the ribbon he had taken from Kylie as it blew in the breeze, searching for her in the crowd, smirking under his helm. "For your honor, Lord Tiber" Roland spoke loudly for his liege to hear before taking a bow "And for Lady Kylie" he said before placing his hand over his heart, still clinching his longsword tightly. If this did not win her affections, he did not know what would, but knowing women how he did, she was probably melting on the inside while he father was more than likely raging.


Looking to his opponent across from him Roland would stab his blade into the ground before he removed his helm, holding it to his right hip. Studying the boy before him Roland could see Trevir was smaller than he had been at the same age but he had always been larger than most though not nearly as much as the likes of Martyn Lannister. Taking note of the shiny Vale armor that Trevir wore and looking down at his own dented and dirty plate he chuckled. "A knight in shining armor is a man who has not had his metal truly tested" Roland paused, putting his helm back on and pulling his blade from the dirt, holding it at his side. "Prepare to be tempered boy" Roland spoke, trying incite some kind of anger in Trevir, to throw him off his game in the first few seconds of combat.


Bringing his blade firmly into both hands he would grip the hilt tight as he positioned his blade low, the tip pointed towards Trevir's chest. Slowly he would begin to shift his feet in the dirt, beginning the dance of combat, moving in a slow circular pattern. Eyeing Trevir closely he looked for any openings in his defense, any errors in his footwork, body language that gave away his next action. This was an eye for battle that had been trained through dozens of duels and battles, an eye for mistakes lesser swordmen than him made all too regularly, mistakes he knew to exploit.


@WanderingJester


@Fezzes

 

[Obi-Wan Kenobi]

Casterly Rock, Melee Pit


POV: Trevir Arryn

Trevir tapped his plated foot impatiently as he sat and waited for his time to come. Celena wasn't around to watch, so that wasn't making him so nervous, and he'd been focusing out the crowds to some degree. It was hard when you were almost among them. The heat was especially irritating, this time around. He was used to the Vale and its slightly cooler climate. Ah, well, there isn't much one could do about that but hope the breeze would be enough to keep the heat at bay from worsening his ability. To be honest, he was a little nervous about this next opponent. He'd not at all been in top condition at the melee, but his opponent had cleaved through a dozen men, including a couple of his personal friends. But he couldn't let his anger about that affect him, either. Anger lended a modicum of strength and speed to him and his blows, true, but his skill would lapse. From what he'd seen of his opponent, Roland Wilds, he'd take advantage of that. No, he needed to keep sharp and calm.


A man tapped Trevir's shoulder to signal his time, and he rocked himself to his feet, sword and shield in hand. He slipped into the arena and eyed Roland. A longsword, no shield. Definitely confident in his own skill, then. He had a longer reach, and his blade would probably move a little quicker than Trevir's own, with two hands on it. But he couldn't attack and defend at the same time. Or at least, not very well. Dodging back from Trevir's sword while swinging his own was not out of the question. Roland had the reach from his own sword, as well as a natural advantage from his height. Trevir had switched to fight left-handed, since most had far less experience against such a warrior. An edge, but not a dishonourable one, like the type employed by that Martell shit, Cayden. He'd been liking that man up till that point, too. Trevir let Roland declare whatever he wanted to. He noted a ribbon in the colours of... ah, he didn't know the Westerlands houses well enough. Maester Cale would be disappointed. Then he declared for Lady Kylie, who Trevir thought he remembered as Celena's handmaiden. Oh, that'll be fun for him. He almost didn't want to win this one, now. Who was he to stand between a man and his love, after all? But Roland would probably just be insulted by such a move, if he was any kind of knight.


Well, it wouldn't do to stay silent after that, would it? Trevir raised his sword a little, shield and eyes still fixed on Roland. "For a great deal of entertainment!" The crowd collectively chuckled, but settled quickly. They would not be distracted from the fight. Roland started up with a taunt, trying to incite him. Trevir would not be shaken nearly so easily, however. "Sorry, you were saying something? All I heard was ego. Let's see how warranted that ego is, shall we?" He held his shield to the middle of his chest, roughly where Roland's sword was pointed. No way would the sword stay there, but it was a good centre of mass position, and moving the sword elsewhere would take time, which could be used to move the shield. Basic fighting. Meanwhile, his sword was low, snaking from side to side at about Roland's knee level. Keep the man on his toes.


Trevir paced even with Roland, keeping a hawk's eye on him and on nothing else. He kept an ear out for the Lord Tiber to start the match, but beyond that, every sense was zeroed in on Roland. When the call would come, he'd wait for just a moment, then start an attack. Going straight away would just be too expected, but at the same time he wasn't going to wait for Roland to take the initiative with his longer weapon. He'd briefly made that mistake earlier against Cayden, and he wasn't going to do so again.


@WanderingJester @Leusis

 

[WanderingJester]

Martyn Lannister


The Stands by the Melee Pit, Outside Casterly Rock, Westerlands.



​

Ser Martyn Lannister stood as part of the security detail at the highborn area, more or less keeping the peace as he stood under the wide eyed stare of several nearby children, and a few further away adults whom mostly had the self control and courtesy to pretend to not stare. In his custom platemail which Martyn always found himself comfortable in, even in hotter weather, the lions scupted from steel, along with his size, must have made him seemed like one of those knights from the tales their nan told them as they go to sleep. Martyn shifted, as the armor pieces moved as well and an audiable gasp came from the crowd of children. A wandering thought went through his mind; which knight from the tales did he reminded them of? Seeing as a child somehow steeled himself enough to come over to him probably meant that he wasn't the one that kidnapped naughty children. The child, who happened on to be a Lannister, pulled on a plate on his armor.


"Big cousin Martyn? Is what mommy said true? Are you going to protect us from bad people?" Martyn looked down at the tiny child, barely old enough to lift a toy sword, yet standing in his shadows with more fearlessness than many men he had slain. While the Mountain Lion had never really been forward with children, he felt somewhat obligated to answer the child. Carefully patting the child's head with his armored hand, he responded.


"Yes child, I'm here to defend House Lannister and the Westerlands." The child blushed before looking with awe at him.


"I want to be just like you when I grew up!" Martyn flashed back briefly to the events of Tarbeck Hall, and what he had participated in. What his own blood ordered. He looked around at the bodies, at the screaming and begging women and crying children. How many were of this child's age or younger? How many would grow up to attack House Lannister once again? Another tug brought him back to reality, and he looked down at the child.


"What is your name boy?" The small Lannister swelled with pride and address the Mountain Lion.


"Drak Lannister! Son of Ser Tranis Lannister of Casterly Rock!" Though usually serious, Martyn couldn't help but crack a smile at the tiny child.


"Well then Ser Drak, I hope you grow up to be an even better knight than I, so that in my old age I can rest easy knowing that the Westerlands are safe." Drak nodded, his face red, as Martyn patted him on the head again before gently pushing him back to the crowd of children. "Go back to your parents now, the match will start soon and they would worry if you weren't nearby." The children mostly run off, with a mix of admiration and a bit of fear at the Mountain Lion's command. Turning back to the pit, Martyn watched as both Roland and Trevir walked out on to the pit and began their pre battle rituals. The new lord of House Wilds gave some honors to Tiber, who raised his hand in recognizing return. Then he said something unimportant about some Peckledon girl, likely Celena's handmaiden. Martyn gave a quick glance down the stands. If Celena weren't there, it was likely that her handmaiden wouldn't be either, though it was like Roland Wilds to be theatrical outside of combat. The Mountain Lion still wonders how the man can flip on his discipline that much when he was in combat versus when he wasn't.


On the other side, Trevir Arryn, despite the skill that brought him here, looked as nervous as a spring boy. Martyn understood that the Arryn son had problems with crowds, but if he can't even handle a simple tourney, how would he lead army's charge, or an assault on a fortress, where thousands more would desperately look to him to provide an example that would literally determine whether the Stranger would take them before nightfall? Yet another that puzzles him, given how focused the other young man was when he was actually in combat (as far as Martyn could see). They exchange a few words, likely less than clever insults, and began circling each other. The motions, between the clearly veteran Wilds and the younger, more spirited Trevir, jolted Martyn back to the day they assaulted Tarbeck Hall. Suddenly, just as before, he stood in the blood soaked courtyard of House Tarbeck's seat.


In front of him, Roger Reynes pulled his sword out the last Lionguard that went up against him. Warne, the last member who had been with him since the start of all of this, saw the battle Martyn had on his hand with the rest of the Red Lion's retinue and threw himself at the Red Lion, buying him precious time with his own life. They had known each other since they were squires, serving together at Crakehall under the guidance of Lord Crakehall and other veteran knights. The boy had no chance against Roger Reynes. Seven Hells, Martyn didn't even know if he had a chance against the man, but he would be damned if he backed down from his duty. The older man observed the 16 years old in front of him, as though examining a well made sword, and the two began circling one another. Martyn, despite his discipline telling him to keep his eyes on Reyne, nevertheless found his gaze drawn to the dead around them. Iarius, Darris, Lendan, Corris. Everyone dead. Even Ser Armmen, who had been one of the men that trained him and the only one to volunteered as his Lionguard, fell at the hands of the Red Lion.


The rain from the week before had made the ground wet and muddy, and the blood didn't help. Were they not on paved ground, the footing for the fight would be terrible. Looking back at Reynes, the man still had his weapon to the side, not even at ready.


"You have much of your life to live Lannister. Turn back."


Standing at ready with his sword as they circle, Martyn replied, surprising himself with the calmness from his own voice. "Were you in my stead, would you run?"


Roger Reyne gave a smile, perhaps even the chuckle, but against the sounds of combat in the background Martyn couldn't tell. "I suppose not. Very well then." He raised his bastard sword up at guard now. A lion bearing his fangs. "A shame, sixteen and no older."


Martyn gave a wary smile in return, one devoid of feelings, warmth or malice. One of them would die this day, perhaps both. Either way, he would complete his charge as a son of House Lannister. "Guess we'll find out which lions' claws are sharper this day."


"We shall."


Then the Red Lion rushed him, and the Mountain Lion raised his own weapon to meet him. After a moment, when his hands lacked the impact from the Red Lion's weapon, did Martyn looked around once more. The sky was not overcast but sunny, with some clouds floating around. The grey walls of Tarbeck Hall faded back into the roaring crowd, and the screams and battlecries turned into cheers and jeers of the lowborn. The bodies of his brothers-in-arms disappeared into the melee pit, where Trevir Arryn was about to clash with Roland Wilds for the winning prize of the melee bracket.


@Lancelot


@Leusis


@AnnoDomini


@Fezzes


@LittleWolfie


@Robyn Banks (For your reading pleasure)

 

[Mion]

Harrenhal


POV: Kay Baelish


Most unfortunate, mayhaps if I had kept my eyes open on the road I would have caught the bitch... They catch her, relieve her of a hand and then let her slip through their fingers?! "Do not fret Ser Warren, I will send word to my men at the first chance, if she manages toget near the city she will be quickly taken care of."


Warrens words eased Kay a great deal, despite the scepticism initially now that Kay had told him what he wanted to hear he was seemingly trusting him, he then turned to Lady Meave "I can only imagine the pain you and your House have gone through, I hope you and your son find peace once the Targaryens have been dealt with." Kay then rose to his feet and walked over to Lady Meave before offering a hand up "I suppose I should retreat to my room now no? There is much to be done before the morrow."


@TheFordee14


Lordsport


POV: Siegfried Harlaw


Good, if they are an unknown I am sure they will at least hear my words. "It seems we all have family that despised us HAR!" Siegfried commented. Siegfried rubbed his chin at Vaughans suggestion, "If you wish to join me than you will be welcomed to, perhaps some of the men that will not listen to what I have to say will listen to you?" Siegfried looked at Vaughan with some worry The man has lost most of his family and the only one he has left are bastards and traitors, staying in Pyke would not do him any good.


"We would be leaving by dawn tomorrow, fortunately we have time to relax and we simply need the backing of the majority, not all."


@TheFordee14


Casterly Rock


POV: Daeron Nymeros Martell


Daeron watched over his brother, he had fallen victim to another one of those fits that plagued him (assuming Daeron wouldn't know what asthma is) despite all of his strength and charm Cayden lay on the bed helpless, it was an odd site to see from the eyes of a younger brother as much as it was a sad one. Apparently it had struck during the melee I should have been there to aid him Daeron thought with remorse, sometimes family should come before personal feelings but Daeron had made a habit of forgetting that. The night before Daeon had found no rest, it seemed outside of Dorne it came scarce to him, he had spent most of the night back in the Stone Garden, reading and meditating.


"Still alive..." he heard his brother say to his surprise, a sigh of relief escaped Daeron. "Unfortunately time has escaped me the past few days, but if it means anything you have not been out of it for long... It is nice to see that it was nothing serious, now all the women can be at ease." Daeron jested, he couldn't imagine what his brother was feeling as he had never experienced anything like what he did.


@Akio


Casterly Rock


POV: Lyonel Hightower


Fuck. Was the first thought that Lyonel had as he awoke in his tent, his head pounded as he sat himself up and he rubbed his eyes, the mere thought of sunlight irritated them. As he shielded his eyes he looked around his bed, empty bottles scattered the floor What?! Lyonel attempted to stand but only found himself back on his arse. The melee... what time is it?! His mind began to rush, and that only made it hurt more, he had no recognition of the night before, the last thing he remembered was sitting down at the table with his men and sister at the feast. Luckily Ben Costayne made his way into the tent, apparently to wake him up, "Ahh, it seems you already found your way up my lord." he heard him say although processing it was harder than normal, there was a small hint that he was holding back laughter, the drinks must have been something to do with him... or was it the embarrassment of being defeated in such a manner in the melee...? No, there was no shame in that, but I never achieved what I had came here for. It seemed the second time was the charm, as Lyonel managed to pull himself onto his feet.


"The bracket... when will it begin?" Lyonel said worryingly, he was hopeful that he had not missed the damn thing. "Don't worry about it my lord, I came to get you up so you had time to prepare for it." Lyonel nodded his head as he walked towards Ben before clapping him on the shoulder in consideration "You have my thanks." Ben gave a smile before replying simply "No problems my lord, you were not the best sight last night but it is a pleasure seeing you now." as he chuckled. Lyonels face went a bit red, "What do you mean... was it bad?" Ben shook his head "Aye a bit, but to be honest I only encouraged you. Your sister got quite the laugh last night, insulting the Lannisters after rushing into a scuffle." Lyonel wiped his brow shit... Ben then nodded his head "I will take my leave then, I will send someone to retrieve you for the melee." Lyonel returned the nod as he walked out of the tent.


Right then, where is my sword?


-


Lyonel removed his helm and let it drop to the floor, beside him was his sister and Ben Costayne along with a few of his men, making it to the semi-finals of the bracket was no small feat yet. "So how did the arse kicking go?" Morgan teased him, apparently he had made a comment about taking down Roland Wilds the night before... "I like to think that we both got our fair share in thank you very much!" Lyonel responded humorously despite the pain he was feeling, close to collapsing his head had a constant ring to it and his body was aching all over from the day of combat. Morgan rolled her eyes at that "Yeaaah sure you did." Lyonel let out a huff, he had no ill will towards Wilds and respected him as a knight but being embarrassed in front of family was never a fun thing.


Instead of watching the final of the melee, Lyonel had decided to get the jousting entry over and done with, despite how he was feeling he felt that he would be more than capable of competing, he likely had a better chance on horse than he did on foot anyways Lets hope Ser Arryn is alright after his bout with Wilds, I mean to see for myself how good he is with his lance.


Honeyholt


POV: Bedivere Hightower


Bedivere made quick work of the travel to honeyholt where he met with Lord Beesbury and his men, letters had already been sent and the forces had been mustering ever since, all of them were to rally at Honeyholt where Bedivere would take command of them in his brother Lyonels absence Why he decided now was the time to visit the rock is beyond me but by the gods is it stupid. Ser Markus Flowers and a small group of men was sent to collect him as soon as the news broke of the coming war. Bedivere could only hope they reached his brother in time.


Already around 2000 men had arrived at the camp, and the number grew day after day, the plan was to raise 6000 troops in total before journeying back to Highgarden, Bedivere felt that they could provide more but between his mother and father they had convinced him that it was more than charitable.

 

[Akio]

Casterly Rock
POV: Daeron Nymeros Martell


Daeron watched over his brother, he had fallen victim to another one of those fits that plagued him (assuming Daeron wouldn't know what asthma is) despite all of his strength and charm Cayden lay on the bed helpless, it was an odd site to see from the eyes of a younger brother as much as it was a sad one. Apparently it had struck during the melee I should have been there to aid him Daeron thought with remorse, sometimes family should come before personal feelings but Daeron had made a habit of forgetting that. The night before Daeon had found no rest, it seemed outside of Dorne it came scarce to him, he had spent most of the night back in the Stone Garden, reading and meditating.


"Still alive..." he heard his brother say to his surprise, a sigh of relief escaped Daeron. "Unfortunately time has escaped me the past few days, but if it means anything you have not been out of it for long... It is nice to see that it was nothing serious, now all the women can be at ease." Daeron jested, he couldn't imagine what his brother was feeling as he had never experienced anything like what he did.


@Akio

Caydens gaze fell on his brother, hearing Daeron jest causing Cayden to force a smile for him even if his body still felt like a truck ran over him. Trevir had gotten his vengeance it seemed as he was having the attack. "Not that he could have known what was happening." He thought to himself. He had only vague memories of their fight, the ringing of steel on steel for some time before darkness. He tried sitting up but a sudden shortness of breath sent him right back down panting trying to catch his breath. The attacked had passed but he still felt as if a weight was pushing down on his chest. "Not to bad, though it seemed like it at first. Almost thought I was gonna see father again, maybe I started to go up and he kicked me back down?" He said with a grin sense of humor as his eyes starred up at the ceiling, atypical of the Cayden he once knew who would have woke up laughing but also eeriely familiar. Cayden is silent for awhile, his joke reminding him of his father and what he was doing the day he died causing him to pause, as if he didn't know what to say before continuing on. "Did you know..." he said, his voice a whisper in the dark room, "That I didn't know father was dead till almost three weeks after he died?" He said, the confession heavy on his tongue.


"Letters rarely reach the field and my group rarely makes out position known unless we stop in cities so when the letter finally reached me in the disputed lands, father was already buried." He said, continuing on his voice solemn and somewhat weak. "People like to say if someone close to you, someone you love, dies~ that you feel it. There's an ill humor in the air, or some omen tells you something is wrong, that their gone... But there was nothing, there was nothing at all. All that happened that day for me was a skirmish with the Second Sons where I personally put 10 men in the ground during that battle to claim an insignficant hill that I later gave back to them in order to take a different plain better suited for my horses from the Company of Cats. Another day in the trade of killing." He could remember that day, the screams of horses and the dying screams of men and the smell of those dying emptying their bowls, something he had somehow grown used to. He glanced at Daeron, prepared for the peaceful boys judgement but he could not stop the words flowing from his mouth, as if a possible near death experience made him want to tell someone, anyone, about what he was doing on the day his father died, before and since.


He slowly raised his hand to stare at them, seeing the callouses cultivated of years of practice, the scars, and the blood he could almost see slipping through his fingers. "I've killed hundreds of people.. I tried to keep track, one apon a time... But I lost track a long time ago. I lead a mercenary company, served in one even before that after I left the house of Black and White. I've killed hundreds of people, and have ordered the deaths of thousands more, both friend and foe alike. And every life had a price." He said closing his eyes for a moment. "I'm not like you Daeron, my hands are no good at making something beautiful like your paintings or clever enough to be a craftsman or write beautiful poetry. The only thing these hands are good for is killing, and even when I try to escape it, war finds me." He said placing his elbows on the table and sitting up using them as props. "I'm not scared of death anymore, not for myself. I don't care if I die." He said his voice carrying a note of dark finality. "But if was is coming here I have a duty to protect you, to protect my family. I will see house Martell through this war, whatever the cost, or die trying." He said, turning on the bed so he could sit up straight and looking at Daeron and Nyalla as if gaging their reactions. "I'm gonna go enjoy the wedding, etheir of you would like to come?" Cayden asked simply as he moved to stand up, fighting his earlier weakness.


@SirDerpingtonIV @Lancelot

 

[Grammatic]

Markus Waters


Near Casterly Rock

​

" Now, with the tourney at the Rock, there will be many, many people. And with many many people, there is a lot of buissness to be done, as such..." Shaking his head, Markus blocked out the booming voice of Zegrid coming from the wagon up front, instead prefering to nod and smile at the few people who glanced up from the dirt. The merchant was currently instructing the newest member of the buissness on good economic something or other. It was all quiet boring in Markus's mind. Despite having a good head for math and similar related things, he only ever focused on it when he had to.


His horse, a old and seasoned mare with chestnut hair, snorted briefly as a boy came too close to her, and Markus leaned forward to pat her head. Hearing a brief burst of laughter, Markus turned to see Lilian riding next to him, he armor nearly blinding him. Her mace was at her hip as always, but she also wore a large sword across her back, the black pommel reaching over her left shoulder. Glancing at the blade, Markus sat back up in the saddle, adjusting the red collar of his shirt. "You going to try and participate in the tourny?" The smile vanished from her face at his question, and she turned her head away, looking at the woods. "You know I am not a knight, and incase you weren't aware, I am a woman." Shaking her head, she lets out a sigh before continuing. " And I have no interest in jousts or duels. They just serve to build up the egos of the knights and warriors who fight in them."





Nodding, their attention was drawn suddenly to sound of startled voices towards the front of the caravan. Smiling once more, Lilian kicked her mount forward, riding down the length of the convoy, until she rounded the bend in the road ahead. Kicking after her, Markus looked in awe at the place they had been talking about for months.





"Hello Casterly Rock..."

 

[Mion]

Caydens gaze fell on his brother, hearing Daeron jest causing Cayden to force a smile for him even if his body still felt like a truck ran over him. Trevir had gotten his vengeance it seemed as he was having the attack. "Not that he could have known what was happening." He thought to himself. He had only vague memories of their fight, the ringing of steel on steel for some time before darkness. He tried sitting up but a sudden shortness of breath sent him right back down panting trying to catch his breath. The attacked had passed but he still felt as if a weight was pushing down on his chest. "Not to bad, though it seemed like it at first. Almost thought I was gonna see father again, maybe I started to go up and he kicked me back down?" He said with a grin sense of humor as his eyes starred up at the ceiling, atypical of the Cayden he once knew who would have woke up laughing but also eeriely familiar. Cayden is silent for awhile, his joke reminding him of his father and what he was doing the day he died causing him to pause, as if he didn't know what to say before continuing on. "Did you know..." he said, his voice a whisper in the dark room, "That I didn't know father was dead till almost three weeks after he died?" He said, the confession heavy on his tongue.
"Letters rarely reach the field and my group rarely makes out position known unless we stop in cities so when the letter finally reached me in the disputed lands, father was already buried." He said, continuing on his voice solemn and somewhat weak. "People like to say if someone close to you, someone you love, dies~ that you feel it. There's an ill humor in the air, or some omen tells you something is wrong, that their gone... But there was nothing, there was nothing at all. All that happened that day for me was a skirmish with the Second Sons where I personally put 10 men in the ground during that battle to claim an insignficant hill that I later gave back to them in order to take a different plain better suited for my horses from the Company of Cats. Another day in the trade of killing." He could remember that day, the screams of horses and the dying screams of men and the smell of those dying emptying their bowls, something he had somehow grown used to. He glanced at Daeron, prepared for the peaceful boys judgement but he could not stop the words flowing from his mouth, as if a possible near death experience made him want to tell someone, anyone, about what he was doing on the day his father died, before and since.


He slowly raised his hand to stare at them, seeing the callouses cultivated of years of practice, the scars, and the blood he could almost see slipping through his fingers. "I've killed hundreds of people.. I tried to keep track, one apon a time... But I lost track a long time ago. I lead a mercenary company, served in one even before that after I left the house of Black and White. I've killed hundreds of people, and have ordered the deaths of thousands more, both friend and foe alike. And every life had a price." He said closing his eyes for a moment. "I'm not like you Daeron, my hands are no good at making something beautiful like your paintings or clever enough to be a craftsman or write beautiful poetry. The only thing these hands are good for is killing, and even when I try to escape it, war finds me." He said placing his elbows on the table and sitting up using them as props. "I'm not scared of death anymore, not for myself. I don't care if I die." He said his voice carrying a note of dark finality. "But if was is coming here I have a duty to protect you, to protect my family. I will see house Martell through this war, whatever the cost, or die trying." He said, turning on the bed so he could sit up straight and looking at Daeron and Nyalla as if gaging their reactions. "I'm gonna go enjoy the wedding, etheir of you would like to come?" Cayden asked simply as he moved to stand up, fighting his earlier weakness.


@SirDerpingtonIV @Lancelot

Casterly Rock


POV: Daeron Nymeros Martell


It appeared that Cayden was still struggling with his injuries, unclear to how much damage it had actually done to him it left Daeron in a worried state for his brother. Yet he seemed to smile despite this and even offered a jest at his own expense... and fathers, in Daerons mind it was in ill taste, he himself had not yet come to terms with his parents death and he may never will. But Daeron did recognise that it was supposed to be in good will, he did not mean any harm by it yet, Daeron found that his heart sunk whenever his father was brought up. As Cayden began his confession, initially Daeron didn't feel anything Three weeks huh? We knew he was gone some time before he passed, you are lucky brother... despite his own feelings, externally he made a conscious effort to show sympathy towards Cayden because he knew how he was feeling. Daeron listened to his confession, intently, it made him wish that Cayden had never left Sunspear all of those years ago. Death hasn't been following you Cayden, it is you that has been chasing the Stranger all these years, and you are blind to it.





As Cayden rose from his bed Daeron walked over towards Cayden with open arms, once he reached them he moved to hug him, not only to embrace his brother but to show that he still cared for him. "We Martells need to stick together... Yes, I will come and experience the wedding with you, but you need to promise me you will come back to Sunspear with us, experience the water gardens again brother, the desert, the food and the people. It is still as beautiful as ever and if peace is what you need? Then I promise you Dorne is your answer... Home."


@Akio

 

[Akio]

Casterly Rock
POV: Daeron Nymeros Martell


It appeared that Cayden was still struggling with his injuries, unclear to how much damage it had actually done to him it left Daeron in a worried state for his brother. Yet he seemed to smile despite this and even offered a jest at his own expense... and fathers, in Daerons mind it was in ill taste, he himself had not yet come to terms with his parents death and he may never will. But Daeron did recognise that it was supposed to be in good will, he did not mean any harm by it yet, Daeron found that his heart sunk whenever his father was brought up. As Cayden began his confession, initially Daeron didn't feel anything Three weeks huh? We knew he was gone some time before he passed, you are lucky brother... despite his own feelings, externally he made a conscious effort to show sympathy towards Cayden because he knew how he was feeling. Daeron listened to his confession, intently, it made him wish that Cayden had never left Sunspear all of those years ago. Death hasn't been following you Cayden, it is you that has been chasing the Stranger all these years, and you are blind to it.


As Cayden rose from his bed Daeron walked over towards Cayden with open arms, once he reached them he moved to hug him, not only to embrace his brother but to show that he still cared for him. "We Martells need to stick together... Yes, I will come and experience the wedding with you, but you need to promise me you will come back to Sunspear with us, experience the water gardens again brother, the desert, the food and the people. It is still as beautiful as ever and if peace is what you need? Then I promise you Dorne is your answer... Home."


@Akio

Cayden smiled and put one arm around his brother to hug him back, though he couldn't quite put the same strength in it as before due to his weakened body. "I'll certainly come back with you to Sunspear brother, I have missed home." He said with a scant bit of wistfulness, he certainly missed the Sands of Dorne but could he really return so easily, his argument with his sister would not be easily passed over and no matter what happened he couldn't forget about Daenna. "She will not give up this war so easily, nor could i leave her to die." He thought to himself. He still needed write the letter to warn Daenna of the dangers of allying with the Ibbens, but that was a task for another day. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy himself.


Ruffling his brothers hair and stepping back he grinned. "Well I'm gonna go enjoy the party and since you decided to accompany me, we must naturally find you some girls to talk to. Staying locked up in the water gardens all day isn't all that engaging and your already past the age. You ever have your first girl yet?" He asked as he started walking away so Daeron and perhaps Nyalla would follow him as he made intentional effort to ignore his earlier pain.


Striding with a certain degree of confidence he made his way back to the tournament grounds, ignoring any stares thrown his way or disbelieving glances after his earlier bout of asthma struck him being seemingly now in perfect condition.


Cayden started making his way to the jousting grounds, he didn't think he was out long so he should still have time to sign up. He had to admit that the Lance was not his weapon even if he used a pole weapon but his horsemanship had carried him fairly far in some tournaments though how far he got in one like this would probably have to do with a degree of luck as well as skill. Luck often has as much to do as skill in a joust sometimes he found. "I'll need to find a suit of armor, hopefully one that won't throw off my aim to badly. I want to compete in the joust." He said, seemingly giving little concern to his previous injuries, it shouldnt affect him to much on a horse. He made to where he believed the jousting ground was and with a few questions to some passing knights and squire's he got pointed in the right direction. He continued to make his way to the jousting grounds till he got to the crowded protection of knights. He took a glance at the trials and they seemed fairly ordinary. "Some things never change." He said looking out at the trials before realizing he was missing one essential thing, his horse. "Shit, I forgot Shadowfire's still tied up!" He said sighing in frustration, that was twice his decision to tie up his horse away from the Rock had worked against him. Hopefully things wouldn't end soon so he had time, worse comes to worse he could probably borrow one with his position.


Walking over to one of younger servants hanging around the area he explained the situation and offered him some gold to bring his horse here. "Just be sure to use the phrase, 'Shadows Blossom in Fire' when you meet him exactly as I said it to you so he doesn't fight you. He can be quite stubborn if you don't say it. And offering an apple won't hurt etheir." Cayden said smiling, his horse would likely appreciate the reward after grazing. Even after he tamed him his horse remained fairly high spirited, especially with strangers and more then once had thrown off someone attempting to ride it without permission or that it didn't know so he taught the animal a few verbal cues which proved useful more then once, though he was fairly certain it responded more to the pitch and tone then the words itself though sometimes he amused himself pretending he understood those words. Perhaps only himself and Daenna would not need to say anything when approaching him though he usually said the code word regardless as to not confuse him. Sending the squire off he turned to look at the stands. These were just the trials so there were mostly knights and squire's scoping out competition along with a few scattered nobles. However his eyes fell on three beautiful woman sitting together with the grace of higher nobles and so similar they were likely related. Looking back at Daeron he grinned. "While I wait for that I'm gonna converse a little bit. Feel free to come along." Climbing the stairs two at a time for a moment he got on the same level as the girls, striding towards them, smiling his usual wide, white smile apon his handsome face as he approached them. "Good afternoon my ladies, enjoy the spectacle?" He questioned, stopping a comfortable distance away from them so they would hopefully not feel threatened by him as he regarded them with his bright blue eyes.


@Lancelot


@SirDerpingtonIV (assuming Nyalla came with)


@Hypnos

 

[Hypnos]

Agnes Tully

Tourney Grounds, Casterly Rock, The Westerlands.​

Watching as Ser Titus smashed his lance into the chest of the wooden mannequin that stood before him, carved in such a way as to resemble one of the Knights that he would be soon to face during the real competition, Agnes applauded politely, her mind far away, preoccupied with different, more disturbing matters. She was enjoying her time within the great halls of Casterly Rock, and the celebration of union between her cousin and the one she loved, though she could not help but turn her mind to what awaited her back at her husbands home of Horn Hill. Her disappearance was sure to be noticed by now and she doubted very much that Lord Helyon Tarly would take her absence lightly, she just hopped that Rowan would not be punished on her behalf or the elderly maester who had been so kind to her.


Mayhaps the whole thing was a horrible mistake, she though glumly, especially with the growing tension between her family. Her father could be rowdy at times but she loved him, and her grandmother had a reputation for dealing particularly harsh punishments, even amongst family. Her father would not get off lightly, though hopefully, whatever happened to him, it would not widen the rift that had been gradually forming between the members of the Tully household without the calming presence of her grandfather. Walder Tully was an old man, but he had always seemed so strong, and imagining him on his death bed was almost enough to bring a tear to Agnes' eye, though she did not weep, she would not weep.


By the time Agnes looked up again Titus had already made it past the other mannequins and onto the quintain and she could see the ghost of a laugh emitting from his lips. He was a trained knight; no stranger to the lance and like his ancestors before him, it was often said that the Bracken was more comfortable upon horseback than he was his own two feet. Despite the outward appearance however, Agnes couldn't help but notice that he was did not seem to be displaying as much skill as she had previously seen from him and his lance always strayed a little to far to the left, though it still met its target. Titus Bracken had been like an elder brother to the Tully growing up, especially since she had none of her own, and it was reassuring to see him so confident despite the circumstances.


She yawned, raising her hand to cover her mouth, the number of knights present had increased more than tenfold since the Tullys had initially arrived and she was starting to see some faces that she recognised entering the lists, including many from the Riverlands, such as her second cousin Ned Mooton who was serving as a squire for some Westerlands knight and the knight of Pinkmaiden, Walter Piper, heralded as the maiden's bane for his dashing good looks and vulgar nature. Noticeably absent from the line up however was Ser Eustace of Darry, and his squire the Mallister boy, Agnes has not seen him since the arrival of Queen Kuvira a day prior and she wondered what it was that would make the elderly knight miss a chance to impress in the lists. Agnes nodded at a few lords and waved at some others, though for the most part she let them get along with their own business, she was not in the mood for courtesy and socialising, even amongst her kin, and she was content to watch them go past in silence.


Blocking out the others for a time, Agnes once again fixed her gaze upon her cousin, who had completed his own trials with the rings and was now offering advice to Otho on how to correctly wield a lance. He was hardly a boy anymore but Otho Tully had no real experience in tourneys and he seemed to be taking in his uncles advice with much interest.


"Good afternoon my ladies, enjoying the spectacle" A voice called to the Tully's left and Agnes' head turned slightly, away from the tourney grounds and onto the face of the speaker. He was a tanned man, of Dornish stock, whom she vaguely recognised as the Matrell Prince who had revealed himself in the melee the day before, though she could not recall his name. The Dornish were foreign to her, and she could recall tales her grandfather had told her as a little girl about the vile raiders who would come north looking for blood and would steal the wives of honest hard working men, though she pushed such thoughts from her mind, she was too old to put much faith in children's stories, and her grandfather was far away now.


"It is proving to be a wonderful showing my Lord" Gwenys spoke up sweetly, Agnes reigning herself to silence. She had little to say to the man and it was clear to her that he only dared talk to them so as to get in the good graces of House Tully and the Riverlands, likely coming with some proposal, or proposition. "I'm sorry but I do not think we have had the pleasure of meeting" Agnes could hear Melissa begin snickering under her breath, and she let out a sigh, trying not to look as glum as she felt.


@Akio @Lancelot

 

[Akio]

Agnes Tully

Tourney Grounds, Casterly Rock, The Westerlands.​

Watching as Ser Titus smashed his lance into the chest of the wooden mannequin that stood before him, carved in such a way as to resemble one of the Knights that he would be soon to face during the real competition, Agnes applauded politely, her mind far away, preoccupied with different, more disturbing matters. She was enjoying her time within the great halls of Casterly Rock, and the celebration of union between her cousin and the one she loved, though she could not help but turn her mind to what awaited her back at her husbands home of Horn Hill. Her disappearance was sure to be noticed by now and she doubted very much that Lord Helyon Tarly would take her absence lightly, she just hopped that Rowan would not be punished on her behalf or the elderly maester who had been so kind to her.


Mayhaps the whole thing was a horrible mistake, she though glumly, especially with the growing tension between her family. Her father could be rowdy at times but she loved him, and her grandmother had a reputation for dealing particularly harsh punishments, even amongst family. Her father would not get off lightly, though hopefully, whatever happened to him, it would not widen the rift that had been gradually forming between the members of the Tully household without the calming presence of her grandfather. Walder Tully was an old man, but he had always seemed so strong, and imagining him on his death bed was almost enough to bring a tear to Agnes' eye, though she did not weep, she would not weep.


By the time Agnes looked up again Titus had already made it past the other mannequins and onto the quintain and she could see the ghost of a laugh emitting from his lips. He was a trained knight; no stranger to the lance and like his ancestors before him, it was often said that the Bracken was more comfortable upon horseback than he was his own two feet. Despite the outward appearance however, Agnes couldn't help but notice that he was did not seem to be displaying as much skill as she had previously seen from him and his lance always strayed a little to far to the left, though it still met its target. Titus Bracken had been like an elder brother to the Tully growing up, especially since she had none of her own, and it was reassuring to see him so confident despite the circumstances.


She yawned, raising her hand to cover her mouth, the number of knights present had increased more than tenfold since the Tullys had initially arrived and she was starting to see some faces that she recognised entering the lists, including many from the Riverlands, such as her second cousin Ned Mooton who was serving as a squire for some Westerlands knight and the knight of Pinkmaiden, Walter Piper, heralded as the maiden's bane for his dashing good looks and vulgar nature. Noticeably absent from the line up however was Ser Eustace of Darry, and his squire the Mallister boy, Agnes has not seen him since the arrival of Queen Kuvira a day prior and she wondered what it was that would make the elderly knight miss a chance to impress in the lists. Agnes nodded at a few lords and waved at some others, though for the most part she let them get along with their own business, she was not in the mood for courtesy and socialising, even amongst her kin, and she was content to watch them go past in silence.


Blocking out the others for a time, Agnes once again fixed her gaze upon her cousin, who had completed his own trials with the rings and was now offering advice to Otho on how to correctly wield a lance. He was hardly a boy anymore but Otho Tully had no real experience in tourneys and he seemed to be taking in his uncles advice with much interest.


"Good afternoon my ladies, enjoying the spectacle" A voice called to the Tully's left and Agnes' head turned slightly, away from the tourney grounds and onto the face of the speaker. He was a tanned man, of Dornish stock, whom she vaguely recognised as the Matrell Prince who had revealed himself in the melee the day before, though she could not recall his name. The Dornish were foreign to her, and she could recall tales her grandfather had told her as a little girl about the vile raiders who would come north looking for blood and would steal the wives of honest hard working men, though she pushed such thoughts from her mind, she was too old to put much faith in children's stories, and her grandfather was far away now.


"It is proving to be a wonderful showing my Lord" Gwenys spoke up sweetly, Agnes reigning herself to silence. She had little to say to the man and it was clear to her that he only dared talk to them so as to get in the good graces of House Tully and the Riverlands, likely coming with some proposal, or proposition. "I'm sorry but I do not think we have had the pleasure of meeting" Agnes could hear Melissa begin snickering under her breath, and she let out a sigh, trying not to look as glum as she felt.


@Akio @Lancelot

Cayden smile widened a fraction, genuinely pleased with their reply. They seemed to be of the sweet, well mannered sort but without the hidden edge of Celena Lannister, unless they simply hid it better. They were were obviously born and raised noble but being gone for so long he naturally didn't recognize them though if he put some thought into hazarding a guess he might have arrived at the proper answer, but for the moment he ignored the problem of what royal family he may accidently offend in return for some pleasant conversation. They seemed sweet and kind and would likely not give his brother to hard a time to talk to though one of them seemed a bit glum. Perhaps he could work a smile out of her before Shadowfire got here.


"Forgive my mistake my ladies for not introducing myself sooner. I am Cayden Martell and this is my brother Daeron." He said guestering at his brother, not wanting to overshadow him completely given part of the point in approaching them was for Daerons sake. "You may simply call me by my name for right now, I am no Lord, on this field I'm nothing more then another contestant, begging for the pleasure of hearing your names." He said with a charming smile, eyes flickering between them with an pause so none of them would feel ignored as he spoke to all of them directly. Once introductions were done he could find out what was troubling the one on the left while his brother entertained the other two, he had always been a fair speaker even as a child so he could stop them from getting bored.


@Hypnos


@Lancelot

 

[ACHA]

Ser Albert and Ser Wilhelm Lannister


Lions of Lannisport



​

Albert was given permission to join the jousting tournament. The Queen was adamant about a little show of prowess. She would've had Ser Gale do this, but he was way far into his years. While the Queen had expectations of Albert, this was more or less her checking what he was capable of. Albert felt obliged to do so.


Being covered in the Queensguard's white while participating in the joust felt somewhat wrong. He felt that this would give him an unfair advantage as his opponents might either be intimidated or go easy on him. Instead, he opted to use the black and red armor he donned during his service as a lowly knight for House Targaryen. He walked to where the registration for the joust tourney was going on. Albert was in the middle of finalizing his entry.


"Ah, the gods do have a wicked sense of humor if you're the first person I see after getting here." said the familiar voice.


Albert turned to where the voice came from to see a man or reasonable stature approaching him. His blonde hair and green eyes were similar to his.


"Funny..." Albert paused for a while, looking the man in the eye before cracking his signature grin. "I thought a sense of humor was a foreign concept to you, brother."


Wilhelm was finally close enough for them to speak face to face. Unlike his earlier reunion with his sister, this one displeased Albert, though he tried not to openly show it.


"You always looked good in red and black, little brother. A shame that they aren't the Lannister's shade." said Wilhelm as he observed the armor Albert had on. "Though I've heard you've been sporting a new color... white." he continued. His expression slowly shifted into that of slight disgust. "How did a coward like you end up in the Kingsguard?" he asked.


"If I remember correctly Wilhelm, I was the one who led from the front, and not someone giving orders from the rear." Albert responded.


"Just as a responsible commander should be doing, little brother. Not questioning the orders of his superiors." Wilhelm quickly retorted.


Albert was silent for a moment, as he tried to recompose himself, holding back his urge to punch the man in front of him. He loved the man, but there were moments that he was unbearable. For the love of the same woman who bore them to this earth, Albert kept his feelings in check.


"So Wilhelm, will you be joining the joust?" he asked. "It'd be like old times. You, flat on the ground, while I bask in my victory."


Wilhelm's brows furrowed with his annoyance before his expression relaxed again. "While I'd like to see to it personally that you fail, I have responsibilities. Something that is a foreign concept to you. So if you'll excuse me, I have to go." he just walked away and left, pretty much in the same manner that he arrived.


There was a sadness in Albert's eyes as he looked at his brother leave. There was a time when he admired his brother as a man. Albert wondered if there was some of that man left in him.


Albert had already arrived at the lists where he needed to pass a few tests before he was able to participate in the tourney. He looked at all the other riders that were intent on joining. Many of them were riverlanders and westermen. He recognized a few.


The trials were easy for Albert. He was doing this for a long time, starting from a very young age. When it was his time at the dummies, he did quite spectacularly, meriting a few looks of concern from his competitors. His time with the quintain was just as short. When he nailed the target on his first try, the whispering and chatters started to grow louder, probably making the others nervous.


Albert was waiting for his turn at the rings when he took some time to relax. He removed his helmet and took another look around at the people who were present. He didn't expect anyone but the Westermen to recognize who he was. He saw a knight bearing the sigil of House Bracken. In all likelihood, it could have been Ser Titus. Albert had hoped that someone formidable joined the jousting tourney. With his cousin Martyn not joining, and the famous Ser Roland Wilds possibly not participating because of his involvement in the bracket melee, the competition looked a bit stale. Hopefully, the talk surrounding Ser Titus had some truth in them.


He turned his horse around to look at the stands. From the far distance, he could see the Martell Prince, distinguished by his obvious Dornish features. Tanned skin, black hair, and that obvious air of self-confidence that probably bordered on conceit. If he participated in the joust, maybe things would be more interesting as well. Alas, it seemed he was busy too.


Under a much more closer watch, he noticed that the dornish prince was trying to strike up a conversation with the three Tully maidens he met briefly the night before. While he was positive it was them, he wasn't sure if they'd be able to spot him. There was probably only one way to get their attention.


His turn at the rings finally came. Without pause, Albert rode swiftly towards the ring, lance forward. It moved about as it dangled from a rope. It would've proved difficult for those without his skill to be able to hit it. Albert did it, in a single try.


The people were busy as they were watching the bracket melee. The stands were filled with people. In a particular area however, it was filled more with Wilhelm's relatives. Wilhelm waded through the crowd, nodding at those that greeted him. He was sure that at the end of this, he'd be able to see his lord cousin. He wasn't wrong. He found him there among their other relatives, watching the fight, with his father Edwyn sitting near him.


"Cousin! Father! Apologies for my tardiness. My wife was sick, and I had to go back to see to her." he explained as he bowed his head.


@Hypnos


@Akio


@WanderingJester