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

[Hypnos]

Baelor Velaryon

The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands
​

Tulips, daffodils, roses: The gardens of King's Landing were always such beautiful places, though non more so than the Eden that adjoined the Queen's quarters in the Red Keep, a veritable palette of colours and aromas and a favourite haunt of Lord Baelor Velaryon, one where he was prone to visit in the throws of wakefulness and a place that never failed to put at ease his ever working mind, bringing peace and serenity to the elderly lord's chaotic and somewhat convoluted thoughts, allowing him to worry not about the current turmoil that plagued the Seven Kingdoms. This particular visit however, shared little similarities with its predecessors in the way of quiet contemplation, though not for lack of trying, silence swarming Lord Baelor like a hive of insects, yet the Lord of Tides was unable to shake the constant feeling of stress that ever clinged to his back, prematurely greying his white gold hair, and giving him the physique of a much older man, souring the old man like a prune.


"My Lord Velaryon!" It seemed that his attempts at clearing his mind were all for naught, for approaching the Lord of Tides was a boy, small in stature and young in age, a face as plain as parchment. He was the Master of Ship's man but not in the traditional sense, he served him not in the way of errands, nor did he fight for him in the wars that ever seemed to follow Westeros, in fact the boy had never even seen the castle High Tide, the Velaryon's ancestral seat and had lived his entire life within the confines of King's Landing, whiling away his days in the dark passages of Maegor's Holdfast. No, this boy dealt in something different entirely, a subject that ever fascinated Lord Baelor Velaryon, this boy dealt in whispers.


"Boy! What have I told you about visiting me here?" Baelor replied in a tone as sharp as Valyrian Steel, his displeasure made plain by the daggers that shot from his violet eyes, though the expression on his face did not change "If you were to get caught, why that fool Vladan would have me hanged, he already distrusts me, as does the Master of Whispers, and it would not do well to make such an impression on our new Hand Gelgin Arryn could yet play and important part in the war to come"


The boy was now only a few feet away from him, slinking in the shadows behind a particularly large bush, remaining unseen to any passers by "There is no one here but you and myself, I made sure of that, I come baring news from across the realm" Baelor raised a single silver eyebrow, clearly not interested in waiting "During the night of the meeting of Lords, a ship disappeared from harbour, baring the sigil of House Mooton of Maidenpool, a ship signed into the docks under the name of Eddard Bracken, this same ship was sighted not a day later by your own son Ser Aenys docking on the shores of Dragonstone, reportedly carrying Lord Walder of the Trident"


"I see" Baelor frowned slightly, thinking "I suspected that the old trout would not be so eager to abandon the stags, though I had heard tell the man had fallen ill at Harrenhal, it seems that his family have no qualms with lying to a representative to the crown"


"Aye" The boy nodded "But that isn't all, Ser Aenys stated that after only a few hours in harbour the ship left for a new destination, followed by the personal ship of Rory Baratheon, a ship that was not seen again until it arrived in Shipbreaker Bay, the Stormlands, according to Luke the Stags mean to ally themselves, with Rory adding his fleet to Breadon's already sizeable forces"


"Common knowledge" Baelor sighed "Though interesting nonetheless. The captains are still under my payroll correct?" The boy nodded "Have Longwaters double their pay, I want them to build up a demand for the finer things in life, give them what that fool Rory can't provide: jewels, riches, make sure only the prettiest whores find their way into the captains beds, what of Aegor and Orys? Is there any news from the west or beyond the Narrow Sea?"


"Aegor reports nothing new, the West continues to build up its fleet and has already hired a substantial number of free companies" He handed Lord Baelor a small piece of parchment listing the names of several important companies "Lord Tiber has yet to declare sides in the upcoming war, and there is a chance he may prefer neutrality, though that may change with his upcoming wedding"


"Aye, it would be wise to be in attendance" Baelor replied "The West commands the second biggest army in Westeros, it would be nice to have their swords"


"Orys has been silent in recent weeks, though that is to be expected he and the Golden Company are preparing for war, or so we can assume since Viserys Waters has called himself king"


"Any news of the stag girl? Surely the goldcloaks have dug something up by now"


The boy merely frowned, biting his lip "There is something" he said at last "Corlys reports that the disappearance of the stag coincides with the robbery of several horses in the city, it's not much but it is something, the robberies have been linked to the knight of Fang Tower, a Clegane of the Westerlands, and that source is being followed up as we speak"


Baelor was silent for a moment "Good, good" he said at last "Well you have given me a lot to think upon, have you got anything else or does this conclude our meeting"


"Just one more thing, Ibbenese emissaries have been seen in the capital talking to Queen Kuvira, I am unsure of their purpose but it is strange that men from Ibb would travel so far from home"


"Strange indeed" Baelor stood, dusting off his doublet as he did so "Thank you for your services, you shall find your payment in its usual location, in the correct amounts" the boy hurried off, eager to collect the coin that was promised him, the boy is getting greedy, Baelor thought to himself, mayhaps it is time that he be replaced. The Lord of Tides was interrupted from his thoughts however by the sudden arrival of a new figure into the gardens, the red and black adorning her garb giving her away as Queen Kuvira Targaryen, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.


"Your grace" Baelor bowed, offering her the utmost courtesy, it would not do him well to upset the Queen and he knew from experience that her ego was very delicate "What brings you to the gardens at this hour?"

Rhaenyra Velaryon


The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands
​

Rhaenyra Velaryon was a pretty young thing, her white gold hair and violet eyes marking her out as a descendent of old Valyria, a rare sight in Westeros nowadays especially outside of the houses of the finest whores in the realm, making her a great addition to the so called flight squadron of Queen Kuvira I. A curious assortment of highborn ladies, named after the flying dragons of the Targayrens of old, that were oft tasked with gathering information for the queen no matter what the cost may be, even going to far as to offer certain pleasures to those whom they were to interrogate, pleasures not befitting women of such high birth. Despite this however, it was seen as a privilege to be amongst them, especially by the masses, as those that we in this squadron were given certain rewards for their services, not least the friendship of the currently most powerful woman in Westeros and often found themselves surrounded in wealth, married off to very rich Lords.


This particular evening was no different from the norm, and the Queen had tasked her squadron with gathering information of high importance from the emissaries sent from the island of Ibb, a queer place full of queer people that resembled more beasts than men, though Rhaenyra was not one to turn down an order from the Queen, even if that order involved doing something she really didn't want to do.


"Gentlemen" she approached with a bow, offering them all the courtesy she would a powerful lord, despite the fact that these men didn't look the part "I am afraid something has come up and the Queen is currently occupied, she has sent us in her stead to entertain you until she can find see you herself"

 

[Darth Gangsta]

Yakone Dulak


The war horn was sounded. It was time for war, Yakone finished sharpening his axe blade and put the axe on his side. They had less numbers, and the Fair Isles had a lot better weapons and armor. But they had to make do with what they had.


By now, the army of Fair Isles started firing. The ships made it to the shore, "CHARGE!!!" Yakone roared as he charged, he was excepting a shield wall to be formed so he ran as fast as he could so he could be as powerful as possible.

@Leusis
​

 

[Leusis]

Roland could hear the commands of the captain among the men-at-arms that he had stationed on the other side of the hill being shouted loudly. "Nock, draw, loose!" were the words that came from the older man as the bandits on their boats came within range of their longbows. On the recieving end it was much more grim for the bandits, the arrows were inaccurate at best but the bandits were like fish in a barrel as they sat on their boats. Every now and then Yakone could likely hear the whistle of an arrow gliding through the air past him. Sometimes striking a man standing behind him and sometimes the thud of an arrow digging its way into a mans shield. Few if any of the bandits were actually dead by the time their boats reached the shore, but at least a dozen of them were injured badly enough to be considered incapable of combat, possibly less.


It was the moment that Yakone jumped from his ship and his men followed that the acrhers turned and began running up the hill. It was easy for them to make distance and reach the peak as they were weighed down by only cloth armor and their bows. Reaching the crest of the hill the archers quickly began running to the side as the 300 knights began rushing up the hill. Rounding the top in mere seconds the knights tilted their lances for the charge and began barreling down the hill towards the bandits that chased the archers. The knights in a line 100 men wide and 3 horses deep made contact with the bandits, surprisingly not a single man fleeing as they knew if they ran they would only be ridden down and they only had the sea to flee to. So instead of fleeing the kinghts charge they braced themselves as best they could in the moments before.


Roland himself jerked back as his lance made contact with a young mans skull, his brains splattering onto the man next to him as his face caved in and the girth of the lance shattered his skull as Roland's steed trampled over another of the bandits, likely breaking many bones in his body. The sound of the knights impacting the bandit line was thunderous as steel began to clash and screams of anguish escaped the lips of dying men. But as one might expect the fight seemed to be heavily on sided at the onset, the charge of the heavy horse having done serious damage to the bandits numbers. Not only that but the knights were better equipped and likely of a higher skill than the bandits. However here and there Roland could spot knights being dragged from their horses as the bandits fought for their lives. Roland himself tossed his now broken lance to the ground, unsheathing his sword before thrusting its tip into a mans throat, sending him flailing to the ground as he tried to cover the wound with his hands. It was a bloody sight but one he had come to terms with long ago, he was a painter that only used red and that's all he ever had been.


@Darth Gangsta

 

[WanderingJester]

Southshield, The Shield Islands, the Reach.





Grit Goodbrother slammed his one handed axe down on the fallen knight's helmet, cutting deep into it and killing the injured man. He then went through the body of the corpse, seeing as the immediate battle around him was over, and the fact that he had paid the Iron Price for his goods. Grabbing a well forged dagger from the body as well as a few stags from the pockets, the Ironborn looked up to see the defenders rallying deeper inland on the island. He grinned, baring his chipped and sharp teeth. The assault on this island had gone better than most of the others, with the defenders meeting the attacking Ironborns on the beaches rather than behind their walls. As usual, Grit let the others go first to die, following up behind to axe the distracted defenders one by one in the back or the sides, often as they're either already fighting or killing one of his shipmates. It wasn't that Grit couldn't hold his own in a fight, in fact he could do pretty well facing off another in battle, but there's a reason that while Grit didn't have the most salt wives or loot, he did live through more raids than anyone else from Great Wyke.


Grit figured that if the Drowned God had the sense of humor to make him the second youngest in a family of four sons, a family that's the smallest and least powerful branch of a much larger family, the deity could at least keep him alive long enough to outlive his brothers and inherit the house to himself. So he endured the jeers and jabs and punches and kicks that came from fighting and raiding under his older brother, Groof, who like any well raised Ironborn likes to sprint into the mix of things before any of his shipmates could even get off the long ship. Many a times Grit cursed to himself when Groof returned, injured from battle but alive. Unlike those other times though, this attack on the Shield Islands was different. The chances of Groof dying this time was much larger, and Grit was now in position to take control of his brother's ship, the Riptide.





Looking back to the defenders, Grit could already see his fool of a brother leading another charge against them, screaming and swinging his weapon over his head in a manner that would make any rock wife proud. Then, the feeling came. The same one that Grit had before he first got tossed overboard a long ship and nearly drowned (again, since he did drown during the usual ritual to the Drowned God). The same one that Grit had when he alone survived the attack by that massive man wearing lion shaped armor during a raid in the Westerlands, because Groof had the brilliant idea of raiding the Westerland Coasts while they were still "weak from their petty war." The same one that Grit had when King Conn announced the attack on the Shield Islands. The young Goodbrother looked and in the distance was the Redwyne Fleet, sailing closer and closer.


Turning, Grit grabbed the nearest Ironborn and shouted. "Back to the ships! Now!" The Ironborn ignored him and shrugged off his hand, before moving to join the fray ahead. One of his shipmates laughed at him.


"Ah shut it Grit, ya fucking craven. Why don't you go back to Great Wyk? Make yourself a good rock wife for some poor sod?"


Grit ignored him. "ANYONE THAT WANTS TO RAID AND FUCK AGAIN ANOTHER DAY, BACK TO THE FUCKING SHIPS. NOW!" His tone and volume finally got some of his comrade's attention, and the shipmate stopped laughing surprised.


"Now wait just a min-" Grit was already gone, sprinting as fast as he could back to the Riptide. Those with the intelligence to look up beyond the immediate loot and battle figured out what was going on and followed as quickly as they could after the Goodbrother, which meant that the majority of the landing force ignored the man and continued looting and fighting. Grit finally made it back on to the ship, where one of the men who had been assigned the piss poor duty of watching the ship looked up lazily at him, apparently waking from a nap.


"W-what?"


"No time! Get rowing and release the sails, we're leaving!" Grit began untying the ropes to unbind the sails above, while the shipmate scowled.


"This ain't your ship boy and you ain't Groof, so you can just piss off with your orderin', cause you ain't no capt-" Grit turned around and buried his axe head into the man's face, before ripping it out and kicking it overboard. He glared at the rest of the crew on board, both the ones that had been left behind and the ones that had joined him in his flight; all were shocked.


"My brother's dead, I'm the captain now." Or he will be soon enough. "Move your asses!" The crew, stunned before, snapped out of their reverie, and began hustling around the ship, getting on oars to row off shore, steering, doing everything they could to cast off. Out of the ten ships that've landed so far, only three had the sense to pull out before the Redwyne Fleet gets here. The Riptide sailed out to rejoin the main Iron Fleet, which even then turned and began heading back to the Iron Islands, knowing that the losses were acceptable, even equaled to that of a failed medium raid. A hour later Grit got a message from Wulfgar Sparr, the new commander who had assumed command of the Iron Fleet with Conn's disappearance. It seemed their fearless leader had wet himself like a newborn with the first taste of battle and fled. The Iron Fleet was to return home, and await the results of the kingsmoot, and the orders of the new king. One thing was for sure though: they will return, and they will take Shield Islands and everything on them, after they pay the Iron Price.


__________________


The coast near the Shield Islands, The Reach, Westeros.





Rowan watched as his father kicked one of the decapitated heads of the Ironborn into the sea, as well as the contempt on the Lord of Horn Hill's face. They had ride nonstop for two days straight, coming to one of the Mander Forks near Goldengrove, where their horses dropped dead. Luckily, they had just caught up with Lord Roth Rowan, one of the closest ally and friend of House Tarly. Together, they continued south with most haste and finally made contact with the Tarly host, 3000 strong. After another day they've finally reached the coast, only to see much of the battle was already over. The Iron Cravens had turned tail and ran as soon as they saw the Redwyne fleet. While the quick and relatively bloodless victory should have been good news, Rowan could tell his father was beside himself, despite his composure.


When they had realized that they had arrived too late for the battle, one of the scouts reported of two long ships making emergency landings on a beach nearby. Rowan and Oswen followed their father and the combined Rowan/Tarly force, and the knights descended upon the tired and stranded Ironborns without mercy. Every man who fought back was slain, every single raider that tried to surrender executed, many by Lord Tarly himself. Helyon had charged into combat with the fury almost matching the Warrior; an amazing feat considering how tired Rowan felt himself, even with the adrenaline in his veins. The two sons knew their father had been upset by the events at Riverrun, and even more so when the opportunity to slay his enemies slipped through his fingers. When the final head rolled, Helyon kicked the head into the sea. Just as a scout ran up. "My lord!"


Helyon didn't look at him. "Report."


"No other enemies within this area. However Lord Redwyne rides this way with his delegation. He will be here shortly." While the news did hearten Helyon, none but those closest to him could tell.


"Show them here. It's been a while since I've seen Luthor face to face." The Lord of Horn Hill wiped Heartsbane off on the closest corpse, before sheathing it. The scout nodded before retreating off into the distance, and Roth Rowan walked up next to Helyon.


"It's been a while since we've all seen each other face to face."


Helyon nodded, "far too long." The sounds of hooves approached, and soon the horses with men of House Redwyne approached, led by Lord Luthor Redwyne. The Lord of the Arbor quickly dismounted and embraced Helyon, who hugged the other man back awkwardly. Releasing him, Luthor turned and did the same gesture to Roth, who was more graceful than Lord Tarly in return. Letting go, Luthor studied the men and the scene around them, before chuckling and shaking his head.


"Can't leave you alone for a moment without you making a mess, huh Helyon?" A rare small smile flashed on Rowan's father's face, who too shook his head.


"Ever the jester Luthor." While it's been known that Luthor enjoyed a dear friendship with Lord Hollis Tyrell, the men standing in front of Rowan now were brothers in all but blood. Even as young boys, Luthor Redwyne, Helyon Tarly, and Roth Rowan trained, lived and fought together throughout their squire years and even later as each of them turned from knights to lords. Though not widely known even within the Reach, the martial bonds that was forged between the trio in the fires of combat had endured joy and pain in equal. It was Roth Rowan who had been betrothed to Katleen Tarly before her disappearance, and the Rowan forces who arrived at Leafy Lake just as the Tarlys razed it to the ground. Even as tragedy struck House Tarly, the friendship lasted, with Roth naming one of his son after Luthor and a daughter Katleen, Luthor naming a son Helyon, and the Tarly heir Rowan Tarly being named after House Rowan as a whole.


Luthor turned to Helyon's sons. "Boys! I haven't seen you two since you could barely reach my shoulder!" He walked over and sized up Rowan and Oswen. Rowan gave a respectful smile while Oswen grinned. Both looked very tired. "By the Warrior your father should be damn proud of his stock! The Father himself could not have asked for two finer young men as his own."


"Thank you Uncle Luthor." "Thanks Uncle Lu." To Rowan, Oswen and the other Tarly children, they weren't Lord of Goldengrove and Lord of the Arbor; they were just Uncle Roth and Uncle Luthor.


Turning back to Helyon, Luthor's face fell. "Helyon, Hollis is dead." The mood quickly dampened over the crowd. Helyon's face turned stone like while Roth scowled. Rowan's eyes widened and he could almost hear his brother's jaw drop. Lord Tyrell was dead? At this time? A good amount of thought ran through his head. How? Was he murdered? Why? His father's voice broke though his confusion and shock.


"When?" Helyon asked bluntly.


"Not long ago. Collapsed on the way back from King's Landing. I'm riding for the funeral now." Helyon nodded before motioning to the men around. The troops began moving out, and Rowan went back to throw himself on to his horse. He could still feel nothing on his thighs due the numbness there, but knew he had to make himself presentable for the approach to Highgarden. Oswen moaned as he mounted, but for once had nothing smart to say. Helyon had already climbed aboard his horse and rode ahead with the other lords, though Rowan managed to catch the last lines.


"You think Hightower will be there?"


Rowan might have imagined it, but he could've sworn there was a distasteful scowl on Uncle Luthor's face that accompanied his barely veiled annoyed tone. "Probably, but by the Stranger I hope not."

 

[Veyd Sahvoz]

Hadar Stark


(The Black Wolf)



​

"Perhaps, but I am still the one that's taking you on this journey so you better show some respect." He declared followed by pretending to throw his dagger as part of the ongoing joke but he would never do such a thing. Not to his own brother at least. The whetstone made small sparks as he continued to sharpen his black daggers. The origin of them were unknown to him, all he did know was that they were a gift from a friend of his. All there was to do now was relax for a bit and wait.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tadhg Stark


Winterfell



​

A while after receiving the news from Lord Braedon and Tadhg was already gathering up a council with the men he had in Winterfell. This included his children, his wife, adviser and head of guard along with a few others. At the long table he waited until everyone was ready before he spoke. "I have troubling news. I have received a letter by Raven from Lord Braedon Baratheon of Storm's End. In the letter it stated that he has found evidence of the newly crowned Queen, Kuvira Targaryen, and Aerea Targaryen, to be bastard bastard born and that she holds no claim to the throne. But, Deanna Targaryen is apparently trueborn and heir to the throne. He has also informed me of Viserys Waters returning in an attempt to claim the throne. What he wants of us is to aid him in overthrowing them, which is why I have gathered you all here to come to an agreement on whether we shall take immediate action or wait." Announced Tadhg, glancing at everyone in the room to gain their attention. He knew all too well that the Starks preferred not to go to war but if this threatened the entire realm then they might not have a choice. The room stayed silent until Jasselin Stark (Tadhg's wife) broke out a small whisper "So this is why you didn't tell me sooner." She breathed, not nearly loud enough for her husband to hear. "I know we haven't had a war in a long time and I don't think any of you would want another but this is a friend and ally of ours." Insisted Tadhg as he waited for someone to speak. The head of his guard stood up, straight backed and helmet off "I say we help. It would be interesting to see how good they are in battle." A couple others agreed with him, standing before their Lord with loyalty and honor. A trait that mostly all Starks had which ceased to amaze some. Jasselin looked around at the men standing up in agreement, trying to decide whether she should go along with her husband. It was difficult to come to a conclusion. It was either stay in the North and prey to the gods' they would not be attacked or go straight to the fight and help their allies. "If it's for the betterment of the realm then I say we do it too." Tadhg jumped out of his seat and was followed by a loud holler from everyone in the entire room. It was decided. All they had left was one more thing to do. "Send word to the bannermen!" Shouted the Lord raising a mighty fist and joining in on the shouting.

To All Stark Bannermen

​

I call you to Winterfell to prepare for war. The reason for this, you ask, is to do with Lord Braedon Baratheon informing me of Viserys Waters returning to Westeros in an attempt to claim the throne. We will prepare to help House Baratheon as soon as possible.

From just outside the walls of Winterfell you could see the loads of Ravens flying off in every direction, each carrying a letter being sent to all the bannermen of House Stark.


(Mentioned @JustWhipIt) @Crimson smile @Archon @Whoever else is a bannermen of the Starks

 

[Archon]

Last Hearth


Dolar Umber
​

Dolar sat, unmoving, in a stance of concentration in a dangerously undersized chair - fashioned for him. Despite his outward appearance, the man quite enjoyed reading, and considered it an honour to hold such a privilege. Whilst he was fairly old, his favourite books were those of Legend, the tales of heroic battles. Bran the Builder, Aemon the Dragonknight, the Dance of Dragons - and perhaps the most fascinating, was the Doom of Old Valyria, primarily because very little was truly known about the event.


A knock on the large oaken door roused the giant from his thoughts. "Enter." Dolar muttered loudly, before offering a friendly smile to the man before him; Maester Tomas, he was a dear friend, and one Dolar was glad to have.


"Agh, Tomas! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Dolar asked happily, placing the book down and standing massively on two feet. But alas, the atmosphere sowered quickly, when the giant caught sight of the pale complexity of the other man's face.


"News from Winterfell, my Lord." Tomas spoke timidly, his arched hands shaking as he held the parchment out with little grace. With a huff, Dolar took the parchment and began read the contents word-by-word... After reading it once, Dolar's eyes raced over the contents of the letter multiple times, before he released a deep breath he hadn't remembered holding.


"So we march to war." Dolar exclaimed, a fierce look of determination across his face, "Send word to Tadhg, tell that wolf-like bastard House Umber answers his Call to Arms!" Dolar ordered enthusiastically, causing the previously nervous Tomas to shuffle off with great haste.


Almost as if racing for his life, the bear slayer found himself exhausted as he raced atop the Tower of Last Hearth with all his speed, it was something he took pride in - the soldiers he commanded, the men of House Umber were some of the fiercest, most skilled in the realm; and they knew it.


Reaching his destination, he took a deep breath, before releasing it onto an enormous horn - it's mighty sound echoing across the castle. The Horn of War had been blown, the men of Last Hearth would be ready to march soon, and word would soon reach the nearby towns and villages who would also rally their troops in Last Hearth. Now, it was time to prepare, House Umber of Last Hearth marched behind the Starks to war.


@Veyd Sahvoz

 

[Mion]

Oldtown, The Reach.


POV: Lord Gawain Hightower.


Lord Gawains chambers was luxurious and comfy, the room looked alive with a large burning fireplace which heated the room and provided an alternative source of light. The windows were shut and Lord Hightower sat at his large wooden desk, it was old but practical he would write letters and all sorts of documents on it with a quill and pen on his left and his Houses seal on his right, a large rug was in the middle of the room and the Lords own bed was placed against the wall opposite to his desk.


Gawain sat at his desk with a letter in front of him, a letter from the man named Viserys Blackfyre, the letter stated that the current Targaryens on the throne are bastards and that he is the true King of the Seven Kingdoms by right. Gawain rolled the letter up and bound it with a string of letter while deep in though and placed it in a pocket inside his cloak that was resting on the back of his seat.


As Gawain rose from his seat there was a knock on his door, Gawain smiled as he called to invite them in.


"You may enter."


Lyonel Hightower Gawains, first born son and heir entered the room and formally stated.


"Father I have organised the household guard and the horses and they will be ready to leave whenever you are ready."


Gawain approached Lyonel and put a hand on his shoulder, easing him a little, although Lyonel was a competent ruler and he had never disappointed his father he put too much thought into simple matters.


"Thank you... once me and your brother leave I will leave you in charge of the city, trust me when I say that you will do a good job in my absence, just think of it like conversing with a stranger or flirting with a beautiful girl and you will get the job well done." Gawain chuckled before he continued on a slightly more serious note taking his hand off his shoulder,


"Once I and your brother return from paying our respects to the late Lord Tyrell we will need to hold a council here in Oldtown, there are some matters of importance that we must discuss."


Lyonel feeling a bit more confident nodded and smiled.


"I understand, I hope you and brother enjoy your travels... well as much as one can attending a funeral."


Gawain responded worriedly.


"Although unfortunate in circumstances it is a good opportunity for Bedivere to get out of the city, he hasn't travelled much since he was plagued with that horrid disease. If you would be kind enough to run and tell the men I am right you I would be grateful." he added a nod of his head towards the door at the end of his statement.


Lyonel nodded and replied.


"Of course father." before he made his way out of Gawains chambers. Gawain donned his cloak with the letter still inside before leaving his chambers.

 

[Elendithas]

Emissaries - Red Keep



​

The three men drank almost in unison when the lady called them gentlemen. The leading emissary let out a loud burp just as he put the mug down, drying his beard with a lower part of his beard before speaking. "Aye? Well why don't ye have a seat lassies. Tell us a story!" He said, motioning to some of the many empty seats at the long table they were sat at. His accent were quite prominent in his speech, though him speaking now was essentially a combination of his speech with the queen and among his fellow emissaries. While this form of entertainment was probably uncommon for the ladies, it was one of the most common forms for these men. It were one of the reasons they were chosen to be emissaries, the constant chatter of telling stories generally making them better at speaking to people outside Ibben.





@Hypnos

 

[General_warNpeace]

In a moment of childishness Timos stuck his tongue out at his brother as he left the inn. Grinning ruefully he shook his head before checking on his steed. She was fine and had become settled with resting at the inn. Nodding, pleased, Timos moved on down the street. His target wasn't that far and he had been spying on him for a week through some allies. Slipping into an ally he was bathed in shadows. A young blond teen stepped out and the boy was glad when Timos's brother's wolf didn't seem bothered by his change. Nodding to him the boy gestured for him to stay put in the ally and quickly went to take care of his target. The old man who had been beating prostitutes to the point of near death would be found at the bottom of his steps. His neck broken. The boy made it back quickly and after changing back to Timos and putting back on his cloak he headed further down the street with the wolf by his side. He had promised to give him a walk after all.

 

[Huor Spinks]

Arren Tyrell - Highgarden


Arren was jumpy, and it was probably showing on his face at this point in time, if there was anybody in his office available to look at him. For a moment, he clasped his hands together on his desk, staring unseeingly at the papers before him, before practically bolting out of his chair. He paced the entire length and breadth of the room once, twice, before finally stopping at the window, his fists clenched on the sill as he stared out of the window in the direction of the Shield Islands. He could see nothing, of course. It was too far away to really see what was happening on the Shield Islands, or the damage the Ironborn were probably wrecking on the place, or whether the Redwyne Fleet had arrived to engage the Iron Fleet. In the distance, in the direction of the Shield Islands, there seemed to be thick mist, or maybe it was smoke. It looked like smoke; far too dark to be mist.


It was then that he heard a rap on his door. "Enter," he called, turning his head to see who it was, his body still angled towards the Shield Islands. The door opened then, showing an armoured Ser, one of the Knights of Highgarden.


"Lord Arren," the man said with a bow, "You wished to speak to Ser Morath, the Hedge Knight? He awaits you in the courtyard."


"Very well, you have my thanks. I will speak to him now," Arren said, somehow managing to sound relatively calm. So many things were happening right now, his head was fit to explode from all the information that he was currently having to process. More than ever, he wished for the council of his father. If only Lord Hollis were here right now... he would have no doubt as to what to do, especially concerning what might be a bastard Targaryen in Highgarden. But either way, he would still have to talk to the man, now that Highgarden was temporarily in his charge.


Arren took a deep breath and strode down from his office to the courtyard. He took that time to gather his thoughts. It would not do for a guest to see his apprehension, and he was quite sure he was doing a good job of it, at least, when he finally reached the courtyard. He paused for about two seconds, before pushing the great door open and entering it. A fair breeze ruffled his hair somewhat, and there was a slight scent of roses in the air. The courtyard was full of men, a few of them unfamiliar to him, and in the dead center, stood a man with fine, silvery, platinum hair. There was no doubt about it. He had the Targaryen hair. And the violet eyes. And those features were extremely familiar. Very much like Maeryn Targaryen before him. Arren could barely resist a shudder, though he made sure to face the man squarely, who immediately bent his knee the moment he caught sight of him.


He gave a slight incline of his head. If the man had seen fit to give himself another name rather than his rightful one, then Arren was not going to let on that he knew who this man actually was. "Ser Morath, I believe? Indeed, House Tyrell is in need of arms at this point in time, and you have come at just the right moment. I am grateful for you offer of help." Until he could be sure of what Viserys wanted out of House Tyrell, he was not going to let his guard down. "At this point in time, the Shield Islands are under attack by the Iron Fleet. If you wish for work, we would be grateful if you and your men lent your support to the men already stationed there. I highly doubt you would see combat, but some caution would certainly be advised, in the event that the Ironborn chose to march inwards." Which he highly doubted, but still. It would at least take the man out of his hair while allowing him some time to figure out just what to do with the man.


@TheAncientCenturion

 

[Hypnos]

Rhaenyra Velaryon

The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands
​

If Rhaenyra was at all phased by the odd customs of the Ibbenese she did not show it, she was after all a professional and had held her position in the Targaryen court for many years now, longer than even she could remember being indoctrinated by her father during the reign of King Mearyn the first, serving as a Lady-In-Waiting and friend to Princess Kuvira and her siblings, picking up many of their idiosyncrasies and mannerisms without the crippling paranoia and self loathing that a royal father such as Mearyn brings. In fact Rhaenyra was so good at her job that even her father, a man of stern manner and harsh judgments approved of her nightly activities, always gather information on the Queens friends enemies and more often than not passing a few words of warning to the Lord of Tides, a courtesy to the man who had given her life, tonight would be no exception, Rhaenyra already formulating a plan as she sat next to the dull witted Ibbenese emissaries, putting on her sweetest face as she took a seat to their side.


"Of course my Lords I would love to regale you with many a tale, I'm sure you'd love to hear of such fine men as my ancestor Corlys the Sea Snake, who visited Ibben, or so it is said, or mayhaps the Dragonrider Ser Addam of Hull who slew the great beast Tesserion in the battle of Tumbleton, though I fear I am getting ahead of myself, I am sure you fine gentlemen have many a tale to tell yourselves and I would love to hear how three fine Ibbenese men such as yourselves found your way so far from home"


@Elendithas

 

[Elendithas]

Emissaries - Red Keep



​

The leading emissary watched the girl as she sat, again drinking as she spoke. The first story by the way she described it was about as boring as it came. A man that traveled to Ibben. That was what he wanted to hear; a tale of his own lands where despite his love for it, he felt was a plain place. Of course to others they likely felt the same way of their own lands. When she asked for a story of his own, however, and how in fact they came about getting here, the other two sighed in response, the emissary getting a fair look of excitement upon his face. "AYE! Let me tell ye about how the three of us got called to meet with the Shadow King himself!" he said, the emissary sitting beside him jumping in before he begun.


"Ye'v tellt this story at ilka port fae Ib tae 'ere! tell anither yin jings, crivens, help ma boab!" he said, trying desperately to get the man to tell another story.


"It all started when we went to the palace fer one o' the feasts!" he said, the others again sighing. He could not be stopped now. "We were at the feast hevin' a grand ol' time when somebody comes up t' us. Says we got good words, yeah? I didn' even know what 'e were talking about when 'e said it, but then 'e wants us t' follow 'im int' th' King's privy chambers!" He said, his face glowing with excitement as though he were reliving the situation over again. "So we follow 'im, and follow 'im; takes us damn near an hour t' get to 'is chambers. We gets there and he opens this 'uge door. Musta been twenty feet high. 'e motions us t' go in 'nd there we see 'im. 'ugest man I've ever seen sittin' in a chair. Thought 'e was a statue at first what wit' the armor, but then 'e stands. Looked like a giant! 'e had to 'ave been twice me height, and three times me width! I reckon the door was that big just t' get the man through it. And 'is armor. Only set o' metal plate I'd ever seen 'till then, but it weren't like what ye 'ave 'ere. T'were some o' the most fiercome designs you'd 'ave seen, I can promise ye that. So 'e comes up t' us, these two were shakin' in their boots, and starts speakin', says 'I hear you three have a way with words.'. We have an exchange o' words, and then 'e straight up hires us! Sends us t' the boat over in the dock now with our instructions and sends us off."


The man spoke the story like he had told it a hundred times before-hand, and by the looks of his comrades by the time it were over, he might have.


@Hypnos

 

[Elendithas]

Swain - Rosby



​

Ol' peg-leg Thackery, AKA Swain, were sitting just outside of Rosby, most of his men lying low in the grass waiting for the signal. The signal really was no more than screaming and the occasional exceptionally loud yell from a pirate. That signal came, of course, to the dismay of any villagers that happened to not be around the keep. One hundred sixty men stood quickly from the grass, yelling out their war cries as they charged into the village, sparing none in their path. The initial goal was to kill most everyone they could, the second part of the plan being to take what was left. They wouldn't need it anyway. Swain walked, cutlass in hand, approaching the keep, who's gates were wide open and was occupied by a force of pirates who were already gathering everything of value, food being among the things valued. Coming upon the gates, he let out a loud "YAAAAARRRR!" To let everyone know of his presence. Many of the garrison were dead, the rest having given up a while ago and having generally painful beatings happening. His crew were not nice men, nor was he, as was evident when he buried the hook on his arm into a kneeled guard's head in passing him. At the sight of the doors to the lord's halls being closed, he looked about before seeing one of his most trusted and generally well-liked crew members doing some flashy moves and speaking in such a way as to provoke laughter in most were they not too busy being slaughtered or doing said slaughtering.


"Phoenix! What's up wit' this here door?! Ye get a limb stuck in the hinges?" he yelled out to the man before letting out a hardy "YAR HAR HAR HAR!" Many of the nearby pirates following suit. They were having a pleasant time by the looks of things, though the fresh meat that were the distraction were probably having a much harder time of it, namely in them being decimated by trained soldiers. "Let's pop open this crate and get to the plunder!" Swain yelled out, a dozen or so men hearing that as a call for his crew. And they were right. It were going to take a lot of people to get this thing open in time for their deadline of 'get everything and get out in an hour', but they might be able to do it. Pointing his cutlass forward to the door, he yelled out "BRING 'EM DOWN BOYS!" before a group of men went to the doors and started to wail on the thing with their weapons. The intentions weren't so much to actually chop the door down as it were to make room to grip the thing and pull it open.


@Leusis

 

[Leusis]

Tai Fang - Rosby



​

Tai looked to Swain as he spoke, continuing to dance around a young boy, smacking him on the head with his bow each time he attempted to crawl away. "A lamb never escapes the lion!" he yelled at the boy as he smacked him again, sending the boy face first into the dirt, much to the amusement of the surrounding pirates who were busy taking advantage of the boys mother. Stopping for a moment he turned to respond to his captain "Cravens decided to barricade themselves inside captain, I will return with a solution". Giving Swain a wicked smile he turned to walk away, stomping on the young boys neck to end his life as his mother screamed in grief and rage.





Entering a large storage area Tai would look around for a moment before spotting what he intended to find. Picking up two large harpoons that were obviously used on boats to catch sharks or small whales he carried them on his shoulders as he left. Returning to the pirates now at work slamming themselves and their weapons against the door Tai would chuckle. Approaching the doors he whispered to two men and handed each of them a harpoon. Each man placing the tip of his harpoon on one of the doors they screamed out "One of ye whores bang this in fer me!". Two of the larger pirates carrying mauls would approach and begin driving the harpoons into the wood with their hammers.


When they were finished the men would tie long ropes to the harpoons and begin pulling, twenty men or so on each rope. Quickly the doors to the hall began to creak as they strained against the force exerted on them by the pulling men. Soon loud pops could be heard as the hinges were starting to be ripped from the building itself. Nocking an arrow on his bowstring Tai would yell "Don't move too quick, fish in a barrel shouldn't try too hard not to die!". It was only moments after that the doors were ripped from the building and the lords defenders rushed out to face their pirate aggressors with their full force of twenty remaining men. Pulling his bowstring back he loosed a single arrow into the leading man-at-arms forehead as he prepared to thrust his spear into a pirate. Only able to loose two more arrows by the time the fighting had ended Tai would sigh quietly in disappointment at how weak the enemy had been and how much work they did just to get to them.


From what Tai could tell it seemed the lord of Rosby had been captured and was currently being dragged to Swain where he would be thrown face first into the dirt before their captain. Smirking Tai would rush to the Rosby Lord, passing him with a strong kick to the jaw as he laughed with glee, blood now coating the top of his boot.


@Elendithas

 

[Elendithas]

Swain - Rosby



​

Swain as the men were busy trying to tear down those gates was busy digging a hole with a nearby shovel he had grabbed. Why, you might ask? To bury something of course! By the time the gates were open, Swain had dug what he considered to be a deep enough hole for what was going in; maybe a foot deep. Seeing as the men guarding the lord were dead in moments, he would be burying exactly what he wanted to very soon. The lord were tossed at his feet not far from said hole as he tossed the shovel aside, standing with his hands at his hips and in a fantastic position to bellow out a loud "YAR HAR HAR!" the men surrounding them both following his example as Tai Fang kicked the man in the face. "Har har." he said, essentially his version of a laugh. "Whaddaya say, boys?! Ye think this here landlubber needs somethin' to remember us by?!" Swain yelled out as the men let out an incomprehensible yell behind him, generally sounding something like a "YAAAAARRRR!"


"Grab his arm!" He yelled to the nearest, most willing crew around. Three men stepped out, one of which holding the man's head up and facing Swain, who had his back turned away dramatically. The other two grabbed his right arm and forced it out to the captain. The sound of steel escaping its prison before the sight of a somewhat bloodied cutlass extended to his side. Swain turned to face the man, the lord getting his first view of the man's pitch black eyes, his rough facial hair and unbelievably dirty teeth adding to the generally horrifying sight. The lord begun to struggle at that point to no effect, the three holding him being very strong in comparison. "Let's see how he handles real pain." Swain stated, an ominous tone coming over his voice before raising his cutlass and swiftly dropping it onto the elbow of him. It were a near clean cut, though it didn't quite go all the way through, warranting a second blow as the lord screamed in agony. "Pipe down ye coward! We're only half o' the way done!" He yelled at him, many of the surrounding pirates laughing afterwards. "Lie him down!"


The men holding the lord forced him to the ground on his back, letting go of his now severed arm, one of them holding his chest to the ground while the other held the end of his left leg. "Only one more!" He said as he rose his cutlass again, swinging it heavily onto the knee of the leg, again warranting a second blow. He didn't quite have the strength he used to, not to mention flesh and bone weren't the easiest things to cut through. The lord again crying out in pain, adding on the pain from his severed arm, he struggled as well as he could, but to no avail. He were now bleeding heavily, and would die soon, but not to the blood loss. "Time for the finale boys! Hold 'im up!" He yelled out as the men did so, standing aside to some extent. They knew what came next, though some in the group did not. Swain rose his arm and swung it vertically, lopping the man's head off. Oddly enough, this one only took a single blow. "HAR HAR HAR HAR!" He bellowed, as the crew laughed with him. "Grab all the plunder ye can carry and bring it with ye! Put the harvest in the remaining carts and bring it to the ships!" He yelled out so that everyone could hear him.


The crew spreading out, he kicked the severed head into the hole he had dug up earlier, kicking the dirt back onto it so that it covered the head very loosely. Grabbing up the severed limbs, he placed them over the obviously recently dug up patch of dirt in the shape of an X. They would know who were here. Those with any wit about them that was.

 

[Leusis]

Tai Fang - Rosby

​

Tai laughed along with the crew as Swain did his work just as he always did. It seemed the son of the lord who had likely went off to fight the distraction forces would be a lord when he returned. Turning to a few of the pirates who were watching Tai spoke "Go grab the lords lady, he won't be needing her anymore, same with any daughters he might have". The pirate nodding in agreement rushed into the Great Hall, only minutes later returning with the lady of the house and two young daughters. "Hold them" he said as the pirates brought the two women to their knees, Tai kneeling down to get on eye level. "Now Lady Rosby, I'd like you to choose which daughter these lovely men are going to take with us" he spoke in a sinister tone.


The mother obviously scared and panicked spoke "Take me instead, please!" wailing as tears streamed down her face. Rubbing her cheek to remove the tears Tai would speak again "Choose or we'll take both". Hesitating for some time the mother eventually looked to her older daughter and spoke "Her". The look of betrayal on her daughters face bringing a smile to Tai's face as he gestured to the younger daughter "Take her" he said as he stood up. The four pirates that had brought the women outside snickered as one of them picked up the younger daughter and began carrying her off. Unable to comprehend what had just happened the mother simply fell to the ground, groveling at Tai's feet as she wept for her daughters. "Take the older one too, separating the siblings would just be cruel" Tai spoke as he giggled at the mother who screamed in anguish at his words. "Do what you will with the mother" he finished as the two remaining pirates ripped her from the ground and carried her off into the hall kicking and screaming.


Coming closer to Swain Tai would chuckle quietly to himself. "We better get going soon or the forces this place sent out will catch up to us before everybody is on the boats" he spoke calmly, understanding that it had almost been an hour by now.


@Elendithas

 

[SirDerpingtonIV]

Haelga Greyjoy


Pyke, Iron Islands


The Escape, Part III



​

Haelga and her soldiers had infiltrated the armory and had begun gathering their weapons when one of the scouts she had posted cried out that more of Conn's men were coming. Haelga beckoned her Yi Ti crossbows out first, with her, bear, and all the others who were armed to fight. The armory was at the corner of two long hallways, one leading back to the prisoner's wing and the other island keeps, and another leading towards the gates and the island of Pyke. The Ironborn were coming from the second hall, meaning they had been in the garrison of the first keep.


She positioned a few of her crossbows in a line, with two feet of space between the shoulders of each man, and a second line a few steps behind them. Behind the crossbows, she and all the readied melee soldiers stood, ready to advance incase Conn's men continued their charge after the crossbows let off their volley. The Greyjoys entered the hallway, shields raised as they spotted the crossbows. Haelga's men let off a volley, bolts in bedding themselves in shields, only three of the enemy going down, out of a number that seemed to be approaching seventy. Her crossbows, as they had practiced, lowered heir weapons slightly as if to begin reloading, luring Conn's men into a charge, weapons raised and shields lowered slightly to make running easier. Men with two-handed axed took the lead, to easily cut the crossbows down. However, suddenly, the crossbow men raised their weapons again, letting loose a second volley into the Greyjoy soldiers, cutting down the front row like crops before the scythe, the momentum of a charge slowing in confusion in terror, before a third, fourth, and fifth volley were launched in quick succession. As the crossbows stopped to reload, Haelga led a thunderous countercharge against the remainder of Conn's men, who had lost a little over half their number and much of their bravery. They quickly crumbled into a confused rout after a brief clash, a few being cut down as they fled, but many scrambling off to hide around the castle.


As the last of her men armed themselves, she took a brief count, but was... Unable to find Giaou. He was an essential member of her following and even someone she would have considered a close friend. However, as she didn't have the time to look for him, she led her men towards the gates in order to make the escape.


However, just as they approached the gates, which were closed, another armed group stepped out from behind themlead by none other than her uncle. Both groups watched eachother in a silent standstill, before Vaughan stepped forward to speak up. "A little rude to make a mess of Conn's hospitality, don't you think?" He asked jokingly, although his face was as cool and featureless as stone.


"You and I both know that's a lie, uncle," Haelga said darkly, shield in hand, axe lain across her shoulder. "There's no need for blood to be shed here, Vaughan. We are kin and this is our home, no place fo-"


"I had no intentions of fighting you or your men, Haelga," Vaughan admitted, eyeing her with something bordering admiration, or dissapointment. He had always been a hard man to read. "I just came to see you off, and warn you that what you are doing is treason against your brother and your king, and that when Conn comes back... I don't think he'll have mercy upon you again like he did now," he warned, frowning.


"If he comes back," Haelga corrected. "You put too much faith in him, uncle. He sends the Iron Fleet to its death over a fucking rock that he cannot possibly have the slightest clue on how to open. He will be smashed by the Redwyne fleet, and if he somehow wins that fight, he won't have enough men remaining to take Oldtown. You know that, uncle." She explained with the utmost confidence. "He will die in battle, clinging to a past we can no longer achieve as his drift wood, before he sinks to the Halls of the Drowned God. Come with me, and we can change things. Make up for what Conn has lost our people, please uncle," she said, trying to persuade him, but even now, before Vaughan even opened his mouth, she knew she was having little effect.


Vaughan simply shook his head. "Conn is our king, and despite whatever he may do, we must support him, as his family and his subjects. Leave now, Haelga, before I find myself forced to bring you back to your cell," he said, frowning heavily, almost as if he had known she was right. He watched, as Haelga simply nodded, and turned to leave, her men following behind her.


--------------------------------------


An hour later,


Haelga's silent marching was interrupted by a cry from behind her, given by one of her rear-facing scouts. She turned, axe drawn, only to see two figures moving down the path after them. She gave the order for her group to continue on to Lord's Port, as she turned, alone with the exception of Bear, to confront the two.


She was soon startled to discover that those who stood before her were none other than the guard and had slain earlier with Giaou, and her brother's bastard daughter Eleri, whom looked scared. Both of them were looking quite out of breath. The guard spoke with Giaou's voice, addressing her. "Greetings again, Haelga," the man spoke with a smile.


She couldn't help but chuckle, shaking her head with exasperation. "Always, always, you pull this kind of shit and worry me Giaou," she sighed, striding towards the two of them. Eleri stepped back, eyes wide with fear and defiance both, and to Haelga's respect, she didn't appear to be crying either. "Hello Eleri," she greeted with a smile. "We were just about to leave on a great adventure! Would you like to come along?" She offered, holding out her hand with a smile, hooking her axe into her belt. The girl just frowned at her, shaking her head. Haelga frowned, as if offended. "All these years away from home and it is so bad that I wanted to meet my niece?" She asked, voice filled with hurts. She told herself it was an act, but atleast part of it was actual sorrow. She had never met her niece, and hadn't been to Pyke since she was a girl. She was kicked out by her own family and her brother had never bothered speaking to her until he needed her to do something for him. And now, she'd take his child from him, to raise her away from him, and he could know just how it felt to not have your family for so long. Unless he was dead. In that case, she was securing control over Eleri, so that the girl wouldn't pose a threat to her future rule.


The girl frowned, looking guilty for a moment, before she nodded. "Alright.... I will come with you..." She said, taking Haelga's hand, both of them smiling at one another, before they walked, hand in hand, down to Lordsport.





------------------------------------


At sea,


It was effortless for Haelga to move through the emptied-out Lordsport, leading her men to the ships, which were still left at anchor at the docks. The few guards around scattered at the sight of the heavily armed party, hiding until they departed.


It had been a few days at sea, mostly spent avoiding Ironborn vessels. Haelga had set a course for Casterly Rock the day before, sendin off a raven ahead of her, and raising a white flag above the sails marked with her own personal standard, the yellow kraken of the Greyjoys in front of a large orange circle, representing the setting sun of the Sunset Sea, upon the black of the Greyjoys.


She figured that even if the entire continent hated the Ironborn at the moment, the Lannisters would still temporarily take her in, provided they could benefit from it somehow. She'd never met a Greenlander lord, atleast one on Westeros, and was admittedly anxious and unsure about how to interact with them. But, she knew she had to atleast try. They only had enough provisions for the journey back to Pyke, and we're running desperately low. She stood at the prow of her own personal Iron Ship, watching the towers of Casterly Rock, and the sails of the Lannister fleet in Lannisport appear on the horizon.


Within an hour or two, her ships were approaching the port, their white flags raised from the top of their masts.


THE LETTER


(I don't know that fancy bbcode shit)


To Tiber Lannister, Warden of the West, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, Lord of Casterly Rock,


I begin this letter sure that you are aware of the recent actions of my elder brother, Conn Greyjoy, against your vassal, Lord Farman of House Farman, and the people of the Fair Isle. He has set himself and our people upon a path that cannot bode well for any involved by beginning this conflict. He holds himself to the old, dated notion that the Ironborn were purposed by whatever Gods there are to raid and pillage the coasts of those who cannot protect themselves from our ships. This is wrong. I am aware that my words mean nothing compared to the deaths and suffering of all those my brother's men have slain, but I, regardless, offer you an apology for what has been done, and perhaps a way to end further atrocities.


I am a Greyjoy in little more than name, raised on the Lonely Light and on the decks of ships. I am not a pillager, I am not a reaper. I am an explorer, a merchant, a diplomat. I have crossed the Sunset Sea and traded with those who live on the other side. I have discovered much and brought back more. I will change the Iron Islands, and all of Westeros in time. But first, I plan to end this pointless affliction that plagues both our peoples. In a day's time, I will arrive at Lannisport, with information you may find interesting on my elder brother and his plans, and much, much more.


Haelga Greyjoy, Kraken of the Lonely Light

 

[D3lmoniko]

On the road to Castlery Rock, Westerlands


The road crackled under the heavy steps of the horses and men that used it, sometimes water that was trapped under the rocks from past rains would splash up, making the road a little more muddier than usual. The men were silent, and the chirping of birds could be heard, sounding more like a soothing harmony of the elements.


At the front of the 'pack' was Lawsen, alongside his sister Fryda. "I don't want to get betrothald to some boring old man..." Fryda said, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Why not Liana? She is young. Sure, she lacks the grace, but a few lessons, and she could be the pri-" Lawsen looked in her direction. "Liana is young, yes. Too young to give up. But you, no offense sister, but you are getting old." A slab could be heard as Fryda's hand clashed with Lawsen's cheek. "How dare you!"


A few steps back, was Gendry with Rupert on each side of Liana. She was in a slightly yellow dress, riding the horse like a lady. That was a thing she hated, but was willing to do. Her brother told her after all. Rupert looked at her and smiled. "Oi Gendry, look at this young puppy. Where's yar armor now?" Liana turned to look at Rupert, with a grin. "Armor or no, I could still beat you to a pulp, Rupert. Remember yesterday?" Rupert laughed, and so did Gendry. "Yeah." Gendry said. "Rupert, she made your face look like a tomato. All swollen and bloated." Rupert laughed too. "Oi Laws-" Gendry looked at him and punched his shoulder. "I mean, Lord Clegane! You don't need a successor! You have this one here to kick arse for ya!"


Lawsen looked back and smiled, then he looked in front, staring into space again. He did not think about getting a wife, and he was missing a successor. Even now, he was heading to another person's wedding, but he never had one. "...That's right big brother. You need to find someone yourself. Fryda's face was dominated by a coy smile, as she knew where to hit at home. "Maybe if you stop whoring around, you might find someone to settle with." Lawsen growled.


@WanderingJester

 

[TheAncientCelt]

Highgarden





POV: Morath son of Myaern
​

Morath didn't rise to his feet once the acting lord of Highgarden addressed him. He knew enough about lordly manners to keep himself grounded to the floor. 'The Shields? The Ironborn?' Viserys thought to himself. They weren't part of the plan, not by a long shot. The lord of Pyke was some mad man, Conn, Viserys believed. It didn't shock him that with the demise of his father and civil war on the horizon that the Greyjoy acted so rashly. 'They've rebelled more than Wildlings have had kings.' He thought dryly. The King Beyond the Sea had no intention of fighting the Ironborn, however. Certainly not at sea. He wasn't afraid of their might, but the Ironborn were masters in the waters. 'And I detest being stuck on a boat.' He smiled warmly up at Arren, his voice growing louder, more confidence resounding in it than before. "Excellent suggestion, Lord Tyrell. I hear great tales of the Iron Fleet's devastation at sea. But. . " Viserys sucked in some air. "As it would be, I am alone. But a hedge knight, my lord, I have no followers or bannermen to call upon." 'Yet'.


"I can do as you say, I can ride down the Mander in the direction of the Shields. May I have a banner, to proudly proclaim myself your champion in this battle, Lord Tyrell?" Viserys smiled at the man, his eyes seemed to burn in the night sky. They were full of fire, violence, energy, threatening to leap from Viserys' skull, or so it seemed. The hedge knight looked over at the table, not far from where he was. Blackfyre and the steel sword were still in place, neither opened yet. 'Good. Let's keep it that way, Lord Tyrell.'

Storm's End, Ship Breaker Bay





POV: Aiden Stark
​

The Lone Wolf, as some called him in King's Landing, laughed victoriously as he and his ships were escorted further into Ship Breaker Bay. 'Escorted, forced,' He shrugged off the difference. Braedon would be a kind host, especially after hearing the good news the Stark had to bring. 'The war won't begin.' As a warrior, there were parts of him that regretted those words. If all went well today, the war would be avoided. He would lose all chances at attaining glory. 'But thousands of lives will be spared.' As a knight of the King's Guard, his duties were to Kuvira and the Throne. No peasant should be murdered for a dispute between two nobles.


"It'll be tricky talking Braedon down, eh?" It was a Goldcloak, Denny, Braedon believed. He had a welcoming face and nice clean teeth, with the perfect sized nose.


"Aaah!" The Lone Wolf laughed, slapping the Goldcloak hard between his shoulder blades. "He isn't that bad. At least compared to his older brother. He won't like the terms we'll give him, but the other choice is war and death. Braedon's not a dull sword either, he's just not as sharp as he ought to be."


"As you say, Ser." Denny leaned forward, his elbows resting on the side of the ship. "He tried to kill her grace and princess Aerea at the coronation, who knows what atrocities he might commit. Guest Right is nothing to this man."


"Oh hush now." Aiden clapsed his hand over Denny's mouth, eyeing the fast approaching harbor. "I'm not convinced it was him. Lord Oswald, seven take him, raised Braedon better than that. Don't worry though, we'll find out the true soon anyhow. . " With a devious smirk, the Kingsguard turned back to his crew. "Blow the horns, again!"


Music, if one could call it that, was played all the way to the docks, the laughter of the Lone Wolf only momentarily breaking the screeching sound.

 

[WanderingJester]

Carth Flowers


The War Room, Horn Hill, the Reach.



​

Ser Carth Flowers stood in the same room as some of the most powerful men in Reach, and he did his best to ignore the itch under his armor.


In front of him, Helyon Tarly stood in front of a map of Northern Reach, along with several other bannermen of House Tyrell. Immediately to his right and left were Roth Rowan and Luthor Redwyne, Lord of Goldengrove and the Arbor respectively. Beside them were Lord Merryweather, being Lord Tarly's in-laws, Lord Fossoway the Elder and Lord Fossoway the younger, with House Fossoway essentially two fingers on the same hand and extremely close to House Merryweather. The last few members, the heir of House Appleton, the brother of Lord Caswell, and the second born of House Ashford, came as sign of respect to House Tarly, and included within their invitation after arriving early to Highgarden, where the preparations for Hollis Tyrell's funeral were not yet ready, and would take some time. Instead of letting various Lords stay at inns, Helyon Tarly invited them back to Horn Hill, since it was a relatively short ride from there to Highgarden and perhaps let the grief of their lord's loss stay its hand from their minds for a bit longer.


Clearly that wasn't the only reason he invited these particular individuals.


Carth stood to the side, where he's joined by Rowan and Oswen Tarly, both eager to participate in the larger affairs of their house, though Rowan hid his emotions better than his younger brother. Looking over the map now, the location that amassed the most pieces wasn't the Reach, it was the Westerlands. Looking to the various individuals around him, Helyon Tarly pointed at Casterly Rock on the map, looking like a petrified ant hill that's been disturbed. "The lions are stirring. We should prepare our forces now, before they pounce and take half of the Reach with them." Roth Rowan look surprised, as did many in the room. Oswen and the Appleton's jaw dropped, while Rowan raised his eyebrows as well as the Ashford son. Only Luthor gave no indication of surprise. The older Fossoway spoke up first.


"What makes you think they'll invade Reach? The Lannisters can just as easily march east to the Riverlands, and join with either side, depending on who's winning."


"Only a fool unsheathes his sword without intentions of using it, and Tiber Lannister, while young, is no fool. Tell me Fossoway, would you march to war and leave an army the size of Reach to your back?" Helyon replied. Lord Fossoway didn't reply, but the question was for all intents and purposes rhetorical. It seems the Reach would be included in the upcoming war after all, regardless of House Tyrell's decision. The Lord of Horn Hill continued, "The Riverlands will be adequately preoccupied with the Vale and their allies from the North, and even if they struck they would have a hell of a time fighting through the Westerlands' mountains to their west. With the Stag alliance all pointing towards King's Landing, the Westerlands will be free to move as they like."


This time Roth Rowan spoke up. "But wouldn't that make the Riverlands more of a likely target for the Lion? The land would be almost undefended once the Norther Armies and the Riverlords marches for King's Landing, and we still outnumber them."


Helyon turned to his friend. "And where do you think the armies will go once King's Landing falls? The young man's no fool, and isn't so shortsighted to try and defend a damaged Riverlands against the combined might of both the Riverlords and the North with so little to gain. Besides, Tiber Lannister needs to feed his army, and we have the bigger breadbasket compared to the Tullys. He'll be even more convinced to do so once news of Hollis' death reaches him. As much as others might ignore this fact, I will not: Arren Tyrell does not currently have his father's strength, experience and authority. He might in time, but the Lion will not wait until that day comes. The Westermen will march against us, all signs are pointing to that."


Carth could see the wheels turning in many of the Lord's heads, and the younger members of the room, Helyon's sons included, were already nodding their heads in agreement. Finally Lord Merryweather broke the silence. "What should we do then? Alert Highgarden?" Lord Tarly looked to his father-in-law.


"Begin gathering your forces, we can alert Highgarden when the funeral starts, and from there the rest of Reach can be raised to arms. The Ironborn's attack was a mixed blessing: a good number of soldiers are already assembled and some of them bloodied. That alone should dissuade the Lion from striking early. However they're also tired from the battle, even if it was a quick victory for us. I've already sent a raven to Red Lake and Hammerhal, to report any signs of incursion and to prepare our first line of defense." He picked up two more letters in his hands, holding them up in their sealed envelops. "I intend to alert the Shield Islands and request support in the future. I'll also answer the Lannister's invitation to their little party, let Tiber Lannister know that the Reach stands ready despite recent events." Knowing Helyon as he did, Luthor Redwyne spoke up.


"Would that be wise? Provoking Casterly Rock would do nothing but strengthen their resolve against us." The Lord of Horn Hill looked to the map, before taking a knife and slamming it on Casterly Rock and Lannisport. Carth flinched at the bang. He wasn't the only one in the room to.


"If the lion's already decided to go for your throat, the only logical thing you can do is hold your sword in front of it. If it pokes it on the side in the process, so be it." He turned to Carth and held out the letters, which the knight quickly took the letters gently and stepped back once more. "Rowan, Oswen, begin gathering the men. Flowers, take the letters to Broin, then rejoin your unit and do the same. We have one more piece of business to discuss before finishing things up here, but those tasks cannot be delayed. Go now." With a quick nod, Carth, Rowan and Oswen all left the room, with the brothers going one way and Carth going the other.


They would make war against the Lannisters? A thousand thoughts raced through bastard knight's mind. How would this affect the rest of Westeros if the Reach fought against the Westerlands? Would those near the Arbor even come to the aid of, say, Golden Grove? He couldn't see House Costayne giving two shits about what happened to those in the north of the kingdom, and what about Dorne? Would they strike while the Stags focused on King's Landing and the Reach focused against the Lions? He wouldn't put it past those thieving sand snakes to take advantage of a situation like this. That means that Horn Hill can't muster all of its forces against Tiber Lannister, and what does that mean for the battles ahead? Before he knew it Carth had arrived at Maester Broin's quarters and handed off the letters to the older man. The young knight didn't even see the man attach the letters to the ravens, already turned around and executing the rest of his orders while sorting out the mess that came from the conversation in the war room.


______________________________

Martyn Lannister


Private Quarters, Casterly Rock, the Westerlands.



​

Martyn Lannister sat on a table to the side with his armor and weapons on, as usual, while he watched over the occupants of the room, nursing a cup of ale in his hand. It was a spacious place, larger than a number of minor house's great hall. Unlike the actual great hall of Casterly Rock though, this room gave more of a cozy and private atmosphere where family members may relax, rather than the throne room/feasting hall of the great hall, while maintain a good size so that even if all the branches of House Lannisters were to assemble here, no one would feel cramped. To one side, Celena and Leanne, along with their gaggle of handmaidens, fretted over the details of the upcoming wedding and everything that came with it. The tourney set up, prizes, wedding ceremony seating, the feasts seating, everything from the flowers at the table to the bride's dress had to be planned. Martyn didn't envy the ladies' tasks; he would gladly take bashing someone's face in rather than sit at a table labor over hours of things to do and plan. Unfortunately, he would not be taking part of the upcoming tourney. They would go to war very soon, and it would not do well to get a needless injury before that.


On the other side of the room, several men gathered to do something similar to the ladies, but for much grimmer business. The thousands of men outside Casterly Rock must be fed, housed, clothed and armed, not to mention none essentials like pay and entertainment in the form of women and violence. Martyn had to give it to his brother; Tiber made a hell of an administrative system to address issues. Clear cut lists of powers and responsibilities listed from the highest of commanders to the lowest of quartermasters made it sure that everyone knows their own jobs, and problems about who messed up where could be identified quickly and dealt with efficiently. Order of command and succession equally clear, along with the pay of every company within the Lannister army. Evidently Tiber had planned for this since the War of the Lions, perhaps even before that.


"-and I've just received a letter from the Iron Bank. They assure us that they're monitoring the situation developing with Ibben and will take appropriate actions if necessarily."


Speaking of the man, a door opened to the side of the room and in strolled the Lion of Lannister himself, along with their uncle Edwyn and several others, and of course the two Lionguards that stood by the door while the rest stayed outside. Upon hearing her betrothed's voice, Leanne got up and hurried over to Tiber, giving him the usual greeting of kisses before giving him a mixture of sternness and curiosity in both her tone of voice and expression. "Dear, are we borrowing from the Braavosi now? We can cut the costs if they're getting too bothersome."


Tiber laughed. "Oh by the Seven! Nothing of the sort Leanne. I promise you we have plenty of funds for the wedding with more than enough leftover. A few years ago, when the war in the Westerlands ended, I found myself in a position to assist the Iron Bank in some matters. I chose to do so given the possibilities of future trade agreements with Braavos and we've been continuing our correspondence since then. A matter of trade in information as well as goods in both our docks if you will. There's no need to worry." At that Leanne smiled, gave him another kiss, before headed back to the table for more work on the wedding itself.


"When you get a moment, will you please join me? There are some decisions about our wedding that we need to consider together and I would feel better if you were here as well."


"Of course my dear. Be there in a moment."


Wilhelm gave a grin to his cousin. "Not even married and whipped already Tiber?" Tiber laughed and clapped his cousin on the shoulder.


"You have much to learn about women Wilhelm, very much indeed." Wilhelm really was clueless about the fairer sex, and so Martyn let out a grin at that. Even Uncle Edwyn gave a soft chuckle, before the group headed to one of tables that the ladies were at earlier. This one had many parchments and letters placed neatly on different piles along with a list of names and numbers next to them. Evidently the ladies had been sorting through the mountains of invitees and those that have responded positively or negatively to the event. Several names were crossed out, and Tiber picked up one of the letters before reading it quickly, then calling over to his betrothed. "Leanne, looks like House Tully and House Bracken will be able to make it. We should put them at a table close to us during the feast. From the ladies' custer, Leanne's voice rung out back at him.


"Oh good! I've been looking forward to seeing some of my younger cousins. They must have grown so much by now!" With that the two went back to their respective tasks, though Martyn's attention was drawn more towards Tiber, who showed the letter to the Lord of Lannisport. The Mountain Lion got up and joined the group to hear the conversation properly.


"How many were compromised?" The tone of his brother's voice grew serious with a split second, like the sudden chills of winter on an autumn day. Uncle Edwyn looked over the letter and held out his hand, where his son pulled out another parchment and handed it to his father. Comparing the contents of both notes, the Lord of Lannisport looked back at Tiber.


"Less than a third. We have more than enough men in the Riverlands to continue. This would put us back a day, at most." Were they marching on the Riverlands after the wedding? Martyn kept to himself, though he couldn't help but feel the slight tinge anticipation of battle again, like most men did the night before a tourney. Most would attribute the nervousness to fear of death; if anything it made Martyn feel alive. He snapped back into reality when Tiber placed the letter back down and reached for some parchment, ink and quill.


"Good, we'll continue with the plan then," Tiber replied as he jotted down a note to himself to begin replying to those who've responded to their invitations. Meanwhile something caught Uncle Edwyn's eyes and he picked up another piece of letter. His eyebrows rose as he read it, and by the time the Lord of Lannisport finished, he looked wary, almost worried to Tiber, who tilted his head at his fleet master. "Yes?"


Edwyn handed the letter over. "From Helyon Tarly. The man's very blunt." Tiber took the letter and read over it, before putting it down and taking a breath. Then he smiled.


Martyn tensed, as did Wilhelm and a few others froze. He couldn't blame them, especially if they've never seen this side of Tiber before. Even as his younger brother, Martyn's only ever saw that smile once himself, and it was when they dragged what was left of House Tarbeck and House Reyne out from Tarbeck Hall. Tiber had the same smile on his face as he gave the order and every man, woman and child with the name Tarbeck or Reyne promptly got their heads removed from their bodies, some of which after they been tossed to the men for entertainment. Now it was in front of him again, and the Mountain Lion couldn't help but think of how all their plans for the Riverlands just got tossed out of the window with a single letter. After all, a Lannister always pays his debt.


Tiber crumpled the letter in his hand, before tossing it into the nearest fireplace where it burned into ashes. "I believe Lord Tarly deserve a proper response for his... direct correspondence, no?" As quickly as the smile came, it was gone. The Lord of Casterly Rock called back to the ladies' group. "Leanne? I need to start replying to our guests, especially to the ones that unfortunately can't make it. May I join you later tonight to discuss the issues you brought up before?"


"Of course my lord, I look forward to it," Her voice answered back.


"As do I," Tiber responded before heading out of the room again, followed by his entourage, many of whom needed to shake the shock off of them from what they had just witnessed.


Letter to Barba Tully:

To Lady Barba Tully, Regent of Riverrun,


We are delighted to hear that we will have the pleasure of you and yours at our wedding. We look ever more forward to the happy day where we may all celebrate as one family. Leanne have been especially eager to see her cousins, which she misses dearly. We understand completely about your husband, and we regret the conditions in which he finds himself currently. Please keep us updated on his conditions, as we all wish the best of health to Lord Walder Tully in these troubling times. May the Mother watch over him. Thank you by the way for sending the men back to Golden Tooth. I would like to reassure you they will be properly chastised and taught how to navigate using a map properly. I apologize for this embarrassing display of poor discipline from the Westerlands in this situation, since we do pride ourselves on maintaining proper order and competence within our forces.


Hear Me Roar,


Lord Tiber Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West.

@Hypnos


_________________________________

Tidus Marbrand


The Docks, Lannisport, the Westerlands.



​

Ser Tidus Marbrand, commander of the Lionguards, stood with a letter in his hand as the flagship from the strange fleet approached.


About a day ago, Lord Tiber had received a curious letter from a certain Greyjoy. Many lords and ladies in his situation would've just teared it up and tossed it away for another day, but the Lion of Casterly Rock decided to indulge a bit. After reading it, he turned to his guards and summoned Tidus to his office. His lord was cautious about a potential bluff, especially one from an Ironborn to either scout or sabotage the operations in the Westerlands as a prelude for a massive strike from the Iron Isles. Still he believed the message the new Lord Wilds sent to the Ironborn had been sufficient, even if it was some bandit raid rather than raiders trying to pay the Iron Price. So after receiving his orders, Tidus passed the proper instructions and information to the patrolling fleets off Lannisport's coast, and gathered the necessarily men at the docks to welcome the Kraken of the Lonely Light into Lannisport, something unprecedented in living history.


When the fleet approached the port, nearly twice the number of Lannister Ships surrounded them. The captain heading the defense force had called out instructions for the flagship carrying Haelga Greyjoy to approach the docks with the Lannisport escorts, while the rest remain anchored offshore. The other ships, from the large bottom vessel to the swan ships, must all remained anchored with their sails tied. Should they refuse, attack and/or provoke the surrounding armada, they will be set upon by the Lion Fleet and destroyed. If they required provisions or living supplies, they must contact one of surrounding vessels, and arrangements will be made to open off shore trading between willing suppliers at the docks and the anchored fleet. After a few tense moments, an affirmative reply came back from what appeared to be the Greyjoy's flagship, and, under Lannister escorts, approached the dock assigned for welcoming Lannisport's newest guests.


As the long ship docked, Tidus could see the white flag on top of the sail, as well as the number of men on its decks. It seemed crowded, so no chance of a fire boat attack, he hoped. Still no chances were taken. The docks, while large, swarmed with armed guards lining up around with their weapons out and ready. Several loaded crossbows leveled at every individual on the ship, while several Lannister guards by some brazers even had unlit torches in hand, in case conflict started and they would set the ship alight. In fact Tidus was the only one within twenty meters of this dock that didn't have his weapons out, holding instead the letter sent. With both sides wary of the other, the ship's crew tied it to the docks. Tidus called out to the Ironmen on board, "Welcome to Lannisport! Please leave your weapons on board your vessel and come out. I am Ser Tidus of the Lionguards and I represent Lord Tiber Lannister currently. Which of you is Haelga Greyjoy, Kraken of the Lonely Light?"


@SirDerpingtonIV

 

[Hypnos]

Rhaenyra Velaryon

The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands.
​

Understanding the emissaries' words with much difficulty, Rhaenyra smiled politely, her violet eyes never leaving the faces of the three bearded men before her, the Valyrian girl nodding happily as the leader, or so it seemed, explained their current situation, his tone suggesting not only that he enjoyed the tale quite a bit and was want to hear his own voice but also informing Rhaenyra that he was loose of tongue, requiring thus far naught in the way of persuasion or bride, I can use this, she though cheerfully, allowing her smile to grow, appearing to the emissaries that she had enjoyed the tale, though it seems doubtful that they know anything, especially if the Shadow King procured them so recently.


"An excellent tale" She replied at last, with enough enthusiasm to let them know she was deeply interested "and well told, though it leave me with so many questions, you gentlemen certainly know how to keep a lady properly entertained, though if I may be so bold, may I inquire as to what these instructions where" She paused for a second, convincingly feigning telling herself off for the notion "Oh I'm getting ahead of myself here, what am I saying, of course you couldn't share such important information with someone such as myself, that would be for the Queens ears only, how silly of me, I apologise if I've offended you in any way" she moved her lips into a frown, looking disappointed in herself.


In truth she didn't really care about what the men had to say, nor their plan, emissaries were common and boring and a waste of her skill, perhaps next time Kuvira could have her question someone more interesting, Rosby's son was always fun under the sheets and the Lord of Duskendale was never one to disappoint, instead she was stuck listening to the stories of a group of drunken Ibbenese, not how she wanted to spend her night, but she supposed it was better than being alone, or even worse being with father.


@Elendithas

Walder Tully

Storm's End, Shipbreaker Bay, The Stormlands​

His head pounding from the loud sounds of the war horn, the ancient bones of Lord Walder Tully creaked heavily underfoot as he followed the Baratheon procession towards the long, narrow beach of Shipbreaker Bay, his trout headed cane tapping lightly against the rough stones that littered the surrounding area and his crippled leg dragging a little upon the coarse white sand, making him seem a sorry sight. It was of little importance however, at least for the moment, as the man's eyes fixed not upon himself or any of his companions but rather the large ship that was entering harbour, Walder despite himself allowing his wrinkled old face to transform into a smile, hope.


Family, Duty, Honour, family was everything to Lord Walder, everything, and it looked like his own was coming through, for even now he could see the face of his nephew, Ser Aiden Stark, baring the banner of peace a sigh the old Lord had never dreamed of seeing, mayhaps Kuvira has swallowed her pride and is looking for mercy, he thought to himself, let us up hope Breaden is willing to give it to her.


"Aiden of the House Stark" Walder called towards the man, beginning before the man even had time to remove himself from the ship "What news from the capital" in truth the old man should have stayed behind in the keep, it was not yet common knowledge that he had sided with the rebels (though many had deduced that he would anyway) and his leg held him back in terms of combat and fighting but it was no matter, no amount of years could erode the old man's pride and he would sooner die than stay cooped up in a tower like some highborn maiden.


@TheAncientCenturion @Archon @JustWhipIt

 

[SirDerpingtonIV]

Carth Flowers


The War Room, Horn Hill, the Reach.



​

Ser Carth Flowers stood in the same room as some of the most powerful men in Reach, and he did his best to ignore the itch under his armor.


In front of him, Helyon Tarly stood in front of a map of Northern Reach, along with several other bannermen of House Tyrell. Immediately to his right and left were Roth Rowan and Luthor Redwyne, Lord of Goldengrove and the Arbor respectively. Beside them were Lord Merryweather, being Lord Tarly's in-laws, Lord Fossoway the Elder and Lord Fossoway the younger, with House Fossoway essentially two fingers on the same hand and extremely close to House Merryweather. The last few members, the heir of House Appleton, the brother of Lord Caswell, and the second born of House Ashford, came as sign of respect to House Tarly, and included within their invitation after arriving early to Highgarden, where the preparations for Hollis Tyrell's funeral were not yet ready, and would take some time. Instead of letting various Lords stay at inns, Helyon Tarly invited them back to Horn Hill, since it was a relatively short ride from there to Highgarden and perhaps let the grief of their lord's loss stay its hand from their minds for a bit longer.


Clearly that wasn't the only reason he invited these particular individuals.


Carth stood to the side, where he's joined by Rowan and Oswen Tarly, both eager to participate in the larger affairs of their house, though Rowan hid his emotions better than his younger brother. Looking over the map now, the location that amassed the most pieces wasn't the Reach, it was the Westerlands. Looking to the various individuals around him, Helyon Tarly pointed at Casterly Rock on the map, looking like a petrified ant hill that's been disturbed. "The lions are stirring. We should prepare our forces now, before they pounce and take half of the Reach with them." Roth Rowan look surprised, as did many in the room. Oswen and the Appleton's jaw dropped, while Rowan raised his eyebrows as well as the Ashford son. Only Luthor gave no indication of surprise. The older Fossoway spoke up first.


"What makes you think they'll invade Reach? The Lannisters can just as easily march east to the Riverlands, and join with either side, depending on who's winning."


"Only a fool unsheathes his sword without intentions of using it, and Tiber Lannister, while young, is no fool. Tell me Fossoway, would you march to war and leave an army the size of Reach to your back?" Helyon replied. Lord Fossoway didn't reply, but the question was for all intents and purposes rhetorical. It seems the Reach would be included in the upcoming war after all, regardless of House Tyrell's decision. The Lord of Horn Hill continued, "The Riverlands will be adequately preoccupied with the Vale and their allies from the North, and even if they struck they would have a hell of a time fighting through the Westerlands' mountains to their west. With the Stag alliance all pointing towards King's Landing, the Westerlands will be free to move as they like."


This time Roth Rowan spoke up. "But wouldn't that make the Riverlands more of a likely target for the Lion? The land would be almost undefended once the Norther Armies and the Riverlords marches for King's Landing, and we still outnumber them."


Helyon turned to his friend. "And where do you think the armies will go once King's Landing falls? The young man's no fool, and isn't so shortsighted to try and defend a damaged Riverlands against the combined might of both the Riverlords and the North with so little to gain. Besides, Tiber Lannister needs to feed his army, and we have the bigger breadbasket compared to the Tullys. He'll be even more convinced to do so once news of Hollis' death reaches him. As much as others might ignore this fact, I will not: Arren Tyrell does not currently have his father's strength, experience and authority. He might in time, but the Lion will not wait until that day comes. The Westermen will march against us, all signs are pointing to that."


Carth could see the wheels turning in many of the Lord's heads, and the younger members of the room, Helyon's sons included, were already nodding their heads in agreement. Finally Lord Merryweather broke the silence. "What should we do then? Alert Highgarden?" Lord Tarly looked to his father-in-law.


"Begin gathering your forces, we can alert Highgarden when the funeral starts, and from there the rest of Reach can be raised to arms. The Ironborn's attack was a mixed blessing: a good number of soldiers are already assembled and some of them bloodied. That alone should dissuade the Lion from striking early. However they're also tired from the battle, even if it was a quick victory for us. I've already sent a raven to Red Lake and Hammerhal, to report any signs of incursion and to prepare our first line of defense." He picked up two more letters in his hands, holding them up in their sealed envelops. "I intend to alert the Shield Islands and request support in the future. I'll also answer the Lannister's invitation to their little party, let Tiber Lannister know that the Reach stands ready despite recent events." Knowing Helyon as he did, Luthor Redwyne spoke up.


"Would that be wise? Provoking Casterly Rock would do nothing but strengthen their resolve against us." The Lord of Horn Hill looked to the map, before taking a knife and slamming it on Casterly Rock and Lannisport. Carth flinched at the bang. He wasn't the only one in the room to.


"If the lion's already decided to go for your throat, the only logical thing you can do is hold your sword in front of it. If it pokes it on the side in the process, so be it." He turned to Carth and held out the letters, which the knight quickly took the letters gently and stepped back once more. "Rowan, Oswen, begin gathering the men. Flowers, take the letters to Broin, then rejoin your unit and do the same. We have one more piece of business to discuss before finishing things up here, but those tasks cannot be delayed. Go now." With a quick nod, Carth, Rowan and Oswen all left the room, with the brothers going one way and Carth going the other.


They would make war against the Lannisters? A thousand thoughts raced through bastard knight's mind. How would this affect the rest of Westeros if the Reach fought against the Westerlands? Would those near the Arbor even come to the aid of, say, Golden Grove? He couldn't see House Costayne giving two shits about what happened to those in the north of the kingdom, and what about Dorne? Would they strike while the Stags focused on King's Landing and the Reach focused against the Lions? He wouldn't put it past those thieving sand snakes to take advantage of a situation like this. That means that Horn Hill can't muster all of its forces against Tiber Lannister, and what does that mean for the battles ahead? Before he knew it Carth had arrived at Maester Broin's quarters and handed off the letters to the older man. The young knight didn't even see the man attach the letters to the ravens, already turned around and executing the rest of his orders while sorting out the mess that came from the conversation in the war room.


______________________________

Martyn Lannister


Private Quarters, Casterly Rock, the Westerlands.



​

Martyn Lannister sat on a table to the side with his armor and weapons on, as usual, while he watched over the occupants of the room, nursing a cup of ale in his hand. It was a spacious place, larger than a number of minor house's great hall. Unlike the actual great hall of Casterly Rock though, this room gave more of a cozy and private atmosphere where family members may relax, rather than the throne room/feasting hall of the great hall, while maintain a good size so that even if all the branches of House Lannisters were to assemble here, no one would feel cramped. To one side, Celena and Leanne, along with their gaggle of handmaidens, fretted over the details of the upcoming wedding and everything that came with it. The tourney set up, prizes, wedding ceremony seating, the feasts seating, everything from the flowers at the table to the bride's dress had to be planned. Martyn didn't envy the ladies' tasks; he would gladly take bashing someone's face in rather than sit at a table labor over hours of things to do and plan. Unfortunately, he would not be taking part of the upcoming tourney. They would go to war very soon, and it would not do well to get a needless injury before that.


On the other side of the room, several men gathered to do something similar to the ladies, but for much grimmer business. The thousands of men outside Casterly Rock must be fed, housed, clothed and armed, not to mention none essentials like pay and entertainment in the form of women and violence. Martyn had to give it to his brother; Tiber made a hell of an administrative system to address issues. Clear cut lists of powers and responsibilities listed from the highest of commanders to the lowest of quartermasters made it sure that everyone knows their own jobs, and problems about who messed up where could be identified quickly and dealt with efficiently. Order of command and succession equally clear, along with the pay of every company within the Lannister army. Evidently Tiber had planned for this since the War of the Lions, perhaps even before that.


"-and I've just received a letter from the Iron Bank. They assure us that they're monitoring the situation developing with Ibben and will take appropriate actions if necessarily."


Speaking of the man, a door opened to the side of the room and in strolled the Lion of Lannister himself, along with their uncle Edwyn and several others, and of course the two Lionguards that stood by the door while the rest stayed outside. Upon hearing her betrothed's voice, Leanne got up and hurried over to Tiber, giving him the usual greeting of kisses before giving him a mixture of sternness and curiosity in both her tone of voice and expression. "Dear, are we borrowing from the Braavosi now? We can cut the costs if they're getting too bothersome."


Tiber laughed. "Oh by the Seven! Nothing of the sort Leanne. I promise you we have plenty of funds for the wedding with more than enough leftover. A few years ago, when the war in the Westerlands ended, I found myself in a position to assist the Iron Bank in some matters. I chose to do so given the possibilities of future trade agreements with Braavos and we've been continuing our correspondence since then. A matter of trade in information as well as goods in both our docks if you will. There's no need to worry." At that Leanne smiled, gave him another kiss, before headed back to the table for more work on the wedding itself.


"When you get a moment, will you please join me? There are some decisions about our wedding that we need to consider together and I would feel better if you were here as well."


"Of course my dear. Be there in a moment."


Wilhelm gave a grin to his cousin. "Not even married and whipped already Tiber?" Tiber laughed and clapped his cousin on the shoulder.


"You have much to learn about women Wilhelm, very much indeed." Wilhelm really was clueless about the fairer sex, and so Martyn let out a grin at that. Even Uncle Edwyn gave a soft chuckle, before the group headed to one of tables that the ladies were at earlier. This one had many parchments and letters placed neatly on different piles along with a list of names and numbers next to them. Evidently the ladies had been sorting through the mountains of invitees and those that have responded positively or negatively to the event. Several names were crossed out, and Tiber picked up one of the letters before reading it quickly, then calling over to his betrothed. "Leanne, looks like House Tully and House Bracken will be able to make it. We should put them at a table close to us during the feast. From the ladies' custer, Leanne's voice rung out back at him.


"Oh good! I've been looking forward to seeing some of my younger cousins. They must have grown so much by now!" With that the two went back to their respective tasks, though Martyn's attention was drawn more towards Tiber, who showed the letter to the Lord of Lannisport. The Mountain Lion got up and joined the group to hear the conversation properly.


"How many were compromised?" The tone of his brother's voice grew serious with a split second, like the sudden chills of winter on an autumn day. Uncle Edwyn looked over the letter and held out his hand, where his son pulled out another parchment and handed it to his father. Comparing the contents of both notes, the Lord of Lannisport looked back at Tiber.


"Less than a third. We have more than enough men in the Riverlands to continue. This would put us back a day, at most." Were they marching on the Riverlands after the wedding? Martyn kept to himself, though he couldn't help but feel the slight tinge anticipation of battle again, like most men did the night before a tourney. Most would attribute the nervousness to fear of death; if anything it made Martyn feel alive. He snapped back into reality when Tiber placed the letter back down and reached for some parchment, ink and quill.


"Good, we'll continue with the plan then," Tiber replied as he jotted down a note to himself to begin replying to those who've responded to their invitations. Meanwhile something caught Uncle Edwyn's eyes and he picked up another piece of letter. His eyebrows rose as he read it, and by the time the Lord of Lannisport finished, he looked wary, almost worried to Tiber, who tilted his head at his fleet master. "Yes?"


Edwyn handed the letter over. "From Helyon Tarly. The man's very blunt." Tiber took the letter and read over it, before putting it down and taking a breath. Then he smiled.


Martyn tensed, as did Wilhelm and a few others froze. He couldn't blame them, especially if they've never seen this side of Tiber before. Even as his younger brother, Martyn's only ever saw that smile once himself, and it was when they dragged what was left of House Tarbeck and House Reyne out from Tarbeck Hall. Tiber had the same smile on his face as he gave the order and every man, woman and child with the name Tarbeck or Reyne promptly got their heads removed from their bodies, some of which after they been tossed to the men for entertainment. Now it was in front of him again, and the Mountain Lion couldn't help but think of how all their plans for the Riverlands just got tossed out of the window with a single letter. After all, a Lannister always pays his debt.


Tiber crumpled the letter in his hand, before tossing it into the nearest fireplace where it burned into ashes. "I believe Lord Tarly deserve a proper response for his... direct correspondence, no?" As quickly as the smile came, it was gone. The Lord of Casterly Rock called back to the ladies' group. "Leanne? I need to start replying to our guests, especially to the ones that unfortunately can't make it. May I join you later tonight to discuss the issues you brought up before?"


"Of course my lord, I look forward to it," Her voice answered back.


"As do I," Tiber responded before heading out of the room again, followed by his entourage, many of whom needed to shake the shock off of them from what they had just witnessed.


Letter to Barba Tully:

To Lady Barba Tully, Regent of Riverrun,


We are delighted to hear that we will have the pleasure of you and yours at our wedding. We look ever more forward to the happy day where we may all celebrate as one family. Leanne have been especially eager to see her cousins, which she misses dearly. We understand completely about your husband, and we regret the conditions in which he finds himself currently. Please keep us updated on his conditions, as we all wish the best of health to Lord Walder Tully in these troubling times. May the Mother watch over him. Thank you by the way for sending the men back to Golden Tooth. I would like to reassure you they will be properly chastised and taught how to navigate using a map properly. I apologize for this embarrassing display of poor discipline from the Westerlands in this situation, since we do pride ourselves on maintaining proper order and competence within our forces.


Hear Me Roar,


Lord Tiber Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West.

@Hypnos


_________________________________

Tidus Marbrand


The Docks, Lannisport, the Westerlands.



​

Ser Tidus Marbrand, commander of the Lionguards, stood with a letter in his hand as the flagship from the strange fleet approached.


About a day ago, Lord Tiber had received a curious letter from a certain Greyjoy. Many lords and ladies in his situation would've just teared it up and tossed it away for another day, but the Lion of Casterly Rock decided to indulge a bit. After reading it, he turned to his guards and summoned Tidus to his office. His lord was cautious about a potential bluff, especially one from an Ironborn to either scout or sabotage the operations in the Westerlands as a prelude for a massive strike from the Iron Isles. Still he believed the message the new Lord Wilds sent to the Ironborn had been sufficient, even if it was some bandit raid rather than raiders trying to pay the Iron Price. So after receiving his orders, Tidus passed the proper instructions and information to the patrolling fleets off Lannisport's coast, and gathered the necessarily men at the docks to welcome the Kraken of the Lonely Light into Lannisport, something unprecedented in living history.


When the fleet approached the port, nearly twice the number of Lannister Ships surrounded them. The captain heading the defense force had called out instructions for the flagship carrying Haelga Greyjoy to approach the docks with the Lannisport escorts, while the rest remain anchored offshore. The other ships, from the large bottom vessel to the swan ships, must all remained anchored with their sails tied. Should they refuse, attack and/or provoke the surrounding armada, they will be set upon by the Lion Fleet and destroyed. If they required provisions or living supplies, they must contact one of surrounding vessels, and arrangements will be made to open off shore trading between willing suppliers at the docks and the anchored fleet. After a few tense moments, an affirmative reply came back from what appeared to be the Greyjoy's flagship, and, under Lannister escorts, approached the dock assigned for welcoming Lannisport's newest guests.


As the long ship docked, Tidus could see the white flag on top of the sail, as well as the number of men on its decks. It seemed crowded, so no chance of a fire boat attack, he hoped. Still no chances were taken. The docks, while large, swarmed with armed guards lining up around with their weapons out and ready. Several loaded crossbows leveled at every individual on the ship, while several Lannister guards by some brazers even had unlit torches in hand, in case conflict started and they would set the ship alight. In fact Tidus was the only one within twenty meters of this dock that didn't have his weapons out, holding instead the letter sent. With both sides wary of the other, the ship's crew tied it to the docks. Tidus called out to the Ironmen on board, "Welcome to Lannisport! Please leave your weapons on board your vessel and come out. I am Ser Tidus of the Lionguards and I represent Lord Tiber Lannister currently. Which of you is Haelga Greyjoy, Kraken of the Lonely Light?"


@SirDerpingtonIV

Haelga Greyjoy


Lannisport



​

A woman stepped off the longship, taking a stand on the dock, breathing in the air of Lannisport, eyeing the city and the nearby Casterly Rock with admiration. She wore a leather jerkin with the Greyjoy's Kraken stitched into it. She carried a simple, bearded axe at her belt, opting to leave her throwing axes behind. She turned to eye all the Lannister soldiers surrounding her, weapons drawn. "I, am Haelga Greyjoy, Kraken of the Lonely Light," she spoke up, turning to face the "Ser Tidus" whom addressed her. She gave him an admittedly sloppy bow, a solemn look upon her face. "Is Lord Tiber Lannister available to speak at the moment?" she asked, an angular black eyebrow raised slightly. She had Eleri on another of the vessels, a Yi Tish junk to be exact, and set Giaou to watch over her, to entertain the girl with his acting and stories. Behind her on the ship still, stood Bear, his massive bardiche hanging on his back. No one on board had their weapons out, although they were all armed, some in stranger ways than others.


Meanwhile, her ships had agreed to the terms of an off-shore trade, requesting food and fresh water for the soldiers on board, due to the startling shortages they had encountered so far.

 

[Elendithas]

Swain - Rosby



​

"Aye." Swain spoke in a more serious, though just as piratey tone. "Gather up the crew in the keep, I'll get those surroundin' it." He ordered before walking away from Tai and through the gates to the keep. "PUT EVERYTHIN' IN A CART! WE'RE LEAVIN'!" Swain commanded, the majority of the crew following those orders and filling several carts with plunder, a dozen more with the harvest alone. Those that were too busy with the village women to follow orders could stay for all Swain cared. Less men to split the loot with, and it gave some of those that would be coming back the vengeance they desired, ultimately meaning less people dedicating their lives to hunting him down. All in all this was a successful raid. Minimal losses save for the distractions and a nice hoard o' loot to put in the cache.


The men that rode the horses carrying the carts were a little hard on them, but it was needed. If the carts weren't to the ships before the rest of the garrison knew what had happened they wouldn't be able to yar at them as they sailed away with everything they had, an extra insult adding onto killing their families and friends. Swain himself did his equivalent of walking with the carts, as they made their way back to the ship. It was no more than ten miles away, and the garrison were certainly going to be back to Rosby before they were at the ship, though tracking them down and catching up to them would probably take just enough time for the lot to fill the ship with plunder and be on their way.


Swain were on a rowboat back to the ship with the two daughters of the lord Rosby, both of which crying, though to a lesser extent than when they were initially taken. "'Ave you girls ever been sailing?" He asked in his standard mix of menacing and calm tone of voice. "It's a beautiful thing, the sea; once you get out of sight of land, that is. Just you and yer ship, makin' it against all odds." He said, looking out at the ocean. A silence came over everyone on the rowboat before he spoke up again. "Ya know, yer father sold the village out. Came t' me tellin' us that we could have the village so long as we left the keep alone and gave him half o' the plunder." Another pause. "He deserved what he got."


There were no truth in these words, but he knew that it would eat away at the girls' minds until they hated even the thought of their father. Swain actually did believe that their father deserved what he got, however. He allowed Rosby to get into its thoroughly depleted military state, and if not him, it would have been another band of pirates to raid them. They would have done worse in fact. He at least left something for the survivors to go back to. Another band would have razed their homes and fields, leaving nothing for the people left to keep themselves alive with. That's just bad pirating. You cripple your target, not eradicate them. That way you can come back once they've healed.


Now on the ship with the prisoners and plunder in the hold, the garrison were arriving at the shore to see them off just as he predicted. Swain walked to the edge of the ship, pointing at them with his other 'hand' at his hip. "YAR HAR HAR HAR HAR!" He laughed, the entirety of the crew following suit as the helpless garrison simply watched them go. It were something of a tradition to wait for those that would defend the place they were raiding to arrive, laughing as they left them with nothing but their homes standing. Stepping away from the side, he approached Tai Fang, who were doing... something. "Make sure those filth don't touch the prisoners. I have plans for them." He said, regarding the majority of his crew as expendable trash, which really, they were. "TO THE STEPSTONES LADS!" He yelled as he took the helm, steering the ship such that they would take the most direct route to the Stepstones to cash in their haul.

 

[Mion]

Greygarden, Harlaw, The Iron Isles.


POV: Siegfried Harlaw


Before arriving at The Ten Towers Siegfried had first stopped at Greygarden, here he met up with Harron Harlaw, during his time there Harron managed to convince him convinced that the Gaurds and the people of the Ten Towers would take his side, rumour had it that his elder brother had fallen during the disaster which was the battle of the Shield Isles which now mean't he was the heir. Harron had devised a plan to overthrow his father and was able to convince Siegfried to stay at Greygarden while it was carried out just in case, he and his crew were to stay and run Greygarden while Harron and 3 other longships not including Siegfrieds own Red Scythe would go to the Ten Towers.


The Ten Towers, Harlaw, The Iron Isles


POV: Harron Harlaw


For the first time it was Harron that was in command of the Red Scythe, it was large, even larger than some of the boats in the Iron Fleet and it felt good to captain it. Harron had been scheming for a long time but now it was time to see if all the theory worked in practice, with Siegfried back at Greygarden there was no need to hold back, when Harron and his men disembarked he was received by Rodrik Harlaw of the tower Tower of Glimmering and the commander of the guard for the Ten Towers and the majority of the men under his command, they made their way to the main hall and upon entering the first thing they saw was the two giant scythes of silver crossing, the second was underneath them where Lord Harlaw sat with 2 men on either side of them, they had been obviously discussing something but the entrance of Harron and Rodrik almost made the Lord jump out of his seat.


"What in the bloody fuck do you think you are doing here? Begone the two of you!"


Harron took a step forward before speaking with a touch of anger in his voice, he thought that killing the prick would be fun but even now the cUn't got under his skin.


"Lord Harlaw... With the death of your first son that means that your second son Siegfried is now your heir correct?"


While speaking he continued to slowly take a few more steps forward slowly growing closer to Lord Harlaw.


Lord Harlaw spat as he laughed, however that laugh soon turned into a sort of wheezing cough, he still managed to sound amused in his reply though.


"Siegfried my her?! I won't believe my son is dead until I see his body and even then... I would rather have my girl inherit than Siegfried, that is actually what we were just discussing before you idiots came barging in."


"Was it eh?" Harron said in a mocking voice which sounded more like he was looking down on him than acknowledged what he said, by this time Harron and his men had moved up to Lord Harlaw and his four men. Lord Harlaw rose from his seat shaking in what was part anger and part nerves with a red face and began to shout.


"Who the fuck do you think you a-!" unfortunately he never got to finish his sentence as he was interrupted by the doors to the main hall being shut by Rodrick.


As the doors slammed shut Harron unsheathed a knife from his waist and thrust it into the stomach of one of the men standing to the side of Lord Harlaw, the man fell to the ground holding the knife that had entered him with blood spilling through his hands, the three men remaining unsheathed swords of their own and Lord Harlaw almost tripped over his own feet trying to make a bolt for it but his old and weak legs gave way underneath him which made him knock hard into the men next to him pushing them off balance as Harrons men approached them with axes, Harron unsheathed his owns sword and ran at another of the guards as the steel met in the air he kicked the man in the knee causing him to groan in pain, Harron then swung his hard down on the man so hard that it cut right into his shoulder so deep that it would have been dangerous to try and pull out so he instead backed away and scanned the remaining situation. The two remaining men had already been killed and due to them being heavily outnumbered and surprised by the attack they had only lost one man of their own, but it seemed two men were careless and got themselves wounded.


Lord Harlaw had been sat back in the seat that they found him in, only this time he was pleading for his life and there was a lot less arrogance and cursing, Harron bent over to the man he first killed and yanked the knife out of his stomach and cleaned the blood off of it with his sleeve.


"No more speaking, I think we have all had enough of that..." he said before he walked up to him and yanked him up by his hair, he pulled his head back and as he pathetically let out a scream he shoved the knife right into his mouth and out through the back of his throat, as he let go the soon to be dead Lord Harlaw fell to the ground making noises that men were not meant to make all the while blood overflowed him.


With the deed done Harron turned to Rodrik at the door who seemed to approve of what he saw as he had a large shit-eating grin on his face, the smugness kind of got to him but he let that slide.


"I will let you do the honours of writing the letter to Greygarden while we... I don't know bury the bodies and hold the shittiest funeral the Iron Isles has seen, it will only take five minutes."


The Ten Towers, Harlaw, The Iron Isles.


POV: Ashara Harlaw


Ashara had been overlooking her fathers meeting from above when Harron and Rodrik Harlaw entered, as soon as the killing began she fled to her fathers chambers, truth be told she didn't give two shits about her father she was running to grab something else, she ran through the Hallway as fast as possible and when she entered her fathers chambers instantly Ashara smashed open the chest at the end of her fathers bed... In it was the ancestral sword of her House, Nightfall, it was sheathed and wrapped in a cloth which was bound by a leather strap, after grabbing it she ran around to the back exit, not many people used it as it was seen as impolite it was mostly for the cooks. Ashara wouldn't have fled if she didn't hear her name mentioned but who could blame her... she began to round up her crew and headed for her ship the Sea Song, once they made it off of the island she made plans to head over to Great Wyck and try to lay low with the Goodbrothers for a while as she had some friends there, she also planned to write a letter to Siegfried after things cooled down as she had always been on good terms with him for the most part.

 

[Leusis]

Tai Fang - Rosby

​

Tai simply nodded towards his captain as he gave his command, stepping inside the great hall with a odd grace as he seemingly danced through the men who were currently looting and raping everything within. Standing in the center of the hall Tai yelled out "The captain says back to the ships you lambs!". From what he could tell, most of them men immediately dropped what they were doing, or who they were doing and grabbed up their loot to carry it back to the ships. That was except for the men who were currently raping Lady Rosby. "Get moving" Tai spoke calmly to the men, one of them turning as he pulled out his sword "Shut up you lap dog, we're busy!" he said through rotting teeth.


With a swift strike from his bow Tai smacked the mans hand, the pirates sword falling to the floor as he gripped his now broken knuckles. Before the man could even look up at Tai again he was bludgeoned over the head three time, sending him to the floor of the hall. The mans partner in crime pulling up his pants quickly ran off to get back to the ships. The pirate that had questioned him on the other hand was nearly unconscious and Tai took his time breaking each of his limbs, starting with his fingers and toes. He was a sick man who enjoyed the pain of others and saw it as an iffering to his god, but what he enjoyed more was the actual death of men. Grabbing the cutlass the pirate had dropped earlier Tai handed it to Lady Rosby with a smile. "Do what you will with the man, he won't fight back, be sure its slow however". With tears streaming down her face Lady Rosby looked to one of her rapists with a look of fury that Tai had not seen in years.


Chuckling to himself Tai would exit the hall, making sure to watch his back as he wouldn't enjoy a lady sticking him in the back with a sword. Not even bothering to glance back Tai could hear the screams of agony coming from the pirate who had questioned him, his sinister smile returning. It was soon that Tai was back on the ship with Swain, laughing along with the crew at the garrison forces who attempted to chase them down only to watch them escape. Listening to Swain's words he would simply go to where the two young ladies were being held and sit down next to them, his bows in his lap. "Would you two like to hear a story?" he asked with no response. "Well, its a story about your Lord Father. I hear Swain and him made a deal that Swain could raid his coast so long as he gave him half the plunder. Our glorious captain decided a man such as him deserved to be punished. So if you think about it, your father caused everything that happened by being a shit stain of a man". From the looks on the girls faces it seemed they were astounded that Tai knew the same story that Swain had told them as Tai was not on the same boat as Swain. For all they knew this was confirmation that would Swain said was true, when in fact he simply overheard it from his boat when it was told by Swain and Tai simply loved torturing people.


@Elendithas