Valar Morghulis

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  1. Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

    The great war finally ceased its vicious grasp over Westeros. Jon Arryn stood victorious and became king of the realm. The lands of Westeros were at peace, their only worry the far off threat of encroaching Winter. But the fault lines of politics are always unstable. Within the woodwork, unrest was brewing, stirring like a great serpent, rising it's ugly head to destroy the fragile peace of the calm land. With the death of Jon Arryn, everything changed. The stability that the peoples of Westeros strove to protect disappeared like smoke through the open window of a brothel. Jon Arryn's death has ignited a self-interested passion within the Great Houses, as each strives for absolute dominance of the realm. Stark. Lannister. Arryn. Tully. Baratheon. Greyjoy. Bolton. Tyrell. Targaryen. To curb the possibility of incited violence, these Great Houses founded the Westerosi High Council. But each house, despite an outward appearance of trust and acceptance toward the other, often is planning to stab the other in the throat. This is the story of Westeros. This is the Game of Thrones.
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  2. NAME: Larus Targaryen
    LOCATION: One of the roads to King's Landing
    EMOTIONAL STATE: Bored/ Upset

    I don't even see the point of me having to come here." Larus sighed looking out the window of his wagon as they traveled along the road towards the High council meeting. Personally he found this whole idea to be rather pointless because he knew that none of these snakes were all going there to just talk with one another, but rather bring up some age old feuds, claims to land long forgotten, or try to instigate a war. Sighing he wondered why his sister asked him to come along with her as a bodyguard when she was quite the skilled warrior in her own right. "Oi coachman how much longer until we reach King's Landing?" He slid down in seat annoyed at the reply of a few more hours and a day at most. "There better be some beautiful handmaidens there or I think I may very well fall upon my own blade in boredom." To past the time he though back to the event that led him to this point.


    "Now Larus now that you have finally decided to grace us with your presence you may fulfill your duties and inform us of the state of our armies." The king spoke with clear annoyance in his tone. Larus simply rolled his eyes before speaking. "Our troops stand a little over a 20,000 strong my lord," he began sitting up a little now, "As for their equipment well lets just say we might as well be fighting with sticks for swords and plates for shields, and the fact that they lack experience does them no favors." To be honest he expected this as much because their troops were mainly composed of farmers and other low-borns that had volunteered to fight in the army. The king nodded at the news and was silent for a moment before speaking again, "Well if this is true then we shall have to form an alliance at the High council meeting happening in a few days," he paused for a moment before having a wicked smile, "And I want you and your siblings to go in my stead."
    *End Flashback*

    "Bastard probably had this one planned for months."
    #2 Blitzfang43, May 24, 2015
    Last edited: May 24, 2015
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  3. NAME: Einar Greyjoy
    LOCATION: On the deck of "The Gray Kraken"

    "ROW YOU MAGGOTS: DO YOU WANT TO FEED THE FUCKIN' DEEP DO YA?" The voice of one Einar Greyjoy set the teeth of new recruits rattling. He was a massive person in the flesh, and the master of the Gray fleet was not one you took lightly. Standing in the wind like it wasn't trying to rip his skin of his flesh, the man seem undisturbed by man or elements. He just raised his voice and lifted his hand. "GET THOSE OARS INTO THE WATER. OR DO YOU WANT TO SIT DOWN WITH MY NEPHEW?" And people would move with vigor and purpose. The head of the fleet was moving with a purpose, on orders of his Brother, the current Reaper of the Iron Isles, he had started sinking vessels that heading with goods for the Starks. He had raided ports and he had put the North in a naval-logistic strangle hold.

    His burden was to build the cornerstone of their power structure. To feed the isles with what they needed bulk up. To build more ship, forge more swords, feed more men. Peace times were only preludes. And if anyone thought otherwise, they were fooling themselves.
    #3 Hellis, May 24, 2015
    Last edited: May 27, 2015
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  4. Name: Geffori Stark
    Location: Winterfell
    Emotional State: Concerned

    Geffroi sat down alongside the City Walls, he had a messenger raven on his arm. It was holding some paper, Geffroi took it from the Raven and then let the Raven fly off to do other things. He then opened and read the paper, it was the reports of Stark shipments. More specifically it noted that not all the boats were arriving at their destinations, on time. It was indeed possible that the waters were rough, and therefore were slowing down or destroying some of the ships but that seemed unlikely. The waters showed no signs of acting up anytime soon, and this was also shortly after Jon Arryns death. Which meant many of the houses would be jumping on the opportunity to strengthen themselves and weaken others. Geffori sighed knowing this meant a risk of war, however small. Regardless he stood up and made his way towards the King's Chambers, where hopefully Lyam was so he could report the information.
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  5. NAME: Raynor Martell
    LOCATION: Going up the Kingsroad to Kingslanding
    EMOTIONAL STATE: Calm yet eager

    'The Kingsroad is usually packed but today it was unusually empty.' Raynor Martell thought as he looked down the road.Then again it was quite possible they were simply avoiding him and his party. Behind him sat leaders and heirs of many of the great houses of Dorne ((imagine a similar routine to the one Oberyn Martell took)) and their guards. All together they added up to around 300 swords and lances, among them about 50 knights. It was an impressive gathering to say the least, his father was cautious and told him to bring a gathering large enough to possibly get him out of kingslanding if things went south but not so many that they would be overly threatening. Never the less he could vouch for every fighter in their party, if things went to blades nothing but an army would have much of a chance to stop them or so he believed. He wondered if everyone gathering had such a guard or his father was being overly cautious. "Or perhaps probably cautious." He said out loud drawing several curious looks from his guards. If they didn't have such a guard this would be a good time to kill the best of the other great houses and take advantage. Then again that wouldn't line up with his fathers thinking and if he claimed he forgot there would be many lords to remind him. "Maybe the old man knows me well after all." He said with a grin as he suddenly brought his horse to a gallop down the road, his guard used to it by this point just set off after him with full haste.
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  6. Name: Lyam Stark
    Location: Winterfell
    Emotional State: Concerned; Angered.

    The news of his shipments was a dire one. The grain he had ordered to be shipped had sunk to the bottom of the Ocean, where only the Drowned God would use it to feed. He had a few Houses in mind for this blatant attempt at sparking confrontation. The Lannisters... or the Grejoys. He would have to bring it up at the next council meeting. The war had indeed brought strife and hardship onto all the Westerosi people, but there was no need to sink the ships of another Great House, yet, in order to strengthen their own. Geffroi had arrived in the Great Hall, and Lyam smiled gratefully to his uncle. "Uncle! It is good to see you in such a dire time as this." He exclaimed, motioning his uncle to come to him. "We must formulate a battle plan to curb this offensive against our navy. After I return from the Great Council meeting, I wish to have my own council with the maesters and you, one of my most loyal brethren. Please make sure that it happens, uncle. I don't want to have to reprimand my family."
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  7. Name: Cenric Tully
    Location: Leaving Riverrun and heading to Kings Landing
    Mood: Uninspired, neutral

    @Arcadia Lumina (I'll allow you to decide the inn keeps reaction. If you don't want to I'll just go with he/she agrees)

    As Cenric and his personal guard galloped through the fields that surrounded the city of Riverrun, the young man let out a forlorn sigh as he looked back at his home. While he knew he had a duty to fulfill he couldn't help but wish he didn't have to ride out alone to Kings Landing. He'd never liked the city, always glad that he didn't have to have personal interactions with the leaders of certain houses at the council meetings - that was his father's job. However, today was different. With the death of the King, the council had to meet once more for an emergency meeting, one that the House Tully would be late to. Carrying the letter of apology in his pouch and serving as his father's intermediary for the time, Cenric looked at the path ahead with no joy, only a flicker in his heart that he knew this had to be done.

    Before long the group had reached the crossroads which connected the River Road to the Kings Road. "Almost half way there," Cenric cited in a relieved tone.

    "My lord, 'tis growing late. We should seek shelter in the inn," his guard captain said, riding up alongside him. Cenric gave the man a nod in response.

    "Make it so that the men are properly seen to. I doubt the inn can accommodate 50 armed men and I'm not sure they'd want to. We'll request permission to make camp in the field out back."

    "Of course, my lord. Right away." With that, the captain guided the men towards the rear of the inn, only a handful remaining with Cenric.

    "Right," he began with a smile, "Let's see about getting a roof and a cold drink shall we?"

    As the small group entered, the inn was loud and brimming with activity. Many of the patrons glanced in the direction of the group but soon returned to their drinks. Stepping up to the counter, Cenric ordered a stout ale for himself and his three companions and began to negotiate for the right to camp. Whether the innkeep would allow him or not was to be seen.
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  8. Geffroi tried to ease caution into his nephew warning "Easy Lyam. Yes war is a risk, but if we march straight to war we will be seen as the aggressors. Something the enemy can very easily use to gain the support of other noble houses". However, Geffroi also didn't like the idea of them simply waiting and losing men in the meantime so he added "But we would be cruel to simply let our own people continue to die from this. I suggest we increase the protection of future convoys, and give the crews clear orders that in the case of attack they are to flee and come back to Winterfell as soon as possible. That will allow us to truly identify our foe, and give us something to point to for if it comes to war... However, if you can resolve this while at the Great Council that would be preferable, the less bloodshed we have the better". Then taking in what his nephew Liam said about running his own council Geffroi got a warm grin on his face before replying "Though having our own council is excellent idea my Lord, I shall get started on it as soon as your safe departure from Winterfell is seen to". He pressed his closed fist against his chest and tilted his head down as he said this, showing respect for his Nephew and his decision.
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  9. [​IMG]

    NAME: Millicent Storm (Of House Baratheon)
    In the throne room of King's Landing

    “Lady Emren.” The homely brunette groaned and rolled over into the heavy bedding. “Lady Emren you need to get up.” “Go plough yourself Millicent!” Millicent Storm, who should have been Millicent Baratheon, rolled her eyes at her cousin. Millicent was fully dressed in a lovely, but subtle black gown. As a bastardess it would be inappropriate for her to proudly display her mother’s house colors of gold and black, but that didn’t stop her from wearing one of the other. “I suppose you’ll just miss Prince Valor then. You know, your older brother and my cousin? He’s on his way here for the summit.” Emren cracked an eye and glared at her beautiful cousin. “Is that my gown?” Millicent glanced down at his innocently. “You told me you’d outgrown it and to get rid of it so I had a tailor take it in for me. As your lady in waiting it’s only right I get your cast offs.” Emren growled and buried her face back in the bed. “When will he be here?” Milicent lazily glanced at the window, gauging the time by the sun. “Probably…oh I don’t know. An hour?”

    A bovine bellow broke out throughout King’s Landing. Millicent hid her smirk behind a look of concern. “AN HOUR? How am I supposed to be ready for court in an hour?!” Millicent watcher her cousin frantically paw through her wardrobe. “You were sleeping so peacefully My Lady. I didn’t want to disturb you.” Emren scowled at her. “You’re trying to sabotage me. I’m going to look a mess while me bastard cousin looks a damn princess.” Millicent frowned and flashed an innocent little look. “My lady I would never.” “Shut up and help me dress you useless tart!” Millicent glanced in the doorway where a servant of the castle stood, eyebrows raised at Emren’s behavior. With any luck, that servant would speak of Emren’s atrocious behavior to the servants of the other houses. The servant set down a full basin, bowed, and scurried out. Emren’s face turned a swift shade of violet and another agitated growl left her mouth.

    In the span of an hour the two were down in the throne room, awaiting the arrival of the noble houses and to spend their day chatting and socializing and watching the general going ons of the court. Emren looked clean and well dressed but not spectacular as they hadn’t had time to apply the cream she usually used to cover the redness of her throat and chest. “I think you look like a beautiful exotic bird, Emren. A red throated sparrow.” If looks could kill, Millicent would have expired long ago. “I’m going to find some breakfast, you cunt.” Millicent watched Emren storm away with a look of pleasure on her features. Stupid heffer, she didn’t need help finding a husband. Her father could make a match without effort. Emren was the eldest daughter of the head of House Baratheon, any mischief Millicent pulled wasn’t hurtful in the long run. But, here at court, downplaying Emren only helped her chances of finding a suitable husband for herself. Her uncle would be forced to acknowledge her if she had a worthy nobleman calling after her.

    She took a seat at her favorite window seat and watched and waited. She heard guards murmuring of Dorne’s banners being on the road. They’d be here soon which meant many of the other nobles would be close behind.
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  10. NAME: Raynor Martell
    LOCATION: At the entrance to Kingslanding
    EMOTIONAL STATE: Mildly disgusted with the city but interested to get a measure of other lords

    The Kingsroad was by far the fastest way to Kingslanding and thanks to his father's insistence they left early as to arrive at the same time of the others rather than make the other nobles wait for over a week of travel threw Dorne and the Reach they arrived at Kingslanding well before midday. The group with him had pulled ahead of the rest of his guard who after an hour of hard riding slowed to a normal pace while he took off with a few. He knew every man of his guard but with him were his closest friends. The Sword in the Morning Ser Cedric Dayne, Brynnan and David the White Rose of House Yronwood, Corban of House Allyrion, Grennan of House Dalt, and Jacor Sand the bastard of House Wyl along with a few guards of no noticeable names like the lords but just as honored and trustworthy as the rest. His first opinion was even before the he could see the city was that it stunk like hose shit left out all morning. Kingslanding was by no means clean and so many people living together did create quite the stench but even so it made his nose wrinkle in disgust.

    When he got to the city he was let out without question, he was one of the members of the 7 great houses with many of the great houses of Dorne behind him so they showed him a certain amount of reverence that only made him roll his eyes. He disliked all the wide eyed looks he got from the guards and citizens of the city. Wide eyed looks were proper for children, not for grown adults. He rode past them without a second glance though a few of his bannerman played the role of valiant knights as they rode past. Lordship was a s much acting and curtseys then leading and fighting but he wasn't lord yet.

    He rode through the city into the main castle. He looked at the walls which towered up above him and this time they had to stop this time to give their purpose. Not one for formalities he let Cedric explain as his gaze raked the castle. His eyes roamed up to see a girl looking out the window. He tilted his head up curiously to meet her eyes and smiled.
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  11. NAME: Valor Baratheon
    LOCATION: Near King's Landing

    "Lord Valor we shall arrive at King's Landing in an hour's time." Valor smiled at the news relayed to him by one of his bodyguards as they all galloped along the famous King's road. It would be an major understatement to say Valor was excited to be one of the chosen family members allowed to attend this new High Council meeting to represent his great house. More so than anything he looked forward to seeing his sister and cousin since he missed the chance to speak with them before their departure. At the time he had been preaching to the masses about the one true god, The Lord of Light R'hllor, and gained many new followers to the faith after showing restraint and humbleness while being insulted by followers of the seven. After returning that day his father chose him as well to head towards King's Landing as a sort of lesson on how to deal with politics and other nobles outside his family.

    *One hour later*

    "Ah look men the city," Valor called out spotting the gates to the rather large citadel and spurred his horse faster which made his bodyguards sigh at the youthful excitement of their lord. Upon entering Valor couldn't focus on just one thing as he watched the people move around from place to place. He simply waved at them all smiling as he now understood why his sister would like to come to a rather interesting city like this one. "My lord we really should make haste to the meeting so we are not late," one of the soldiers advised, but Valor had already struck up a conversation with the locals about the Red Religion meaning that he was gonna be awhile.
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  12. [​IMG]

    NAME: Illia The Red Priestess
    LOCATION: Accompanying Prince Valor in King's Landing
    EMOTIONAL STATE: Calm, proud

    King’s Landing was a mire of filth and desperation. All around Prince Valor’s escort stood the hungry, the sick and women painted show they sold their bodies. It brought a harder look than usual to the young priestess’ face as she rode among the Baratheon’s men, just behind Prince Valor himself. On his side sat the mighty Lightbringer and gazing on the blade helped her to drag her eyes away from the oppression all around them. This city needed to be purged by flame, to have all its impurities melted away until only what was honoring to R’hllor remained.

    But the time for that would come later. Illia stopped her horse when Valor began to speak with some of the locals, love for The Lord of Light evident on his handsome face. Truly, this young man would be R’hllor’s blade. Nothing would stand in his way so long as Illia drew breath. All the same, there was little time for conversions. She guided her horse to stand beside his with her knees. “My Prince, your zeal marks you as beloved by R’hllor but we will have plenty of time to enlighten these people once this summit is complete. Several houses have already arrived or are nearly here, we must show our strength of presence.” She smiled, barely, and touched his arm. “Besides that, your sister and cousin await your arrival.” Whether he refused or complied, she waited beside him.
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  13. NAME: Valor Baratheon
    LOCATION: King's Landing
    He turned around as Illia placed her hand upon his arm and smilied, "Yes my dear you are correct we should be off now for my sister is known to have little patience for tardy people." After bidding the people farwell he spurred his horse forward as the guards gave Illia a slight thank you for getting him back on track and road after him. It didn't take them long to arrive at the main castle which he stopped to stare at with wonder at such a finely built palace. "One of these days I hope my home shall be as great as this something you can just marvel at for hours upon end," Valor spoke aloud mainly to himself as he took in the air the regal structure gave off before jumping off his horse. "Well then come along men don't want to be late now," he said walking off first not waiting for his guards to accompany him first.

    NAME: Larus Targaryen
    LOCATION: One of the roads to King's Landing

    "Come on boys you can keep up can't ya," Larus cried out to the soldiers that were trying to keep pace with their lord now that he had gotten on his horse after he grew tired of being cooped up in that wagon all day. He decided that riding there at his own pace was sure to get them there faster which was not wrong as he spotted the city in the distance only a short while away from them. He simply laughed and asked if Mariane could go a bit faster which seemed to be a yes as she picked up speed. "Good at this rate should only be another 30 more minutes until I get to see all those beautiful women at the court," he thought now even more driven to get there early so that he could get a good view of his possible partners to make this meeting actually entertaining.
    #13 Blitzfang43, May 25, 2015
    Last edited: May 25, 2015
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  14. NAME: Bjarke Stark
    LOCATION: Winterfell
    @Arcadia Lumina @Gen. Gwazi Magnum PI

    Bjarke Stark sat on the back of his heavy black warhorse, its coat was thick and it had white spots around it. He looked back at the stag he had caught that was on the back of his horse into the Winterfell walls. The beast was large, it'd certainly be good for a few days. Bjarke saw his father Gefroi walking towards the Great Hall, where Lyam would no doubt be sitting. Bjarke guided his horse to the stables, he slid off the saddle and tied his horse to one of the posts. He grabbed the stags back legs in his right hand and pulled the big beast off his horse, he brought it over his shoulders and grabbed its front legs in one hand. He squatted slightly and then sprung up to reposition the beast on his shoulders. He walked towards the kitchens and climbed the stairs with his prey on his back, he walked in and slammed it on one of the tables. He heard the cooks sigh and some of the girls screech from the sound.

    "Bjarke, must you hunt such tough animals to cook?" One of the older male cooks said. Bjarke simply smiled and grabbed a roll from a bowl off of the table.

    Bjarke walked down the stairs and crossed to where he had seen his father walking to. He crossed the main yard and nodded at some of the men about the castle. He walked into the Great Hall and saw his father and his cousin Lyam. Lyam always looked so young, but perhaps it was just his gift. Bjarke saw his father put his fist to his chest and bow his head, something was happening.

    "Cousin!" Bjarke said happily, "Hello Father. What have I walked in on?"
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  15. Name: Loren Lannister
    Location: Casterly Rock
    Emotional State: Amused

    "How did you find the work of collecting taxes? You were certainly effective, at least."

    Loren gave his father a lopsided smile. "It wasn't without its pleasures, but on the whole I think I prefer more important work." He sat back in his chair, letting his eyes wander round the cavernous room that served as Lord Tyrek Lannister's study. The decorations strolled right past opulent and settled on gaudy, all crimson and gold with nary a spot of other color for the eye to rest on. He understood the need to maintain familial pride on one's home, but the study had always struck him as overblown, worthy more of a petty lord who needed to remind himself and everyone coming to visit that he was important and powerful. Looking back to his father waiting with poorly disguised eagerness, Loren couldn't help but think perhaps the need for self-affirmation wasn't the sole domain of lesser lords. "I presume you have something more important for me?"

    Tyrek, as always, seemed surprised when his second son guessed his words. Simplicity of thought wasn't a good trait for a powerful lord, but good counsel and having lots of gold could make up for all sorts of deficiencies. "Yes, a diplomatic mission. Or rather two related missions."

    It took but a few glances at the desk for Loren to find the obvious clues. As usual, he played into his father's halting way of speaking; it was something the man apparently learned from a now dead relative, maintaining silence in order to make the other person feel the need to fill the void and thus come to you in a somewhat subservient manner. Tyrek hadn't grasped that this tactic was meant to get nervous people to say more than they should, not to control talk between family members. Alas, there was nothing to be done but humor the old lord and pretend toward mind reading powers once more. "To the Greyjoys of Pyke, yes?"

    "How--" Tyrek shook his head, grinning, clearly proud of his gifted son. "Yes. Eden has made it clear that we lack naval power, and should this council nonsense fall apart we will be in some kind of trouble without ships. I trust his judgement in this matter, so I want you to go forge a deal with the Greyjoys. Better to have them on our side than raiding our coasts, at any rate."

    Loren laughed, shaking his head. "First tax collection, now diplomacy? What happened to the simple days where I only needed to run pouches of gold to certain ladies of the city and keep silent about them?" He waved away his father's response before he got a word out. "No, I'm not complaining, I will do whatever is best for the family. Why not send uncle Eden himself though, or my dear brother Tybolt? Eden could handle it, and surely the heir of the house would make a better representative than the lowly second son. Why send me?"

    He found his expectations of some deep answer completely unfounded, which should not have come as a surprise. Tyrek shrugged in response. "Eden said you'd be good at it and Tybolt is off to King's Landing to represent us in the Great Council. It just makes sense."

    "I see." Loren almost said something unkind about Eden doing all the thinking for House Lannister these days, but he held it back as he always did with such thoughts of his family. No good could come from animosity between family, and truth be told he looked forward to trying his hand at diplomacy. He pushed his chair back and stood, offering his father a slight bow. "It shall be my honor. Uncle arranged for a boat, and the maester has drawn up papers with terms, yes?" Tyrek simply nodded, getting that look on his face again that meant he was being stubbornly silent to draw out further words. "Then there is no reason to waste time, I suppose. I'll be out with the tide, and soon the lion and the kraken will be allies." And here's hoping they down drag us down into the deeps, he added in the privacy of his own head as he turned on heel and left the room, off to gather supplies and pack for his trip to the inhospitable Iron Islands.
    #15 Jorick, May 26, 2015
    Last edited: May 28, 2015
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  16. Name: Cenric Tully
    Location: Kings Road to Kings Landing
    Emotional State: Relieved

    It didn't take much coercion to get the inn keep to agree. As long as the soldiers didn't cause trouble for any of the cattle or patrons then she was fine with it. Cenric bade his humble thanks, finished his ale and headed out to the campsite which was well underway with its construction. Cenric spotted his captain heading out of the crowd towards him, hands on his hips and an inquisitive look in his eyes. "So," he began, "What the innkeep have to say?"

    "As long as we don't cause trouble we're free to camp. Also, I paid for a keg of ale for the men. It'll be good to get their spirits up before we head into the jaws of hell." The captain gave a breathy chuckle.

    "You really dreading Kings Landing that much?" he asked curiously.

    "Some say it's more dangerous than a battlefield and I wouldn't relish the thought of going to either."

    "Aye, there is that. It'll be fine, m'lord. We're here to protect you."

    "Thank you, Aldus," Cenric said warmly, a smile on his face, "Anyway, there's a keg on its way with your name on it. Enjoy it. I'm going to find a place to rest."

    The night went by without much incident. A couple of the men got a little rowdy but their escapades remained confined to the camp so all was well. As morning came, the camp was dismantled and after breakfast the group continued on their way south, down the Kings Road. Another day's ride and another camp site and they rode proudly up to the gates of Kings Landing. Cenric tried to hide his trepidation well but that disdain for the place could only be hidden so much and a smile wasn't the most wonderful mask out there.

    Entering the city confirmed as much as he had thought about the place. It looked pretty; the buildings were beautiful and weather was sublime. Alas, appearances are skin deep. There was an aura about the place that screamed danger - whether that was just Cenric's paranoia or not he wasn't sure. Before he got waylaid in his thoughts, a representative of the court was spotted making a straight line for the group. "Greetings men of House Tully!" he called out in a grandiose tone of voice, "I anticipate your Lord will be along shortly?" Cenric dismounted from his horse, removing his riding gloves and walked towards the representative.

    "My apologies, you will have to inform the court my father will be late. There are matters in Riverrun that require his attentions so he has sent me in his stead." Cenric gave a short bow in accompaniment with his apology, clearing pleasing the representatives ego.

    "Well, I suppose it can't be helped," he responded, "I shall inform the court immediately. Do you need assistance with finding your rooms?"

    "That won't be necessary," Cenric said disarmingly, waving a dismissive hand. As the representative scurried away, Cenric turned back to Aldus. "Make sure the men are given proper residence, good food and water." The middle aged captain nodded. "I have a feeling this will be a long trip," Cenric grumbled to himself staring up at the clear blue sky.
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  17. NAME: Russel Pyke
    LOCATION: On board "The Big Iron Log"

    Truth be told, Russel had been away from the sea for little over two weeks, scouting the North was a much bigger task than he first imagined. He hated the North with a passion but this was duty, as a Greyjoy to respect his family's orders. There was not much to learn that he had already guessed; they were not expecting the Greyjoys to attack so suddenly and in such a way. This pleased Russel, going on the offensive and taking it to those "Wolf Fuckers" as he called them, he was pleased by this chain of events. He left the his quarters and moved onto the deck, his crew sailing away From the mainland into the ocean waves. A few days ago he had received word from his father, an arrangement for a meeting between Lannisters and Greyjoys. He had never met a Lannister before, he had always heard that a "Lannister always pays his debts" and they also shit gold. He wondered what this meeting was about, he had his guesses but at this moment his mind wandered to more present matters.

    "Right, get those bastard northerners here will ya?" Russel ordered some of his men. They headed down below, sounds of some sort of struggle could be heard until it was snuffed out quickly. His men brought up the prisoners; a farmer who worked the fields in the north, a trader and a northerner claiming to be a soldier of The Stark's banner. Russel swung his warhammer to his side whistling the "Song of The Gray Scourge" eyeing up the three prisoners. "So, I heard an interesting rumour, one about the Greyjoy Sisters whilst I made trips to the North. You." Russel pointed to the trader, his men lifted him up to stand. "You've heard them too right?" the Trader pleaded as much as he could muster. "Please me lord! I beg you, plea-" Russel at that minute swung his warhammer ,with ferocity, down at the left knee of the trader, snapping the bone and breaking it easily. The Trader screamed in agony, his cries carried on the wind. "Wrong answer! They are known as the "Ironborn Whores" am I correct?" he asked, looking at the other prisoners, their heads shaking in agreement."You see, I'm their big brother, I'm suppose to protect them from filthy wolf fuckers like you! and it makes me want cave your heads in, heck even flay the skin off of you, got it?" Russel stated, his voice holding a low, threatening tone in his breath. "I'm wondering to myself though, what's your favourite tool to please those stinking dogs you call women, in the north. Your hand or your cock? well if you don't tell my men what you know of The Starks, I'll remove both hands and your favourite pole with my hammer here" he explained, holding the Warhammer up, his face twisted with deranged excitement. "Take them back down and get something out of them" Russel ordered once more, the prisoners dragged off down below the deck.
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  18. @HellHoundWoof

    Geffroi right after giving the fist sign of respect to his Nephew Lyam heard his son Bjarke's voice. He looked up to see him entering the room, asking about what he had missed. He gave his son a warm smile and said "Matters of potential War. We've had some of our supply ships never make it to their destination, which suggests either a big storm or pillaging. And if it's pillaging that means either Bandits, or the other houses. And since almost no Bandit can handle the Starks that leaves to suggest another house, especially considering the recent death of Jon Arryn. But don't let this worry you too much for now, we do our selves no favors getting scared and pointing fingers". He paused for a moment to let the information sink before he continued by asking "However do you have any thoughts on this situation?", hoping to give his Son a bit of an exercise in the art of strategizing. Even if they already had a plan, there's no harm in having his son theorize and practice said skills himself.
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  19. Name: Annalys Hill
    Location: Currently entering King's Landing
    Mood: Exhausted, Sore, and slightly Amazed
    Interactions: None

    How long had they been traveling? She had lost count of the days and nights that had been spent wondering the Goldroad. Her body ached despite the frequent stops at various inns that littered the path. Annalys couldn't recall another time when she had left Lannisport. If she had, it would have been when she was an infant. No, this was probably her first adventure away from her home. The journey had been awe-inspiring for a short time. Small-talk with an older woman had passed the hours quite quickly and the sounds of children fighting with each other on whose turn it was to walk ahead had been entertaining for a brief moment. Now, Annalys just wanted to be away from it all. 'I've spent a lifetime on this road,' she thought with a sigh, 'Will it ever end?'

    At the rate that they were going, it must have been about two months since the start of their travels. The group had been relatively large at the start, sporting somewhere among 30 people. An assortment of men, women, and children but none of high-birth. As the time had passed, many would branch off at various forks in the road, or choose to stay at an inn for longer than what the group would allow. If she were to count their group now, which she wasn't going to, she would probably say there was about 15 left. Maybe.

    The leader of the ragtag group of followers had stayed the same, however, a great burly man with a scar across his left eye and a beard that hid half of his face. Despite his intimidating appearance, Annalys found him quite favorable to look upon. He was a story-teller and during the evenings would speak of the Doom of Valyria. It was always the same story, but his enjoyment of telling it was obvious within his large movements of acting out certain "scenes". She supposed she would miss that after the journey.

    Soon the Goldroad became more crowded with individuals. Some were seated to the side of the path, attempting to sell goods to the passersby. The scent of peaches made Annalys's mouth water. Her bright eyes scanned the vendors and finally found the merchant just ahead of them. She gave him a smile and as the gap between them closed, Annalys inquired about the price.

    "Seven coppers? You should be ashamed of yourself trying to take advantage of people like that."

    "Seven coppers."

    "I could buy two apples for that price."

    "Look, girl. Either buy a peach for seven coppers or starve while you're in King's Landing. I can promise you this is the cheapest price."

    She glared at him, sucking in her cheeks. Making up her mind, she turned away and started off. Annalys had hoped he would call after her, offering a lower price, but it never happened. It was all soon forgotten, though, as she caught sight of the city that she had been waiting for. For a moment she was overtook by awe. A thick wall surrounded the city, and in front of her loomed a large gate that slightly resembled a lion to her imagination. "The Lion Gate," she whispered, almost forgetting how tired and sore she was from the journey. Soon she would be in her new home with new opportunities that wouldn't have suited her in Lannisport. There was no hiding her happiness Annalys stepped into the city.
  20. Liliyana Tyrell
    Location: King's Landing, Red Keep
    Emotional state: Calm and collected, disinterested even

    Fourty days have passed since she left Highgarden. Fourty days on this dusty road with company as entertaining as a group of amateur jesters. If her father, so taken with hunts, did not get gravely wounded during one of those foolish events as if hurrying to his grave, causing her oldest brother, Deonte, to stay behind and take over the head of the house duties, it would have been Jaremy Tyrell treading down the Kingsroad representing their House. Alas, it fell onto Liliyana's shoulders, as the second oldest child of House Tyrell, to travel to King's Landing. She worried for her father, of course, fearing that once she would receive a raven that the Seven have claimed her fahter's soul. But duty was duty no matter the circumstances and at times like these even the eloquent words of the house 'Growing Strong' have proved to be true. "Stay strong, Liliyana. For the House. For us." Her mother said after all as they were saying farewells and the blessed child promised to follow such guidance.

    Sliding the blinds from a window to look outside, Liliyana saw they were approaching the Dragon Gate. Her unimpressed eyes drifted over the sight, making her wonder for a moment what demon possessed the maker to create such an eyesore. 'I suppose the Targaryens were not only bad rulers, but aesthetics too,' she thought to herself, letting the blind fall back, her procession entering the city without any problem.

    Not long after, the life of the city seeped into the enclosed space as her entourage continued determinedly towards their destination. "Lady Liliyana, we have arrived," came the voice of one of the attendants that accompanied the calvalcade as he opened the door for her. "It was just about time. I swear if I were to spend one more moment in that wooden box, I'd be the next crazy aristocrat for the Westeros to deal with." Despite the nature of her words, there was no malice in them, just the usual moderate sarcasm that Liliyana was known for. As she stepped down from her carriage and into the atmosphere of the Red Keep, she noticed other houses having already arrived. At least, House Tyrell did not seem to be the last one to arrive to this 'great' gathering. Fairly soon, a page robed in royal colours made his way to them, bowing and taking in a breath to welcome yet another honoured guest.

    "Spare me the niceties, boy. I know what you're about to say. Instead, make yourself useful and show me to wherever we have been told to go." After the first few surprised blinks, the page understood the request and with yet another bow began to lead the way. The captain of the guard and a few others joined close behind her whilst the rest started their duties in finding the rooms and making sure everything was ready for whenever it needed to be ready for. As they made their way, Liliyana's attentive eyes studied her surroundings in the most unobtrusive way. It was time to see, hear, listen and observe in ways that could mean the subtlest difference between rise or fall.
    #20 The Returner, May 29, 2015
    Last edited: May 29, 2015
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