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House Martell
~ Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken ~
Seat: Sunspear
Current Lord: Ulrick Martell
Region: Dorne
Title: Prince of Dorne, Lord of Sunspear, Lord of Sandship
Heir: Arron Martell (24)
Other Family Members: Ashara Martell (23), Gulian Martell (22), Myria Martell (21), Qoren Sand (20), Cyrenna Sand (20), Nymeria Sand (18)
* * * * *
Ulrick Martell
Born: 196 AC (age 40)
The youngest of two brothers, Ulrick Martell was never meant to rule – something which even the gods seem to have taken into account. Whereas his elder brother Mallor was a tall, broad-shouldered and talented fighter who won friends as easily as he won tourneys, Ulrick was bookish, slight of frame and almost painfully shy. Their parents died when they were only toddlers and their grandfather, the Prince of Dorne, was a distant presence at best – all they had was each other, and as young boys only two years apart they were incredibly close.
This would not last.
Growing up, Mallor was the sun and Ulrick his shadow – he worshipped his brother as everything he wanted to be but never could, and attempted to copy him in practically everything he did. For his part, Mallor increasingly saw his younger brother as an annoying pup who dogged his heels. Contemptuous of his lack of identity and weak disposition, Mallor and his favored courtiers bullied Ulrick mercilessly throughout adolescence. On one such occasion when Ulrick was twelve, he refused to fight in a sparring match in favor of finishing a book – Mallor exclaimed loudly that if he wanted to act like a girl he should dress as one too. He forced him to walk the corridors of Sunspear dressed in fine Myrish lace and curtsey to giggling maidens as they passed by, a traumatic experience which marked a turning point in their relationship.
In time Ulrick’s idolization of his brother turned to fear and hatred; he became a sullen and unsmiling youth, spiteful and quick to anger. He retreated into his studies, isolating himself from the rest of the court – while the other noble sons played in the Water Gardens, chased girls and sparred in the courtyards with blunted spears, Ulrick read every book he could get his hands on. His only real friend, Maester Franklyn, thought him brilliant and urged him to forge a chain at the Citadel so that he might lend his intelligence and aptitude for learning to one of the Great Houses of Westeros, or perhaps even to the king himself. However, Ulrick’s grandfather refused to allow it – as the second-in-line to inherit Sunspear until Mallor bore a son or daughter, Ulrick needed to remain free to marry and sire children. That night Mallor found his brother crying and beat him till he was bloody, reminding him that men of House Martell do not weep.
In 212 AC, Mallor and Ulrick’s grandfather died of a wasting sickness, elevating eighteen-year-old Mallor to the position of Prince of Dorne. Both brothers being unwed, two marriages to vassal houses quickly followed. Mallor married the daughter of Lord Dayne, widely considered the most beautiful maiden in Dorne – within the year she was pregnant with his child. Ulrick’s chosen bride, Eleanor Fowler, a yellow-haired girl of sixteen with bright blue eyes, a slender frame and a quick smile, was also renowned as a great beauty – Ulrick, never popular with girls, was smitten with her and thanked his brother earnestly for the match. Theirs was a pleasant marriage, if not especially happy or passionate, and Ulrick was the better for it; with encouragement from his wife he even became a decent hand with the spear and shield, no longer a martial embarrassment to his House. He learned to smile and laugh, and when the first of his four children were born – a sandy-haired boy named Arron – he thought that perhaps he had been wrong to hate the brother who had given him such a love.
However, when Ulrick was twenty-two he made a discovery that would mark his life forever – his wife, his confidant and partner of seven years, the mother of his children, had been frequenting his brother’s bed since she first came to court for their wedding. Enraged at this enormous betrayal, Ulrick’s strangled Eleanor to death in their own bed but was discovered by Sunspear guards before he could attempt the same with his brother. The murder was covered up in the interests of avoiding war with House Fowler, though Ulrick (along with his children) was sent to the Free Cities in what was understood, privately, to be permanent exile.
Ulrick spent years traveling extensively in the Free Cities, where he indulged his passion for accumulating knowledge – though now it was with vengeance in mind. The city which he found himself drawn to the most was Lys, where he learned much about poisons and eventually became involved in trade. During this time he fathered several bastard children on slaves at pleasure houses, though most took after him in coloring. Despite their lowly origins, Ulrick ensured that his illegitimate children were raised the same as his trueborn children – each was given an above average education, and those that desired it were given martial training. For over a decade he stayed far from the affairs of Westeros, and in time his inconvenient existence was largely forgotten amongst the Dornish nobility. But he had money, and he spent it wisely. He always had eyes and ears in Sunspear, and nothing escaped his knowledge.
It came as no surprise, then, that when Prince Mallor Martell died at age thirty-seven after suffering from a sudden and debilitating sickness of the stomach none suspected that Ulrick was behind it. None thought to investigate whether foul play was behind the unfortunate death. No one discovered that poison, slipped into the Prince’s wine by an assassin, had eroded his stomach and intestines from the inside out, for the Tears of Lys leave no trace behind.
Mallor’s daughter, Nymeria, would rule for seven years, having never met her uncle but hearing enough about him that she did not extend an invitation to return to court. She, too, would perish, though of decidedly natural causes – the plague that claimed so many of Westeros’ elite did not spare the Dornish, taking the life of both Nymeria and her younger brothers Lewyn and Loran. Her child, a three-year-old infant girl, was left as the scion of House Martell amid a time of strife and looming war.
It was then, almost twenty years after he had left, that Ulrick at last returned to Sunspear. Many who had once known him were old or dead, and those who had once taunted him were now his to command. As the heir of the young Princess he was quickly recognized as a strong contender for the position of regent – with a few well-placed bribes this support became unanimous. Shortly thereafter, Princess Tyene Martell suffered a tragic accident – always a curious child, she had been neglected by her maid and wandered to the top of one of the castle’s spires where, losing her balance, she had fallen to her death.
The maid, of course, was suitably punished for her carelessness.
Ulrick Martell was never meant to rule, and yet the gods have made it so. House Martell faces a realm divided and in the midst of war – will it prosper, or will it fall to ruin?
This would not last.
Growing up, Mallor was the sun and Ulrick his shadow – he worshipped his brother as everything he wanted to be but never could, and attempted to copy him in practically everything he did. For his part, Mallor increasingly saw his younger brother as an annoying pup who dogged his heels. Contemptuous of his lack of identity and weak disposition, Mallor and his favored courtiers bullied Ulrick mercilessly throughout adolescence. On one such occasion when Ulrick was twelve, he refused to fight in a sparring match in favor of finishing a book – Mallor exclaimed loudly that if he wanted to act like a girl he should dress as one too. He forced him to walk the corridors of Sunspear dressed in fine Myrish lace and curtsey to giggling maidens as they passed by, a traumatic experience which marked a turning point in their relationship.
In time Ulrick’s idolization of his brother turned to fear and hatred; he became a sullen and unsmiling youth, spiteful and quick to anger. He retreated into his studies, isolating himself from the rest of the court – while the other noble sons played in the Water Gardens, chased girls and sparred in the courtyards with blunted spears, Ulrick read every book he could get his hands on. His only real friend, Maester Franklyn, thought him brilliant and urged him to forge a chain at the Citadel so that he might lend his intelligence and aptitude for learning to one of the Great Houses of Westeros, or perhaps even to the king himself. However, Ulrick’s grandfather refused to allow it – as the second-in-line to inherit Sunspear until Mallor bore a son or daughter, Ulrick needed to remain free to marry and sire children. That night Mallor found his brother crying and beat him till he was bloody, reminding him that men of House Martell do not weep.
In 212 AC, Mallor and Ulrick’s grandfather died of a wasting sickness, elevating eighteen-year-old Mallor to the position of Prince of Dorne. Both brothers being unwed, two marriages to vassal houses quickly followed. Mallor married the daughter of Lord Dayne, widely considered the most beautiful maiden in Dorne – within the year she was pregnant with his child. Ulrick’s chosen bride, Eleanor Fowler, a yellow-haired girl of sixteen with bright blue eyes, a slender frame and a quick smile, was also renowned as a great beauty – Ulrick, never popular with girls, was smitten with her and thanked his brother earnestly for the match. Theirs was a pleasant marriage, if not especially happy or passionate, and Ulrick was the better for it; with encouragement from his wife he even became a decent hand with the spear and shield, no longer a martial embarrassment to his House. He learned to smile and laugh, and when the first of his four children were born – a sandy-haired boy named Arron – he thought that perhaps he had been wrong to hate the brother who had given him such a love.
However, when Ulrick was twenty-two he made a discovery that would mark his life forever – his wife, his confidant and partner of seven years, the mother of his children, had been frequenting his brother’s bed since she first came to court for their wedding. Enraged at this enormous betrayal, Ulrick’s strangled Eleanor to death in their own bed but was discovered by Sunspear guards before he could attempt the same with his brother. The murder was covered up in the interests of avoiding war with House Fowler, though Ulrick (along with his children) was sent to the Free Cities in what was understood, privately, to be permanent exile.
Ulrick spent years traveling extensively in the Free Cities, where he indulged his passion for accumulating knowledge – though now it was with vengeance in mind. The city which he found himself drawn to the most was Lys, where he learned much about poisons and eventually became involved in trade. During this time he fathered several bastard children on slaves at pleasure houses, though most took after him in coloring. Despite their lowly origins, Ulrick ensured that his illegitimate children were raised the same as his trueborn children – each was given an above average education, and those that desired it were given martial training. For over a decade he stayed far from the affairs of Westeros, and in time his inconvenient existence was largely forgotten amongst the Dornish nobility. But he had money, and he spent it wisely. He always had eyes and ears in Sunspear, and nothing escaped his knowledge.
It came as no surprise, then, that when Prince Mallor Martell died at age thirty-seven after suffering from a sudden and debilitating sickness of the stomach none suspected that Ulrick was behind it. None thought to investigate whether foul play was behind the unfortunate death. No one discovered that poison, slipped into the Prince’s wine by an assassin, had eroded his stomach and intestines from the inside out, for the Tears of Lys leave no trace behind.
Mallor’s daughter, Nymeria, would rule for seven years, having never met her uncle but hearing enough about him that she did not extend an invitation to return to court. She, too, would perish, though of decidedly natural causes – the plague that claimed so many of Westeros’ elite did not spare the Dornish, taking the life of both Nymeria and her younger brothers Lewyn and Loran. Her child, a three-year-old infant girl, was left as the scion of House Martell amid a time of strife and looming war.
It was then, almost twenty years after he had left, that Ulrick at last returned to Sunspear. Many who had once known him were old or dead, and those who had once taunted him were now his to command. As the heir of the young Princess he was quickly recognized as a strong contender for the position of regent – with a few well-placed bribes this support became unanimous. Shortly thereafter, Princess Tyene Martell suffered a tragic accident – always a curious child, she had been neglected by her maid and wandered to the top of one of the castle’s spires where, losing her balance, she had fallen to her death.
The maid, of course, was suitably punished for her carelessness.
Ulrick Martell was never meant to rule, and yet the gods have made it so. House Martell faces a realm divided and in the midst of war – will it prosper, or will it fall to ruin?
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I'm happy to sub in as Stark. I'll go re-read the thread up to this point to get familiarised.
((RemindeR that resending orders/adapting them is due tomorrow, 12:00 GMT+1 . I still need orders from several LP's, including but not limited to House Baratheon, Lannister and Arryn.))
To Ser Jon of House Arryn,
I thank you for your condolences and your kind words, and I hope that I do live up to them. Rumour has it that the plague not only brought death, but that a son has also been born to you, and if so I congratulate you. As for the matter of your brother, I will gladly take your younger brother as my squire, if it his wish to come all the way south for the purpose. However I ask him to travel with all haste, for I cannot spare time to wait for him given the circumstances.
Tion Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands and Warden of the West.
I thank you for your condolences and your kind words, and I hope that I do live up to them. Rumour has it that the plague not only brought death, but that a son has also been born to you, and if so I congratulate you. As for the matter of your brother, I will gladly take your younger brother as my squire, if it his wish to come all the way south for the purpose. However I ask him to travel with all haste, for I cannot spare time to wait for him given the circumstances.
Tion Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands and Warden of the West.
House Martell
* * * * *
Arron Martell
Born: 212 AC (age 24)
It could be argued that few sons are as unlike their fathers as Arron and Ulrick Martell. The eldest of his trueborn children with Eleanor Fowler and the lawful heir to the Dorne, Arron is the opposite of his father in practically every way: he is tall where Ulrick is slight, muscular where he is slender, and most of all, exceedingly stupid where he is exceptionally smart. Whereas all of Ulrick’s other children are at the very least of above average intelligence, Arron is slow to understand and quick to anger. Behind his strong, handsome features is a mind suited for one thing and one thing only: war. Like his uncle Mallor before him, Arron possesses an undeniable talent at fighting with many types of weapons, from swords and spears to axes and bows - something which has caused Ulrick to doubt his son's true parentage at times. He is also the only member of the Martell family who has seen true combat, having ridden with an Essosi sellsword company for six years in the Disputed Lands. Now that he is the Prince of Dorne rather than an exile prince, Ulrick constantly worries about leaving the kingdom in Arron’s hands after his death and prefers to delegate much of the responsibilities associated with being heir to his daughter Ashara instead.
Ashara Martell
Born: 213 AC (age 23)
Gulian Martell
Born: 214 AC (age 22)
Myria Martell
Born: 215 AC (age 21)
Qoren Sand
Born: 216 AC (age 20)
Cyrenna Sand
Born: 216 (age 20)
Nymeria Sand
Born: 217 (age 18)
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I've given Elmo Tully some more characterization in my post. He is now available for IC's with other characters in King's Landing! 
236 AC January-June
The Crownlands
Bloodraven, after hearing that the Blackfyres have yet again invaded the Seven Kingdoms, wisely prepares last ditch efforts to fortify and prepare the city for a siege. Grain is taken from farmers who are themselves conscripted and forced into the city to dig trenches, build obstacles, etc. The masses of homeless people from the great fires of King's Landing are fed and employed by Bloodraven and mount a tremendous effort. By the time the Blackfyre host did reach King's Landing, it was more then ready.
When word of the latest Blackfyre invasion reaches Braavos, at first, the Iron Bank remained neutral. However, once the siege of King's Landing commenced, the Bank would contact the crown and inform them that while payment is due, even after an extension so graciously granted, it noted that under these circumstances a transport of such an amount of gold would be prone to piracy by the Blackfyre fleet, and sent but a representative to King's Landing to see the payment for themselves. As soon as this petty invasion had been quelled, they expected immediate contact and an arrangement to be made to transport the gold back to Braavos. If this was not done immediately, however, the Crown would face the consequences and pay an additional 3,000 gold. The Iron Bank is watching, and they shall have their due.
Word also arrives from the Citadel, that until the replacement for the deceased Grand Maester is selected and able to safely travel to King's Landing, Master Aemon exercises the advisatory powers of that position.
(King's landing ready to withstand a siege of roughly a year and a half,-500 gold, Iron Bank agreement struck. Aemon is Grand Maester until you get one next turn)
The North
The perhaps wise moves of Lord Stark increasingly cause concern in the Southern Kingdoms. He has already mostly filled his winter stores, yet summer has just begun. Does he truly think a winter would strike so soon and cruelly, after one that lasted for neigh a decade ? While the Starks of Winterfell are famous for their words, they too have been wrong in the past on when winter truly comes. At the very least, the North will be well-prepared when it does.
(8/10 winter stores filled, people in the south very concerned)
Bloodraven, after hearing that the Blackfyres have yet again invaded the Seven Kingdoms, wisely prepares last ditch efforts to fortify and prepare the city for a siege. Grain is taken from farmers who are themselves conscripted and forced into the city to dig trenches, build obstacles, etc. The masses of homeless people from the great fires of King's Landing are fed and employed by Bloodraven and mount a tremendous effort. By the time the Blackfyre host did reach King's Landing, it was more then ready.
When word of the latest Blackfyre invasion reaches Braavos, at first, the Iron Bank remained neutral. However, once the siege of King's Landing commenced, the Bank would contact the crown and inform them that while payment is due, even after an extension so graciously granted, it noted that under these circumstances a transport of such an amount of gold would be prone to piracy by the Blackfyre fleet, and sent but a representative to King's Landing to see the payment for themselves. As soon as this petty invasion had been quelled, they expected immediate contact and an arrangement to be made to transport the gold back to Braavos. If this was not done immediately, however, the Crown would face the consequences and pay an additional 3,000 gold. The Iron Bank is watching, and they shall have their due.
Word also arrives from the Citadel, that until the replacement for the deceased Grand Maester is selected and able to safely travel to King's Landing, Master Aemon exercises the advisatory powers of that position.
(King's landing ready to withstand a siege of roughly a year and a half,-500 gold, Iron Bank agreement struck. Aemon is Grand Maester until you get one next turn)
The North
The perhaps wise moves of Lord Stark increasingly cause concern in the Southern Kingdoms. He has already mostly filled his winter stores, yet summer has just begun. Does he truly think a winter would strike so soon and cruelly, after one that lasted for neigh a decade ? While the Starks of Winterfell are famous for their words, they too have been wrong in the past on when winter truly comes. At the very least, the North will be well-prepared when it does.
(8/10 winter stores filled, people in the south very concerned)
The New Gift, here in red, and Brandon's Gift, in Green, respectively.
An interesting proposal reaches Castle Black. Lord stark ''offers'' a reduction of the Gift back to Brandon's Gift, in return with settling Brandon's Gift with lords and bannermen that would pay allegiance and their taxes to the Night's watch. This is flatly refused by the Lord Commander as the New Gift, while plagued by frequent Wilding raids and a deteriorating economic situation,practically wields the lion's share of the Nights Watch income. Brandon's Gift has become a wild and rugged land, long since devoid of most human habitation barring a few outposts in now long since abandoned towns and orchards. The Lord Commander is however pragmatic, and offers a return of the New Gift, if its taxes and manpower are dedicated to the Night's Watch and Brandon's Gift is helped rebuild.
(Counteroffer by the Night's Watch, will IC on it with you when we have the time)
The Vale
By the decree of his young and charismatic son Jon Arryn, Jasper Arryn is effectively ousted from power in the Vale in what is best described as a palace coup. It is even said the increasingly infirm lord responded with a smile and said : Finally I am free. Let my son be better prepared for the burden of rulership then I was. In a short ceremony held in the throneroom, power was officially transferred to Jon Arryn in all but name. Regent Lord Jon Arryn ruled the Vale now.
His first true action is to call a meeting with his bannermen, to be held at the Eyrie. All important nobles of the Vale were sure to attend, for this meeting would determine the future of the Vale. Even prideful and rebellious House Royce sent a representative, even if it was not by the will of Lord Orwen Royce.
He also, before even consulting his lords, announces a lowering of the taxes on the nobility, however to be compensated with an additional tax on luxury goods and the merchant class. His vassals cheer, and the merchants sneer.
(Jon Arryn regent in the vale, meeting called, Byrron Arryn attends in @Corman50's name, even if he did not wish it. Rebellious teenager and because Korona rolled really well. Will IC on it with the both of you. Angry merchants, happier nobility, income increase and decrease in respective zones. )
Runestone sees an increase of military activity as Lord Royce prepares his armies for war. Several hundreds of troops are recruited into his growing army, adding to his already quite large army of bannermen and allies. Whatever he is planning, however awaits the outcome of the meeting in the Eyrie.
Lord Royce gathers the most prominent merchants of his lordship and reassures them that any conflict that reaches the Vale will not hurt their interests, nor will he take action against them. With the recent tax levied by House Arryn, this message is widely appreciated.
(-600 Gold, -152.5 gold in maintenance, + 200 archers and 450 spearmen. Happy merchants.)
The Reach
Interim Lord Victor Tyrell shows exactly why he is beloved with the smallfolk. He sends aid in the form of food and water , and orders the victims of the plague to be burned, lest it roar up again. It is then Lord Luthor returns home, at last. He takes the helm of the assembled army and marches to the aid of the crown. Lord Victor is left in High Garden, a regent for his nephew.
(Luthor is finally home and has marched off to war with your bannermen. He did not however reach the battle in time and returned at the end of the turn.People are really happy and the situation is recovering. + 300 income (permanent), -500 gold.)
Petyr Redwyne, one of the younger scions of House Redwyne, sees his first war as he accompanies his father as his squire. Even as he does not see combat, rather spend his time cleaning latrines, polishing his father's blade and armour, or just silently stand and watch as his father lays out strategy for the Redwyne forces, he learns a lot and by the end of this period is remarkedly healthier and more able in sword combat then ever before..
(CKII equivalent of MKIII trait of fighter, becomes brawny.)
The Westerlands
Tion Lannister would have engaged in wargames to train himself for the incoming conflict, yet found himself streniously engaged with duties attached to preparing a large part of the forces of House Lannister for war. This had been the first time in over a decade that such a thing had occured. However, the raw practicality of the very endeavour was not lost on him, and he soon learned much about the organization and cohesion of armies. Perhaps not today with tactics, but what most forget : An army falls or stands with its supply and support. If anything he had learned to recognize the value of it.
The Lannister navy is put on standby as it loomed like the Iron Bank would have its due. However, the news of the temporary extension to the deadline of payment due to.. unforeseen circumstances came in time, and the heavily armed Lannister fleet returned home, before even leaving the sight of Lannisport.
(Tion Lannister learned more or less how to organize armies, a valuable skill.Fleet manouvre turned out not to be necessary.)
An attempt to follow up storing grain for winter fails disastrously as the main Reyne storehouse mysteriously catches fire . His people, unable to store the excess grain, instead celebrate and feast due to the bountiful and rich harvest. At Castamere, the fruits of summer were celebrated in now famous feasts known for their wealth and splendour.
A mission is sent out by agents of House Reyne, sailing away from Lannisport to an unknown destination. It returns a few months later, and hands Lord Reyne a document and a particular item wrapped deeply in wolf-hides. Whatever he had ordered to be acquired, it had become the talk of the day as the nobility of Casterly Rock and Castamere speculated over what the mysterious delivery could possibly be or mean.
(Your people are really happy, even if a bit concerned. Storehouse burned down, will take 1250 gold to rebuild. Stuff, will tell you what it is privately.)
The Riverlands
Lord Edmure Tully busies himself with his more favourite activities this period, as war has broken out. He rallies his bannermen to him near Harrenhal, and speeds down to the battle of Seven Knights, as it would later be known. The feast that breaks out in the Tully field camp, is, according to legend, one that would match the decadence of the extremely wealthy of the free cities. Reputedly, Lord Edmure himself took no less then five whores at once in the greatest debauchery ever seen after a battle.
However, drinking and whoring are not his only actions while on campaign. He distinguishes himself as an excellent warrior, and it was his van on the left flank that would clear the path in the darkest time of battle. No less then fifteen men had died from his sword alone.
(Your vassals like you a lot more, your wife is not so happy. Leana and Hoster Piper are left in charge of Riverrun while you are away. Combat skills improved markedly)
The Stormlands
Lord Baratheon is unfussed by the rebellion raging in the north, as he spends a decent portion of his time rooting out corruption. While the reforms he enacts are very succesful, his bannermen and court is less so. Many in the court of Lord Baratheon had connections that have now been severed, and as such, have lost a lot of wealth. His administration may be a lot more loyal and far less corrupt, he has paid a price he surely did not expect to pay.
(You angered your court by closing the loopholes they used. -350 gold, + 250 income (permanent)
What was however liked by his bannermen, at least initially, is the recruitment of more troops. Some 900 troops joined the army as House Baratheon prepared and waited for a battle they would never participate in. Like the Martells and the Starks, Lord Baratheon had prepared for fighting the Blackfyres. He did however not come to the aid of House Targaryen when it needed it the most in the Battle of the Seven Knights. This greatly angered his bannermen, for House Baratheon and Targaryen are bound by blood and the battle was but a short march away from the Stormlands. His passive attitude was unbecoming of a Baratheon, and some even called him a coward.
(Angry bannermen, army was ready for war but turned out not to be needed.)
The Iron Isles
Material and supplies intended for the crown never materialize as several corrupt nobles ''send'' it over to the Crownlands. It is however noted that totally not coincidentally several houses in Pyke. The remainder of it is taken by pirates in the Stepstones, seeing the filled, slow moving ships as easy targets.
Attempts to increase agricultural production in the Iron Isles fail, as even some more tolerant people hold true to the tradition and protest continued sowing. We Do Not Sow is heard loudly and clearly in Pyke, and many people are angry that the Greyjoys seem willing to abandon this most sacred and honoured Ironborn tradition.
(-350 gold from material and supplies, people of Pyke slightly angry.)
Dorne
Ulrick Nymeros-Martell attempts to strengthen his newfound position in Dorne with the death of the young daughter of the last Princess of Dorne. He strikes several marriages with the most important houses of Dorne, even one with House Yronwood, their traditionally unruly vassal, which is strangely enough well accepted. However, none of these marriages actually go through in this period as the preparations of war take up too much time for both Ulrick and his vassals. It is however agreed upon that after the conclusion of this war, the marriages will go through and be consumated.
The army gathers near the Boneway as Dorne readies for war. The banners have been called, and while his position is still relatively insecure, his vassals do honour their vows before gods and men. A raven reaches King's Landing, stating simply that the Dornishmen will intervene against the Blackfyre rebellion if it is necessary, but until then, guard the Dornish realm from further Blackfyre excursions.
(Marriages struck. Army ready at the Boneway.)
((War update will come tomorrow. Any late orders will still be accepted and added in due to the messy nature of this turn.))
(Counteroffer by the Night's Watch, will IC on it with you when we have the time)
The Vale
By the decree of his young and charismatic son Jon Arryn, Jasper Arryn is effectively ousted from power in the Vale in what is best described as a palace coup. It is even said the increasingly infirm lord responded with a smile and said : Finally I am free. Let my son be better prepared for the burden of rulership then I was. In a short ceremony held in the throneroom, power was officially transferred to Jon Arryn in all but name. Regent Lord Jon Arryn ruled the Vale now.
His first true action is to call a meeting with his bannermen, to be held at the Eyrie. All important nobles of the Vale were sure to attend, for this meeting would determine the future of the Vale. Even prideful and rebellious House Royce sent a representative, even if it was not by the will of Lord Orwen Royce.
He also, before even consulting his lords, announces a lowering of the taxes on the nobility, however to be compensated with an additional tax on luxury goods and the merchant class. His vassals cheer, and the merchants sneer.
(Jon Arryn regent in the vale, meeting called, Byrron Arryn attends in @Corman50's name, even if he did not wish it. Rebellious teenager and because Korona rolled really well. Will IC on it with the both of you. Angry merchants, happier nobility, income increase and decrease in respective zones. )
Runestone sees an increase of military activity as Lord Royce prepares his armies for war. Several hundreds of troops are recruited into his growing army, adding to his already quite large army of bannermen and allies. Whatever he is planning, however awaits the outcome of the meeting in the Eyrie.
Lord Royce gathers the most prominent merchants of his lordship and reassures them that any conflict that reaches the Vale will not hurt their interests, nor will he take action against them. With the recent tax levied by House Arryn, this message is widely appreciated.
(-600 Gold, -152.5 gold in maintenance, + 200 archers and 450 spearmen. Happy merchants.)
The Reach
Interim Lord Victor Tyrell shows exactly why he is beloved with the smallfolk. He sends aid in the form of food and water , and orders the victims of the plague to be burned, lest it roar up again. It is then Lord Luthor returns home, at last. He takes the helm of the assembled army and marches to the aid of the crown. Lord Victor is left in High Garden, a regent for his nephew.
(Luthor is finally home and has marched off to war with your bannermen. He did not however reach the battle in time and returned at the end of the turn.People are really happy and the situation is recovering. + 300 income (permanent), -500 gold.)
Petyr Redwyne, one of the younger scions of House Redwyne, sees his first war as he accompanies his father as his squire. Even as he does not see combat, rather spend his time cleaning latrines, polishing his father's blade and armour, or just silently stand and watch as his father lays out strategy for the Redwyne forces, he learns a lot and by the end of this period is remarkedly healthier and more able in sword combat then ever before..
(CKII equivalent of MKIII trait of fighter, becomes brawny.)
The Westerlands
Tion Lannister would have engaged in wargames to train himself for the incoming conflict, yet found himself streniously engaged with duties attached to preparing a large part of the forces of House Lannister for war. This had been the first time in over a decade that such a thing had occured. However, the raw practicality of the very endeavour was not lost on him, and he soon learned much about the organization and cohesion of armies. Perhaps not today with tactics, but what most forget : An army falls or stands with its supply and support. If anything he had learned to recognize the value of it.
The Lannister navy is put on standby as it loomed like the Iron Bank would have its due. However, the news of the temporary extension to the deadline of payment due to.. unforeseen circumstances came in time, and the heavily armed Lannister fleet returned home, before even leaving the sight of Lannisport.
(Tion Lannister learned more or less how to organize armies, a valuable skill.Fleet manouvre turned out not to be necessary.)
An attempt to follow up storing grain for winter fails disastrously as the main Reyne storehouse mysteriously catches fire . His people, unable to store the excess grain, instead celebrate and feast due to the bountiful and rich harvest. At Castamere, the fruits of summer were celebrated in now famous feasts known for their wealth and splendour.
A mission is sent out by agents of House Reyne, sailing away from Lannisport to an unknown destination. It returns a few months later, and hands Lord Reyne a document and a particular item wrapped deeply in wolf-hides. Whatever he had ordered to be acquired, it had become the talk of the day as the nobility of Casterly Rock and Castamere speculated over what the mysterious delivery could possibly be or mean.
(Your people are really happy, even if a bit concerned. Storehouse burned down, will take 1250 gold to rebuild. Stuff, will tell you what it is privately.)
The Riverlands
Lord Edmure Tully busies himself with his more favourite activities this period, as war has broken out. He rallies his bannermen to him near Harrenhal, and speeds down to the battle of Seven Knights, as it would later be known. The feast that breaks out in the Tully field camp, is, according to legend, one that would match the decadence of the extremely wealthy of the free cities. Reputedly, Lord Edmure himself took no less then five whores at once in the greatest debauchery ever seen after a battle.
However, drinking and whoring are not his only actions while on campaign. He distinguishes himself as an excellent warrior, and it was his van on the left flank that would clear the path in the darkest time of battle. No less then fifteen men had died from his sword alone.
(Your vassals like you a lot more, your wife is not so happy. Leana and Hoster Piper are left in charge of Riverrun while you are away. Combat skills improved markedly)
The Stormlands
Lord Baratheon is unfussed by the rebellion raging in the north, as he spends a decent portion of his time rooting out corruption. While the reforms he enacts are very succesful, his bannermen and court is less so. Many in the court of Lord Baratheon had connections that have now been severed, and as such, have lost a lot of wealth. His administration may be a lot more loyal and far less corrupt, he has paid a price he surely did not expect to pay.
(You angered your court by closing the loopholes they used. -350 gold, + 250 income (permanent)
What was however liked by his bannermen, at least initially, is the recruitment of more troops. Some 900 troops joined the army as House Baratheon prepared and waited for a battle they would never participate in. Like the Martells and the Starks, Lord Baratheon had prepared for fighting the Blackfyres. He did however not come to the aid of House Targaryen when it needed it the most in the Battle of the Seven Knights. This greatly angered his bannermen, for House Baratheon and Targaryen are bound by blood and the battle was but a short march away from the Stormlands. His passive attitude was unbecoming of a Baratheon, and some even called him a coward.
(Angry bannermen, army was ready for war but turned out not to be needed.)
The Iron Isles
Material and supplies intended for the crown never materialize as several corrupt nobles ''send'' it over to the Crownlands. It is however noted that totally not coincidentally several houses in Pyke. The remainder of it is taken by pirates in the Stepstones, seeing the filled, slow moving ships as easy targets.
Attempts to increase agricultural production in the Iron Isles fail, as even some more tolerant people hold true to the tradition and protest continued sowing. We Do Not Sow is heard loudly and clearly in Pyke, and many people are angry that the Greyjoys seem willing to abandon this most sacred and honoured Ironborn tradition.
(-350 gold from material and supplies, people of Pyke slightly angry.)
Dorne
Ulrick Nymeros-Martell attempts to strengthen his newfound position in Dorne with the death of the young daughter of the last Princess of Dorne. He strikes several marriages with the most important houses of Dorne, even one with House Yronwood, their traditionally unruly vassal, which is strangely enough well accepted. However, none of these marriages actually go through in this period as the preparations of war take up too much time for both Ulrick and his vassals. It is however agreed upon that after the conclusion of this war, the marriages will go through and be consumated.
The army gathers near the Boneway as Dorne readies for war. The banners have been called, and while his position is still relatively insecure, his vassals do honour their vows before gods and men. A raven reaches King's Landing, stating simply that the Dornishmen will intervene against the Blackfyre rebellion if it is necessary, but until then, guard the Dornish realm from further Blackfyre excursions.
(Marriages struck. Army ready at the Boneway.)
((War update will come tomorrow. Any late orders will still be accepted and added in due to the messy nature of this turn.))
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Runceford could see the Broken Arm from the deck of the Vintage. Soon the mighty Redwyne fleet would be clear of the most perilous part of the voyage (until battle commenced, of course), the Stepstones, which meant they would arrive at the Crownlands in the next few days. Of course the Stepstones were not so perilous when you commanded a hundred-ship fleet, but you could never be too careful. He had heard that the Ironborn had trouble from pirates not long ago, which of course pleased him. Let them get a taste of their own poison.
"Keep your guard up!" he heard Humfrey yell as his brother launched his wooden sword at Petyr further down across the galley. Petyr deftly blocked the blow and followed with a parry against his uncle's torso, which was easily blocked.
"Follow through! Commit!" Humfrey lectured his nephew.
On the voyage Humfrey had been showing Petyr how to fight with a blade while Runceford was beginning to teach his son the art of captaining a ship. Petyr was still confused by the complications of seafaring but he was taking a liking to his martial training. Runceford had been reluctant to begin the boy's sword training since he was a poor swordsman himself and his son was so young, but with war coming soon and Humfrey eager to train Petyr there was little choice. Fortunately, he was quickly growing into a strong, strapping boy. Runceford hoped he would learn the art of war without getting himself into too much danger by squiring for his father and uncle during the campaign. After that, provided the gods looked kindly upon them, Petyr would receive the best training there was by squiring for Wendell in the Kingsguard.
Runceford could not think how the gods would not look kindly on the royal forces. They would outnumber the Blackfyre forces on land and sea and even though the pretender was reportedly close to the capital, Bloodraven should be able to win the day. But should was not must. The Blackfryes picked now to land for a reason. The realm was weakened by a long winter and a season of deadly sickness. Many of the great houses were ruled either ruled by regents or mired in conflicts with rebellious vassals and family members. The full strength of the lords paramount, the backbone of Targaryen support against the Blackfryes, could not be counted on. Perhaps some ambitious lesser lords would rise for the Blackfyres as before, though Runceford had not heard any word of this from his well-placed sources across the realm and he imagined that fear of Bloodraven would keep many of the houses previously friendly to the Blackfyre cause in line. And while the royal family was led by skilled commanders, the fact that the occupant of the Iron Throne was a baby and his regent was despised across Westeros was not a comfort.
With all those factors, perhaps the Redwyne forces would be the decisive factor. And perhaps Runceford could use that to finally get a reward from the crown...
"Keep your guard up!" he heard Humfrey yell as his brother launched his wooden sword at Petyr further down across the galley. Petyr deftly blocked the blow and followed with a parry against his uncle's torso, which was easily blocked.
"Follow through! Commit!" Humfrey lectured his nephew.
On the voyage Humfrey had been showing Petyr how to fight with a blade while Runceford was beginning to teach his son the art of captaining a ship. Petyr was still confused by the complications of seafaring but he was taking a liking to his martial training. Runceford had been reluctant to begin the boy's sword training since he was a poor swordsman himself and his son was so young, but with war coming soon and Humfrey eager to train Petyr there was little choice. Fortunately, he was quickly growing into a strong, strapping boy. Runceford hoped he would learn the art of war without getting himself into too much danger by squiring for his father and uncle during the campaign. After that, provided the gods looked kindly upon them, Petyr would receive the best training there was by squiring for Wendell in the Kingsguard.
Runceford could not think how the gods would not look kindly on the royal forces. They would outnumber the Blackfyre forces on land and sea and even though the pretender was reportedly close to the capital, Bloodraven should be able to win the day. But should was not must. The Blackfryes picked now to land for a reason. The realm was weakened by a long winter and a season of deadly sickness. Many of the great houses were ruled either ruled by regents or mired in conflicts with rebellious vassals and family members. The full strength of the lords paramount, the backbone of Targaryen support against the Blackfryes, could not be counted on. Perhaps some ambitious lesser lords would rise for the Blackfyres as before, though Runceford had not heard any word of this from his well-placed sources across the realm and he imagined that fear of Bloodraven would keep many of the houses previously friendly to the Blackfyre cause in line. And while the royal family was led by skilled commanders, the fact that the occupant of the Iron Throne was a baby and his regent was despised across Westeros was not a comfort.
With all those factors, perhaps the Redwyne forces would be the decisive factor. And perhaps Runceford could use that to finally get a reward from the crown...
All the Kings Fish 1/3
Feast of Seven Knights
Pain. Feast of Seven Knights
Thirst.
Glimmerings of light...
Groaning in pain as he slowly cracked his eyes open on his field cot, Lord Edmure of House Tully... Lord Paramount of the Riverlands was faced with an almost indecipherable desire to vomit... which he promptly did, retching over the edge of his cot as his vision turned into stars.
"My Lord?" Desmond Grell, his squire peeked in, his innocent expression turning into one of horror at the sight of the lord of Riverrun so ghastly pale.
"I shall fetch the Maester my lord! You must have been poisoned by the black blades of the traitors!" The youngster wheezed, hurrying away before Edmure could even object. This was no poison... well no poison of traitors, but one of his own bannermen of Blackwood and Bracken.
The night after the battle had been one for the legends. A festivity rarely seen even by the rich houses of the Riverlands, and Edmure had indulged freely in food at first, but kept well away from the 'companionship' of ladies of the night, and too much drink. He'd figured he'd eat the choice cuts of meat, cheese and maybe have a mug or two of ale, but just as he'd thought of retiring he'd suffered an ambush most vile... by two men he'd thought his most staunch of bannermen.
Quentyn Blackwood and Roger Bracken.
The two men had been over their usual tiffs about their feud, and had declared the Lord of Riverrun would settle them once and for all. Edmure, not even nearly drunk enough to try something of that magnitude had tried to make his apologies, only for the two men to just about drag him back amongst the Riverlords, with many of his bannermen raising him above them upon a shield for the Rivermen to see their lord.
Though his heroics had clearly not been noticed by the Throne or other Lords, the RIvermen and Lords had seen his bravery and cunning in the field and wished to salute their lord and hero. As each lord offered a toast to be downed, Edmure was forced by good manner to respond in kind, and soon he'd drank a full mug of ale, or a glass of wine with each lord, knight and squire alike, and was just about ready to collapse.
In his stumblings he'd collapsed through the fragile cloth of one of the pleasure tents only to find himself in the gentle embraces of no less than five whores of no small beauty. Though his mind was befuddled, he was not even nearly foolish enough to lay with women that no doubt had served half the camp already! Or so he'd thought, as he'd tried to struggle away, only for the women to mistake his attempts at escape for lewd gestures.
Seeing a chance to service a lord and hero besides, the five women took their pleasure off him, even as Edmure's objections began to die down, until he must've passed out, winding back in his tent no doubt by efforts of his dutiful squire.
The recount of the past nights events caused another groan of thirst and fear to escape his lips.
Leana was going to murder him, wasn’t she?
The Third Blackfyre Rebellion : A path to redemption
The Third Blackfyre rebellion had started off remarkedly peaceful. Peasants fled before the well organized force of the Golden Company and the Steelborn as it made its way to King's Landing. As the city prepared for the inevitable siege, forces of the various great houses gathered upon the city. It then dawned upon the inhabitants of King's Landing. The Blackfyre forces had crossed the river under the cover of night. The City itself however was in no immediate danger. Large grain stores had given the city plenty of breathing space while it awaited the arrival of the forces of the various great houses.
The Blackfyre navy, while a formidable force of 50 warships, would be no match for the combined forces of House Velaryon and the royal fleet, based mostly on Dragonstone. It would find itself destroyed soon after the Blackfyre forces had crossed the Blackwater, in a battle known as Aegor's folly, as the Blackfyre fleet sailed straight into the entire royal fleet present. The Royal fleet had been prepared, and the green substance known as wildfire soon lit up the night's sky, ironically, near Duskendale . The scattered and bruised remains of the Blackfyre fleet would soon beach itself, as the few troops still alive decided to scatter and flee with their lives.
(-45 Blackfyre ships.-4 Velaryon Ships, -10 Dragonstone ships, 5 ships fled, consider them destroyed/irrelevant)
Insults were traded between the besieging forces and the staunch defenders of King's Landing. Notably, Aegor ''Bittersteel'' Rivers called for the heads of his half-brother, the toddler king and the peasant Aegon, for which he would in return spare the population of King's Landing and install peacefully Daemon III Blackfyre on the Iron Throne. Obviously, this was refused. Bloodraven himself boasted his continued relationship with ever beautiful Shiera Seastar in clear hearing range of Rivers. Needless to say, this situation would continue for about a week or so until the true battle commenced.
It began with the arrival of two ravens in the Red Keep. The armed forces of House Tully and Lannister began to draw near. Both expected to arrive within the next two to three days. This is what Bloodraven had waited for. With news arriving of the destruction of the Blackfyre navy, he sent out a heavily escorted fleet, to Dragonstone. On it? The King, his direct family, and acting Grand Maester Aemon Targaryen. With the most important members of the royal family secured, he began the second phase of his plan. The royal army marched out two days later. A horn had sounded. Lord Tully had arrived. In the early morning of 7th of May, 236 AC, Bloodravens troops, now under the command of Aegon Targaryen, sallied forth and prepared for battle. His Raven's Teeth, commanded by Aegon, would once again prove their name, as they rained hell down upon the unsuspecting Blackfyre troops, and snuck away before the main force could react. The Blackfyre force had however, been drawn out. As lord Tully lined up along the forces of the Crownlands, to the left, it befell to Lord Bloodraven. Lord Lannister had been awfully... late. The gathered troops on both side were roughly an equal match, with the Blackfyre troops having the advantage of better and more armour, with the large Golden Company, and of fearless Ironborn under the Steelborn banner. The Royal forces numbered more, but were generally of lesser quality. Tactics, would at least, for now, decide this battle.
The battle truly commenced with a skirmishing attack from both sides. Heavily armoured Golden Company composite bowmen attacked the lesser quality Crownlander and Tully archers. Both sides decided to retreat as casualties mounted up , as the Raven's Teeth hammered the Blackfyre archers with their long range fire. Casualties had been heavily in favour of the Blackfyre force, as roughly half the Crownland force had perished, while only a third of the Blackfyre archers had died. The Crown sent out its gathered cavalry force next, and hammered the Blackfyre lines as it softened them up for the main infantry fight that was about to commence. With the blackfyre lines being forced into disarray, the infantry charged in. A chaotic battle commenced.
An effort by Lord Tully would prove decisive. His left flank and the vanguard of the Crown army, lead by Lord Roger Reyne, charged headlong. His sword armed infantry faced a company of lightly armed spearmen. Making easy work of it, they soon found the right flank of the Blackfyre company to be lightly defended, and sent word to Lord Aegon. He reinforced his troops on the right flank as he buckled down for a charge to what the Blackfyre's deemed to be lightly defended. They found out it wasn't. Masses of soldiers collided as the most brutal part of the battle took place. Many would die there. On the left flank, Lord Tully faced increasingly tough resistance as the Blackfyre forces scrambled a defense. Elmo and Edmure Tully had drawn close to the command center of the pretender. While not recognized, he had played a vital part in what would win this battle for the crown. Lord Reyne himself was known to have defeated a dozen or so enemies with his greatsword, hammering the enemies. Even when he temporarily was disarmed, he simply knocked out enemies cold. The fight he put up would be one of the main causes the undefended left flank was so easily ambushed by the Lannister forces. Years from now, tales would still be told how valiantly and strongly Lord Reyne had fought, even without a weapon.
Then again a horn sounded. But this was no ordinary horn. It was the sound of 18,000 Lannister soldiers arriving on the battlefield. The left flank of the Blackfyre force, now relatively undefended, was charged headlong from aside as the Lannisters approached. The battle had been decided. Intense fighting ensued as the Lannisters rolled up the Blackfyre ranks and approached the command center. However, the Blackfyre force, at least for now, held. A last cavalry charge, consisting of but seven knights would spell the beginning of the end. Meanwhile, Tion Lannister had engaged with two men, clad in identical armour, of identical height and identical fighting style, depicting the personal coat of arms of Bittersteel. Both men, armed with great-axes, hammered at the young lord's shield in a battle destined for the tales of legends. As Tion fought for his life, he had identified these were not any soldiers. These were sons of nobility. His fighting style would however save Tion from death, as his shield took many a blow that would otherwise have been deadly. And it would be his shield that won the battle, as seeing it being near its breaking point, used it as a rudimentary club to knock out cold one of the two men. Throwing away his shield, he engaged the other man with his bastard sword. Individually, however, these men were no match for him, and he quickly sent the other man running for his life. He ordered his guard to pursue, as he pulled off the helmet from the man he had just knocked out. Intense purple eyes and silver hair he saw. A valyrian. This was not any man. This was family of Aegor Rivers, or even the pretender himself. He ordered the man captured and moved in pursuit of the other, whom he assumed was his twin.
As the young lord of the Westerlands engaged with these two men, the last of the Seven Knights to still be standing slipped past. He wore a simple armour depicting a Targaryen sigil, and his greatsword matched any other in size. To anyone, he would seem a simple soldier. And that is where Daemon III made his mistake. This was not a simple soldier. The knight engaged in battle with the pretender, now defenseless as his great-uncle Aegor Rivers engaged with a man cladded in black and purple. The Knight, completely silent, met blades with the pretender, in a long and evenly matched battle. Daemon may have been young, but in war, his tactics, and honour, matched that of his grandfather. Eventually a faulty defense would lead to the loss of his sword hand. And as he sat at the mercy of the mysterious knight, he would ask ''Who are you, oh mysterious warrior, that you might match my skill in battle ? Will you at least give me the honour of knowing the name of my killer ?'' The mysterious knight removed his helmet and the young Daemon was in shock. Behind that very helmet sat the face of his exiled uncle. Aenys Blackfyre.
'' Before I do '', he said, ''I must say why'. With your death, I shall redeem my honour and my bloodline before the crown. With your head presented to Bloodraven, I shall be redeemed. I shall be a kinslayer, yes. And I mourn my uncle put you up to this. But sadly, you shall indeed die here. May the Stranger guide you to the afterlife dear nephew.
And so Daemon III died. As he put his helmet back on, he raised the head high in the air, and the Blackfyre troops, now without a cause, routed. However, with their backs to the river, besieged from all sides, they had little choice. A few attempted to cross the wild waters of the Blackwater, and drowned. Most however fought, and died, or surrendered. Some hundred , including the mysterious second man that had eluded Tion Lannister, fled upon the one ship that had escaped. The remains of the Golden Company had either been killed, captured or outright fled back to Essos, where a camp still was.
There was still one battle unfought. Right after Daemon faced his uncle in battle, Aegor Rivers found himself under attack by a cloaked figure. Fighting with a dagger and a one handed sword, Bloodraven himself had attacked. Insults were once again traded as they faced off. In a way, it was a conflict of fighting styles. By far, Bloodraven was the inferior fighter. Yet he did not rely on his combat skills. It was the black magic he was infamous for that would end the fight. For he had poisoned his weapons. He had but caused a scratch, and Aegor Rivers fell. But before he did fall, he cackled. For he knew ,and now Brynden knew, Aegor would have his revenge. Even in death. For he had sired sons. Angry sons. Sons that would wish revenge for the death of their father. They would be back.
And so the Third Blackfyre rebellion met its end, and the feasts of legend began. A helmeted knight would later show himself at the throne, the consequences of that to be lasting..
(4,500 troops, about equally divided between the Crown and the Tully force(most of them heavy infantry and archers), die. Blackfyre force obliterated, son of Aegor Rivers captured. Aegor rivers dead, event inbound on Aenys Blackfyre presenting the head of the pretender to Bloodraven. -200 heavy infantry for the Lannisters, -100 heavy cavalry)
Other events
Of heads and regents
Of heads and regents
It would not be long after the battle of the Seven Knights that a mysterious knight, with a heavy bag arrived a the Red Keep. Those whom had fought in the battle had recognized this mysterious hero. His demand ? An audience with Lord Bloodraven in front of the court. This knight claimed he had slain a Blackfyre.
Bloodraven, strangily, granted this request. The knight was disarmed and thrust into the throne room. It was there he removed his helmet. The court, before abuzz with talk over this knight, fell silent. All gathered there had not forgotten the face of this man. Aenys Blackfyre. traitor and now former exile. His stay on Dragonstone, cut short by this rebellion. In the bag, the head of Daemon III Blackfyre, the slain pretender. Aenys kneeled and put the head, still clearly recognizable, in front of him.
''Uncle. I present to you the head my nephew, the one who called himself Daemon III Blackfyre. May the Seven have mercy on my soul for the sin of Kinslaying.''
((Stuff for jeeshadow to IC about. )
Bloodraven, strangily, granted this request. The knight was disarmed and thrust into the throne room. It was there he removed his helmet. The court, before abuzz with talk over this knight, fell silent. All gathered there had not forgotten the face of this man. Aenys Blackfyre. traitor and now former exile. His stay on Dragonstone, cut short by this rebellion. In the bag, the head of Daemon III Blackfyre, the slain pretender. Aenys kneeled and put the head, still clearly recognizable, in front of him.
''Uncle. I present to you the head my nephew, the one who called himself Daemon III Blackfyre. May the Seven have mercy on my soul for the sin of Kinslaying.''
((Stuff for jeeshadow to IC about. )
The Basilisk Raid
The sails of House Greyjoy are reported on the horizon of the pirate invested Basilisk isles. Long has it been since the Ironborn have sailed forth from their homelands, and long has it been since these pirate invested islands have been sacked. The initial response to the first Greyjoy raids in decades from the islanders is however lacklustre. It appears that the region had never recovered from previous civil wars, and no pirate lord of note had the power to resist the mighty fleet heading for them.
The aftermath of an encounter with a pirate ship
The few ships that do venture out soon learn their lesson as they find themselves boarded, captured or killed. The main fleet splits up into various smaller fleets as the islands are one by one pillaged and looted of all valuables the pirates had gathered over the recent years. Only the corsair market on Talon would prove to put up a decent fight, as the corsairs desperately tried to defend their property from becoming Ironborn property. However, with relatively small losses, it would prove for naught.
(-3 ships, + 2,000 gold, +150 income for three turns once you return home (next turn, thrall induced economic upturn))
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The wind was blowing in Tion’s face as the cries of dying men could be heard off in the distance, metal clashed with metal and young men no older than himself gave up their lives for their king, just like he might in the coming minutes. The fields before them had turned to mud, plenty of blood had been spilled as the dead lay plenty.
“Pretty as a painting.” The young Lord Crakehall said, sitting on his horse besides Tion. The lord was a couple of years older than Lannister, with dark hair and brown eyes. His father had not been old when the plague took him, thoigh Crakehall seemed to enjoy being a lord rather than the heir.
“Is it?” Tion asked as he watched the blades clash while they sat comfortably upon their horses, watching the unfolding fight below as one of the flanks pushed through, Tion spotting the red lion banner along the fishes from the Riverlands. Tion to say the least had been disappointed that the Crown had not waited for his arrival, sparing a lot of lives had they not sought and early battle to claim glory. Tion could not help but sigh as he turned to Westerling, the old lords white hair and beard showing as Tion gave him a nod before he turned to one of his knights, sounding the horns of war. The Westerlands had arrived.
“Pretty as a painting.” The young Lord Crakehall said, sitting on his horse besides Tion. The lord was a couple of years older than Lannister, with dark hair and brown eyes. His father had not been old when the plague took him, thoigh Crakehall seemed to enjoy being a lord rather than the heir.
“Is it?” Tion asked as he watched the blades clash while they sat comfortably upon their horses, watching the unfolding fight below as one of the flanks pushed through, Tion spotting the red lion banner along the fishes from the Riverlands. Tion to say the least had been disappointed that the Crown had not waited for his arrival, sparing a lot of lives had they not sought and early battle to claim glory. Tion could not help but sigh as he turned to Westerling, the old lords white hair and beard showing as Tion gave him a nod before he turned to one of his knights, sounding the horns of war. The Westerlands had arrived.
The Red Lion Roars
A shout rose from the ranks and the whole of the vanguard surged forward at a run, pole-axes and spears raised to stab at the riders of the Golden Company, many of who dropped their lances to draw their swords, clashing steel adding to the din of battle. Roger could see Celtigar in the thick of the struggle, his Valyrian steel axe rising and falling amidst the chaos as he cut down man and horse alike. Over on the left Tully and the men from the Riverlands began a charge against the edge of the enemy line, hedging them in and preventing a manoeuvre around their flanks.
As the two sides thrashed at each other, Roger watched carefully for weak spots in the lines, waiting for the moment of crisis that would turn the battle for or against them. He had seen it at Starpike, where both sides had clashed with boundless enthusiasm, until the Peake’s abruptly turned and fled. The Golden Company was not as soft as Peake levies though and despite their mounting losses and the continued rain of arrows from the Raven’s Teeth, he could tell they would not give in to a sudden rout. The stories, it turned out, were true, and Blackfyre’s men were determined, disciplined, and willing to fight to the death. Roger’s own forces, a far cry from the professional soldiers employed in the Westerlands, were already showing signs of fatigue as the right flank was beginning to bow under the pressure of the Golden Company.
Roger glanced to the hills once more, seeing no sign of Lannister reinforcements. Damning Tion, the Red Lion drew his sword and scanned the field once more, seeing a tall pennant waving in the center of the Golden Company, showing a black dragon on a field of red. Shouting to the men of his personal guard, he pointed his sword at the standard, spurring his horse into a gallop.
The first member of the Golden Company he killed was a well-built man with dark skin and a neatly groomed beard. Roger’s heavy two-handed blade took his arm off above the elbow before his horse trampled him. Roger spurred on, cutting down a rider, slashing through his leg then hacking at his face until his fell. Another rider came at him at a gallop, Roger only just twisting in the saddle to let the lance-point miss him by inches, bringing his sword down on the neck of the charging horse.
He paused to gauge the impact of the charge. He and his guard were cutting their way through the throng of men, although he could see three corpses dressed in scarlet and silver amidst the carnage. Looking to the right, he could see that the ranks had stiffened, the Golden Company’s left having lost their moment.
A warning shout caught his attention in time to see a third rider beginning to charge at him, only to take an arrow from what Roger assumed was one of the Raven’s Teeth, knocking him from his saddle. The man’s horse kept coming however, plowing into Roger’s charger and sending them sprawling on the ground.
Roger’s sword flew from his hand’s, lost somewhere in the mud and gore of the battlefield as he pulled himself to his feet. He quickly found himself dodging determined spear thrusts from a mounted member of the Golden Company, until he managed to wrest the spear from his grip and drive it into the man’s side. Just then Andros Tarbeck, Roger’s squire, rode up, reining in to dismount to give Roger his horse, but he shook his head, pointing at the tall Blackfyre pennant that they had been pushing towards. “Keep cutting!” The young man hesitated before reluctantly riding on, quickly begin swallowed by the swirl of battle.
It was around this time, as he brawled, weaponless, among the mass of soldiers, that Roger heard the sharp blast of a horn, indicating the arrival of the Westerlands forces. The ranks of the Golden Company convulsed, desperately trying to turn to meet the new threat on the flanks, but it was too late to keep them from being cut down. Despite the savagery of the Blackfyre forces they had neither the numbers nor the steel to stand against the professional forces of the Westerlands. Soon it was over, the Golden Company shattered, and Daemon III was no more.
Striding back towards the camp once the last of the fighting was done, stepping over the dead and the dying as the evening sun set on the field of blood, Roger was surprised how quickly the army camp had turned into a party. The sudden change reminded him of the Baratheon wedding feast, where lords had come from far and wide to patrake in the food and wine that were on offer. Now it was like every larder and cellar in King’s Landing had been broken open to celebrate the crown’s victory. Merchants were out in plenty selling food and wine, women of the most ancient profession walking the camp with little to no shame, and the soldiers welcomed it all.
Roger took little interest, simply wanting to be rid of his heavy armor, armor that had been shining, with a scarlet lion on the breastplate, that morning, yet now was covered in mud, dents, and deep scratches which might have proved fatal in other circumstances. The Red Lion felt awful as he made his way through the camp, any adrenaline that had masked his wounds was long gone, leaving his legs sore and cramped, his arms tired, and his hands raw from when he had been forced to fight without his sword. His head pounded from too little water and too little rest, having spent the majority of his time in the past few weeks riding from castle to castle to rally the crownlands. Despite this, he was pleased, taking great pride in his showing at the battle, recognizing how crucial the vanguards action had been in opening the flank to the Westerland forces. Eventually, a wineskin filled mostly with water in hand, he found Tion, standing casually still in his armor, golden like his hair, save a few scratches. “Tion! Are you so proud of that armor that you intend to wear it all night?”
Tion tilted his head to the side, shrugging as he looked at Roger with an amused chuckle, “Hopefully not, I don't imagine it's all too pleasant to sleep in.” Tion sighed as he looked at him, “You look like shit.”
“Yes, well,” he said, taking a drink from the wineskin, “I fought in a battle today.”
“Ah yes, I believe I heard something about that.” Tion said as he looked back over the crowd before sending Roger a smug smile, “You need not thank me.”
Roger chuckled dryly, remembering his absence at the start of the battle. “Thank you? If anything you must thank me Tion, if their left had not turned to aid their dissolving center your forces may have had to fight today.”
Tion laughed, “If you so wish.” He said as he raised his cup towards him, “Thank you then.” He said as he shook his head, “It was far more bloody than I expected.”
“Far more so than Starpike, yet it manages to be so much less devastating to the realm.” Roger mused as he took another drink. It seemed a cruel twist of fate that something as insignificant as the Peakes would take so much from the realm while no one of significance would be lost to the Blackfyre pretenders or their hardened mercenaries. “And well, thank you for showing up when you did, even if it wasn’t needed,” he added with a smile.
“Aha.” Tion just responded, “Yet they did not break before us.” Tion simply added as he looked back over the camp, looking at some of the soldiers and women walking around. “It didn't take as long for us to march as I feared, I did not expect Aegon to engage in battle already.” He said before he sighed, “So, do you wish to eat some of my food?” He asked as he looked out at the tables.
Roger shrugged, walking over to the tables to see what there was, settling on some bread and meat, not confident that his stomach would take any of the more exotic options. “Rest assured, it was not Aegon’s bravery, Tully’s early arrival and Bloodraven’s planning demanded it.”
Tion went over taking some as well as he sat down, “I imagined so, but even then.” He said before sighing once more, a tired appearance. “I'm glad you actually found me, now that all the food is getting eaten I will need a new arrangement with the crown.”
“If there is one thing that the crown needn’t worry about, it’s grain.” Roger said between bites. “What would you expect form a new arrangement, at any rate.”
“A good portion has been eaten already, during the siege, before, during this feast. The Crown hardly has the money to buy more grain, and by the actions of Stark then as they often say, winter is coming.” Tion took a bite of pork. “I was imaging, perhaps the twelve thousand gold the Crown needs to pay, in return for its payment with interest of course. I was thinking eight hundred gold pieces a year, in two payments, one at winter and one at summer. With the interests I imagined it would only take the Crown about twenty years to pay it off.”
Roger couldn’t help but chuckle, though he was slightly annoyed that so soon after a battle he was being bothered with matters of the coin again. “I imagine Bloodraven will be thrilled.”
Tion just laughed, “Does he have much choice?” He asked in a more serious tone.
“Perhaps he could ask Reynard for more agreeable terms?” Roger offered, still smiling, though making it quite clear that Tion did not hold every card.
Tion raised an eyebrow, “I take it you mean yourself?” He said before shaking his head, “By all means, you can pay for the Crown, but if you wish then I wonder, why have you not done so already?”
“I haven’t received an offer?” He said with a shrug, drinking from his skin. “Though if I were to own crown debt I would have liked to have acquired it yesterday.”
“And why is that?” Tion asked as he took another bite and looked upon Roger.
“Well, there was uncertainty about Maegor’s future. I imagine it’s value would have risen quite a bit with Blackfyre’s army shattered.” Roger sighed, leaning back. “I’ll talk to Brynden.”
Tion nodded as he looked at Roger with a smile before looking at a girl passing behind him as he turned back to his brother-in-law. “I fear the Iron Bank more than the Blackfyres. Until this is dealt with, nothing is certain.” Tion took another piece of pork as he looked down at his food, “Worst case then Cerenna shall be here to help negotiate.”
“You brought Cerenna?” Roger asked, remembering the Lannister cousin from the times he had traveled to Casterly Rock over the years. She looked every bit the Lannister, acted like it to, as he recalled. “Don’t tell me that means Foote is with the army as well?” He asked, dreading having to deal with Cerenna’s husband.
“I imagine he is drinking, or whoring.” Tion shrugged as he bit a piece of the bread off. “My uncle insisted that I bring her and I could hardly refuse with your sister as regent.”
Roger groaned. “I’m sure he is. Still, I’m not entirely sure that she will be able to intimidate or enrapture Bloodraven.”
Tion just scuffed “She’s a Lannister, she will find her way.”
“Perhaps,” Roger said as he looked over his shoulder, noticing the woman Tion had been looking at. “I don’t suppose you are here at Tully’s party to act like Foote?”
Tion looked down into his cup of wine and shook his head, “No, I just want to go home, I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”
“So quickly?” Roger asked with a bit of amusement. “Is Ellyn’s leash that tight?”
Tion just looked up at him with an annoyed look, “We cannot all sleep with other men's wives.” He responded before continuing. “Besides, there is little for me to do here.”
Roger’s brow furrowed, some of the good nature fading from his face. “The Baratheon wedding was a long time ago Tion, I would not do that to Elisa.”
Tion just laughed heartily as he stood up, “It seems that it is Red Lion of Castamere that has been tamed more so than me.” He said with a happy smile.
“I hardly see her enough to say that, but...her letters say the pregnancy is progressing well.” He said with a grin of his own.
“Im glad, truly.” Tion said, “Perhaps it's time for you to return home for a bit as well.”
“I’ll have to go back sometime soon.” Roger agreed, standing as well. “Hopefully in time to be there for the birth, assuming this matter with the bank can be resolved quickly.”
“Im sure you, Bloodraven and Cerenna will do just that.” Tion said as he started walking towards his tent, “Besides, I would know how I would hate to not be there when my son is born, so.” Tion said with a smirk, “Make Bloodraven agree to my terms quickly.”
“I’ll do what I can,” He said with a laugh as he took another drink and began walking back into the camp. “Well done today Tion.” He called over his shoulder, lifting the skin into the air. Tion mimicking his action as he parted ways.
All the Kings Fish 2/3
The Troutfyre
What madness had made him join the royal host in this endeavour? He could've simply done as expected and remained at King's Landing, drinking and whoring!
But he had not... in a fit of insanity after his knighting he had wanted to make his cousin proud... be proud of himself, and the smith that had forged Troutfyre had only made him a fine suit of armour besides. When the horns had sounded he'd then joined the royal banners in the procession, and soon found himself woefully underequipped for the battles ahead.
His horse, unbarded as he'd been had gone down even before the battle had been joined from an arrow, forcing him to try and reach the mainline of battle on foot. It had been nearly quarter of an hour ago, and he was now thirsty, tired and bruised even afore he'd reached the main battleline. His cousins banner was less than a mile away now, and he could almost hear the cries of "Riverrun" and "Tully!"
Stopping to catch his breath, Elmo thought he'd spotted something from the corner of his eye. A number of fast approaching riders. Squinting, he could feel his blood run cold. Traitors. They rode fast, and were surely about to reach the flank of the main host.
Swallowing, Elmo placed himself before them, hefting the now heavy feeling Troutfyre before him.
The sound of heavy horse galloping grew louder and louder, and Elmo was sure they'd simply ride over him. Closing his eyes tight and giving a fast prayer to the Stranger, for he was surely about to enter his halls, Elmo was surprised when a few moments later as he cracked them open, he was still alive.
The traitors had stopped, and one of them with a blurry sigil was dismounting.
"Run along now little fishy." The man noted mockingly,"And I'll spare your house the humiliation of having to bury you."
For a moment, Elmo almost took him up on that offer, but something stopped him. A visage of his cousin looking upon him with disapproval. He'd ever been one to run from his challenges, and now running would surely lead to the centre being overrun by these Blackfyre pretenders.
Steeling himself, Elmo raised Troutfyre and prepared for a glorious death.
Only for that to be stolen from him as thousands of Westerland Lions suddenly splurged all over him and the Blackfyre pretenders, cleaving and maiming all in their path.