Welcome to A Song of Revenge and Gold: House Malroy Quest. In which you take the reins of a House of storied glorious past since Aegon’s Conquering, but whose fortunes have taken a turn for the worse in the doom that Robert’s Rebellion brought. Taking place in 284AC a year after the Rebellion has ended you are Brynden Malroy, second son to Lord Vamos Malroy and Lady Esemella Hayford and the last living heir to Steadhold and House Malroy.
House Malroy is a pre-genned House designed around the idea of a story within the Crownlands of a House fiercely loyal to the Targaryens and their attempts to live in this new world after Robert’s Rebellion. The new Lord Brynden Malroy is as well pre-genned but will take direction from the players in his ways and how he develops himself further. This Quest will be moderately more story driven than others of its kind, but the development of the House and her lands will take just as much importance.
If you’ve played one of the many Quests within the ASoIaF setting the rules of the SIFRP system should be known. I will be using the Game of Thrones edition, as well as a few of the expansions namely OOSP and a few house rules which will be explained as we come to them. If you have questions about how things work or why certain actions are taken I can explain them as we go along. In truth this is a learning experience for me as well.
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Twitter:
https://twitter.com/RevengeGoldQM
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http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=House%20Malroy
And now without further ado.
>Allow Dontos to speak his mind
You could see this coming from a mile away, you knew he still did not like the idea but it was better to speak about it rather than allow him to stew on the thoughts, “Of course Dontos. Whatever it is.”
Dontos sighs, and dabs away at the small pool of sweat that had collected on his brow with a handkerchief, “I am worried.”
“About?”
“You. Steadhold. Everything. She is still in a poor state of condition, the outermost wall is still in partial ruin, the bridge only serves our smallfolk and is not sound enough to carry our troops or others in defense of Steadhold. We are hardly half of our allowed strength yet we spend resources on ships we will have little access too.”
“And the marriage will more than double our troops and help to secure our borders.”
Dontos ruffles himself up and is silent for a moment watching Lucas and Pryor go at it. Pryor’s defense is keeping pace with Lucas’ offense, easily parrying and pushing away his attacks. Lucas looks to be getting frustrated, profusely even. His attacks are getting sloppier for it. He over extends and Pryor takes a chop at Lucas’ arm and he backs off in pain, attempting to hide behind his shield. The crowd is a low murmur, not being accustomed to the duel of a proper Knight.
“Brynden, I do not wish to be away from Steadhold. If that bloody bastard attacks Steadhold… I do not think she will stand. Even with the relief force from the Chelsteds.”
“What is this really about Dontos?”
“I… I couldn’t save her, she’s in that bastards tower now... Brynden. If you-”
“I won’t die Dontos. Or be captured. Or allow Steadhold to fall.”
“You cannot promise me that nephew.”
Pryor is leading an offensive now, taking strikes at Lucas’ shield here and there. Pushing your Knight across the field and against the barrier. He rolls to the side where a sword would have landed upon his shoulder and bounces his shield into Pryor to gather some distance. However the Knight of Pebble is entirely unfazed, and instead pushes back locking his shield with Lucas and pressing against him into the wall. He unloads a few strikes into Lucas’ side, and takes advantage of the position to bash his head into Lucas’. The crowd gets into it again as Pryor continues to unload on the cornered Lucas.
Lucas looks to be in an incredibly bad position, attempting to press Pryor off with his shield. He digs a strike into Pryor’s side, and for a moment gains the advantage. Lucas dives to the side, neatly rolling away from the wall and his opponent, and reforms into a kneeling stance. You can see his breastplate heaving and he is clearly trying to suck down as much air as possible at the moment. Pryor allows the moment of respite to last, swinging his arm to stretch out and circling around to Lucas’ side, he is clearly less out of breath but is all the same hurting.
The crowd has grown quiet in anticipation, the two Knights watching each other carefully. Your eyes follow Lucas’ movements and you see him ground his back foot, a quick dig into the ground, a second of movement. Pryor seems unaware, visual of minute details obscured by the frog-mouth great helm he wore. Lucas waits for his moment, Pryor’s sword falling to his side lazily, his shield still held up, and he takes it. The younger Longwaters twin launches into his opponent, the crowd roaring into life again as he does so, Pryor not being entirely without his wits manages to get his sword up just in time to land a blow on Lucas but slides harmlessly off of his shield. Lucas follows through with his charge, and wraps his arm around Pryor’s back, pressing their shields together and onto ground with Lucas mounting the Valemen. His shield is pressed firmly against Pryor’s, digging into his chest at an awkward angle, his knee pinning Pryor’s free arm that is desperately reaching for his lost sword. Lucas meanwhile managed to keep his sword in the tumble and raises it for a pommel strike, ringing the Seven Hells out of Pryor’s bell his head whipping to the side by the single strike and arm falling loose. Dontos grunts and you can tell the bout is over before the herald raises a flag, the squires and pages rushing the field to check on Pryor. Lucas has rolled off to the side, throwing his helmet off and breathing deeply. the crowd cheering for the last of the local favorites.
Turning to your Uncle for a moment you fix him with a steady look, his eyes don’t leave the yard, Pryor receiving a healthy bit of smelling salts and coming to with a start, but you note the sigh of exasperation he gives you before continuing, “Promises are words, and words are wind nephew. I did not ask to become a Lord or Lord Protector. I did not ask to leave my brother and your family or my home. Not then and not now. But I do as I am told, what is commanded of me. I simply worry Brynden, if Steadhold falls, if you fall… What few promises I still hold, would be lost to me.”
Promises upon a red door. You remember those words vividly despite having little meaning to place to them.
>Response?
>Move right on?Messed that last post up.
>>45496919
Inform that not doing so would be an even bigger fail. That this is our best chance. We will continue the good work we have done so far. Tell him we are planning to make a banner house at the tower bridge so it will be repaired soon.
Nth for crappy map.
>>45496919
>Response?
"Uncle. I know you're a fine warrior. I know the past weighs heavy on your shoulders. It weighs on us all."
"But despite your sword being my best, you are but one man. You can do more for the safety and security of Steadhold by securing an alliance for the family."
"I am loathe to see you go, it's true. I would prefer that we could stay together in these trying times. I ask you to trust in my judgement."
>>45496919
Uncle I promise you that if the bloody bastard attacks the bridge will be his least of worries. Doubly that when he learns the Black Knight of Malroy is leading a veritable relief force.
Great to see ya Dad was a bit worried it might not happen.
>>45496919
Currently even if we were at max strength we would not hold the bastard off.
Soon we shall visit the hand, and call in the favor we traded our reputation for in dorne, mainly that we are protected, meanwhile we shall bring the local "bandit" problem to the attention of the court after meeting with the other local lords, in a way implicating the bastard. With half a ounch of luck we can swing it so a lot of eyes are watching our border. Right now we have no other choice than to make attacking us as big a deterent as possible, and buy time while we rebuild.
>>45496919
"Uncle, trust me when I say I share your concerns. The entire fate of our house relies on me making the right decisions, and I have begun to feel their weight more and more as the days go by.
That being said, we need allies Uncle. There is a coalition of our enemies waiting at our door step, just waiting for an opportunity to strike and pick apart our House like the wretched carrion they are. We cannot let that happen, Dontos. I cannot let that happen."
>>45496974
>planning to make a banner house at the tower bridge
The question is who?
>>45497164
Solhas Za Tarbeck nah just kidding but it would really be Mason or Victor as they are about the only knights in service that wed trust with that.
>>45497164
I think Lucas would be the best option. He already got 100 men ready to set up
>>45497164
Lucas, Mason or Victor. Heck, eventually all of them if we can secure the lands that prick took
>>45497203
Much as I am loathe to say it, Lucas is a poor choice politically.
As a man with Valyrian blood, it could be interpreted as a slight against the Baratheon crown.
We need to hold off landing any valyrians until we're not in immediate danger of our house being ended.
>>45497164
My vote goes for Mason, it'd be good to keep him close to home. If we ever set Lucas up with one it should be deeper in the Redward's territory when we take it back.
Alright these are all similar enough, I'll put something together.Speaking of landing Knights here's Mason's coat of arms.
>>45497203
>>45497253
>>45497254
I definitely think Lucas should be landed, but I agree that we should wait on landing him until we can get our lands back.
>>45497279
That's metal as fuck.
>>45497253
Officially the land is already Valyrian owned, landing a knight there wont have any political statement.
Not to mention the crown officially gave forgiveness for those who bent the knee, as such throwing up a fuss over the affair would go over badly on the internal relations front, so the hand would veto it.
Holding off until we've settled court relations back to normal again might be wise though.
>>45497279
Nice. Any Words for him if he does get a House? Or he just gonna use the gamecocks motto?
>>45496919
Donto's, Uncle, i love you. I think you are a good man.
But holy shit you are a pussy. You fucked up. I fucked up. We are gonna fuck up at some point in the future. Were making it right. Stop dwelling on shit you can't change and start busting your ass to change it.
No shit you are worried. Fuck, you think I'm not? But goddamn, we gotta take some fucking risks if we want to win. Playing it safe means we get slowly trampled underfoot.
Now go put your baby gravy in that Goddamn cougar.
>>45497323
I was going to use "Lead the Way", funny enough. But open to suggestions, this is of course assuming people actually want to land him.
>>45497423
That house WILL BURN FATHER! DO YOU HEAR ME!? BURN!!!!
>>45497418
This, I'll vote this nine times.
>>45497477
I'd assume this one would rather, Royce's personal arms.The other one is the one of your nieces.
>>45497423
That motherfucker, aping on our style. That fucker is going to get cooked in a brazen horse that we will personally commission and we will listen to it's musical sounds
>>45497522
I think you mean our secret bastard daughter.
>>45497418
In addendum.
You worried about the fortifications? Fine, over the next few months after we get some warm bodies to fill some armor and swing some swords that aren't totally worthless, and you will drill the fuck out of them or so help me Seven I'll make you run behind Goldsong in full plate, We're gonna fix that bridge, then we gonna get the castle walls in order.
You know what, to whip the new recruits in shape have them haul fucking masonry until that wall looks respectable, make the worst recruits do it when we get an engineer.
>>45497532
Brazen horse? Anon that's genius
>>45497532
>>45497561
Isn't that a bit cruel guys?
>>45497631
Don't worry, Copper is a mineral and doesn't feel a thing.
>>45497631
I guess we could go back to the "Death by horse sodomy" If that is the case
>>45497631
The man is raping and abusing our sister anon.
When its family, general mutilation is the usual.
>>45497673
Get a copper mould of a horse cock, shove it up Redward's ass, then throw him a brazen horse and cook that fucker inside and out.
>>45497522
>spoiler
Wait.
Isis is having a girl?
TWO GIRLS!?
>>45497801
Think he is refering to his real life group. Cousin's daughter is Father's gf.
>>45497841
That wouldnt be our niece though just another cousin. I'm just a little upset dad keeps piling shit on Isis. she dindu nuffin!
>>45497743
Take a page out of the Bolton's book and flay him first, and then do all the above. Wouldn't want Redward to have a protective layer of skin to get in the way of all that burning metal.
Jeeze people just have him face down and rip his lungs from his back and keep him alive until they dry in the sun.
>>45497914
I've always been fond of drawing and quartering myself.
>>45497914
Nah, we aint trained in that. The skin will keep him alive longer to suffer more. Peeling it will just let his nerves burn out well before the end.
All jokes aside, im all for just killing the bastard and burning his body. As little time as possible spent on him, just to show how worthless he is.
Honestly all this talk of torture is ludicrous.
Let's just kill him.
>>45497968
It's called a song of revenge and gold nigga, I'd expect nothing less given how angryReward makes Brynden.
By the way Father. You will have to run a "Everyone survived Malroy Quest"
I want to see the entire family be overjoyed that Brynden has returned.
I want to see Isis constantly want to hear about his adventures by slowly gets more and more dissapointed in him as he constantly returns home drunk from his partying.
I want Father and Donold slowly begin to freeze out Brynden as they see what kind of man he has become.
I want to see Pestorn become a better man to make it easier on mother and start resenting the Brynden.
I want to see mother trying to set him up with a sweet noble girl, only to find him parting with the Sons of Gold with a whore on his lap and a wineskin to his lips.
Victus will ofcourse be a adorable little shit that charms everyone.
>>45498006
That sounds like disgusting wankery, no thank you.
>>45498023
I second this sentiment.
The finals for the Melee were set, Ser Ambrose Oatwright, the Hedge Knight from the Stormlands of a dead House an absolute beast upon the field, the man who for most of the melee was a loner, but an impressive warrior all the same. The second was your Knight, a close friend, the brother of perhaps one of your closest allies, a Knight of the highest caliber and of course the hometown favorite. The smallfolk of Steadhold knew the man well, his reputation as a jovial fair man about the streets endeared many to his side and you could hear it in the way they cheered for him. There was a brief moment between the final round where you were allowed to continue your conversation with Dontos. It annoyed you, it had been spoken of before. You knew the reasons behind every word he said, except for the one behind that red door.
“Dontos trust me when I say that I share in your concerns. Truly I do. Every day I feel the weight grow heavier upon my shoulders. Forgotten promises are the least of my concerns when there is a coalition of enemies waiting upon my doorstep ready to tear my House, my family limb from limb like the wretched carrion they are and finish the job they so poorly began a year ago.”
Dontos remains quiet, his eyes focused on the field again, watching as they disassemble the barrier allowing the full length of the yard to be used for the final duel. You take his silence as a prompt to continue.
>>45498044
>>45498023
Whats wrong with adorable Victus ?
>>45498058
Its redundant, hes already adorable without having to take away time from the normal quest.
“Uncle you understand that if that bloody bastard was to attack now, a broken bridge would be the least of my concerns. Even at our full strength we could not defend Steadhold for long. They would starve us. Besiege us, and there would be no one there to lead a relief. The Longwaters too weak, the Hayfords as broken as we. I need someone out there I can trust. I need you Dontos. The Black Knight of Malroy, the man that strikes fear into the heart of man to be the looming shadow as you are to me now. But with a veritable army of our allies at your back. You are my best and truest sword Dontos, and I am loathe to have you away from me. And perhaps I cannot make you promises but I need you to please trust my judgement in this, as your brother’s son, as your Lord. The Lord you helped me become.”
His eyes break from the field and he turns to you, inclining his head so you can see the stormy dark eyes that reminded you he truly was your family, the decedent of Ser Aeson Malroy of Valyria. It always amused you to remember Aeson had been a forgotten fifth or sixth son of a grand dynasty. Cast off for following the Targaryens to Dragonstone. And now his seed was all that remained. It brokered the love you held for your family, for Isis so far away and Dontos here in this moment. For your son. Dontos sighs and regards you fully, “Your father use to speak to me such as this. You have his fiery passion. Something that will never be quenched. Fine, I will set my worries aside, I trust in you Brynden. It has been far too long a coming thing.”
You smile, and he laughs a bit in response to you grabbing his arm and giving it a firm shake, before saying, “Now man the fuck up and marry the Lady. And I’ll build your damn wall and bridge. And make a damn army. Hell I’ll land a fucking Knight in the broken tower bridge across the Rush if I need to. We’ll take the risks we need to to get this done Dontos, Seven be damned.”
Dontos rolls his eyes, brushing your hand off with a movement of his arm, “Seven be good, you take the risks Brynden. I will be risking enough sharing a bed with that hellion of a woman.”
“Afraid she’ll make yo-”
“Enough nephew.
You turn to laughter again and he shakes his head in disapproval, his brow having began to collect sweat again and red as a maiden’s cheeks, but minding the yard once again as the herald comes to the middle, calling attention to the two Knights that follow. Ser Ambrose Oatwright is announced first, laying his greatsword before you in a deep bow. Ser Lucas Longaters second, playing to the crowd a moment before kneeling his sword stuck in the dirt. You stand to regard them both, a waved hand of approval and they both rise to take their positions. Lucas looks to be as patched up as he can be, Benjin doing his quick good work, and Oatwright looks about as fresh as a man that has been beaten on all day can be. The herald raises his flag, the crowd calming, you even catch yourself leaning forward, watching with intent eyes. It drops, a grand swing whipping the purple and black flag through the evening sun, the crowd roaring into life and the two Knights taking the final charge of the day towards one another.
>Speak with Dontos about your Knights, his opinions on whom, if any you should land
>Speak with Dontos about Steadhold, his major concerns regarding rebuilding the city
>>45498006
I'll call it A Song of Disappointment and Wasting Gold. And probably not, I can't write poor Esemella being sad that her son is a fuck up.
>>45498093
>>Speak with Dontos about your Knights, his opinions on whom, if any you should land
If we can't do both to pick his mind for any last council.
>>45498093
>Speak with Dontos about your Knights, his opinions on whom, if any you should land
>>45498093
Both? I pick both
>>45498093
>I'll call it A Song of Disappointment and Wasting Gold. And probably not, I can't write poor Esemella being sad that her son is a fuck up.
Come on. It would be great to see everyones reaction when Brynden tells about the time he was in a harem in Lys.
>>45498093
>Speak with Dontos about your Knights, his opinions on whom, if any you should land
>Speak with Dontos about Steadhold, his major concerns regarding rebuilding the city
I like talking to Dontos, he's a good dude
>>45498093
>>Speak with Dontos about your Knights, his opinions on whom, if any you should land
>>45498093
>Speak with Dontos about your Knights, his opinions on whom, if any you should land
>Speak with Dontos about Steadhold, his major concerns regarding rebuilding the city
>>45497801
Oh did I say nieces? Maybe. Could be. We'll see in about 3 months.
>all this torture talk
Good lord.The brazen horse is my favorite.I suspect Isis will have some input on this subject.
>>45498264
>I suspect Isis will have some input on this subject.
The family that flays together stays together.
>>45498304
lays*
>>45498264
Father, you never got to reply in the last thread but what do you think would happen if Brynden went full Targ with Isis ?
>>45498379
Stop with that bullshit.
>>45498379
>>45498426
Quit it
>>45498504
>>45498526
Stop what bullshit?
I was making a joke, and I got the impression >>45498426 only wants father to answer so he can tell folks how ridiculous it'd be.
>>45498644
>only wants father to answer so he can tell folks how ridiculous it'd be.
Pretty much and also a general curiousity.
>>45498264
The brazen horse is my favorite too. You have good taste dad
>>45498644
I think it has more to do the last time you were pushing for Brynden to fuck his sister when he gets her back and the fact your Targfag ya klnow?
So did dad's interwebs shut off again?
>>45498675
It'd be hilarious, but the Targaryens only got away with it for so long because they were kings and queens supported by literal superweapons.
Malroy ain't that.
>>45498716
Man bugger off, he usually makes rather large updates
Ambrose’s wide sweeping strikes open up the finals of the Melee in Steadhold, Lucas reacts immediately taking the strike to his last shield of the day. the crimson seahorse upon the field of seafoam cracking a bit from the bite of the blade. You had always thought the colors were horridly ugly, always laughing at them when Lucas stood across from you in the practice yard, the long shield hung up alongside the rest of your Household’s in the armory. Lucas often returned your laughter, taking shots at your horse, instead saying it should be a golden arrow as poor a rider you were. A dispute often settled with a horse race, that you usually (always) won. Lucas holds his guard steady in the face of his opposition, allowing a distance to grow between them as he side stepped another overhead blow. Oatwright seemed to wish this over with quickly, his last opponent, your cousin having taken the wind out of him by being a quick young man and his opponent before Ser Duncan having hammered the hell out of the few times he had gotten into range to do so. They trade blows a few times before Dontos gains your attention speaking again.
“You wish to land a Knight Brynden?”
Thinking for a moment you shrug, “Heat of the moment. But… Yes perhaps, the tower once held a Knight did it not?”
“The bridge tower historically was the domain of the second son, or closest cousin of the main branch of House Malroy. Yes. They did not hold lands, but it was a place of honor amongst the family. During the Great Spring Sickness, in 209AC was it? Benjin would know the history… Whenever it was, the tower contracted the disease, every man, woman, and child died, spreading it to the outer ring even and effectively wiping out the secondary branch of the House. Their shield is the one with three horses by the hearth in the great hall. They cleansed it with fire, and it stood barren. It fell to disrepair, and when they sacked the city, I assume it was finally felled.”
>>45498264
If Isis wants him tortured, I'd agree with it given she suffered the most at his hands. I wouldn't take any particular joy out of it, other then having the revenge be done with once he's dead.
That being said, I do find the idea of Brynden spending his time thinking up elaborate ways of torturing Redward amusing. It's good to have a few hobbies
“But it could be repaired, it is in not so bad a condition, perhaps two years at the most?”
“Perhaps, though I would place more importance on the bridge herself.”
You nod and fall into watching the melee again. Lucas is entirely on the offensive now, his sword lashes barely being parried by Oatwright’s greatsword. He wasn’t a defensive fighter, it was easy enough to see, against someone like Dontos he would have been stomped into the ground in short order. Lucas fought like Dontos to a degree, not at the same caliber to be certain, but all the same a fine Knight. He takes a swinging step and crunches his sword into Oatwright’s side, finally pushing him off balance, and forcing him to gain distance, a sweeping strike keeping Lucas away during his retreat.
“Who would it be Brynden?” Dontos asks suddenly.
“I hadn’t honestly decided yet. A passing thought for now. Why?”
“If you rebuild the tower, install a Knight. Give them a Household, mayhaps land in the future? They would become second to our own House in Steadhold. The first line of defense upon the western shore. We once thought the Redwards our loyal vassals, ‘Under shining Star, our line shall hold,” were their words once. Now they are corrupt, a robber bastard and his bandits. If you raise a Knight, he must be someone you trust dearly, without fail. Someone that will not sell out our family to their benefit now or years from now.”
He raise an eyebrow, looking Dontos over, he was sincere, despite his focus being the battlefield, “Then who do you think would be the best candidate Dontos?”
Your uncle sighs, adjusting again, silent for a moment long enough for you to watch the melee. Lucas had just dodged another strike and crunched his shield into Oatwright’s face. He stumbles back, and Lucas follows up with another swing of his sword, landing in his poorer side of ribs, something that Duncan and Wesley had both soften up in the previous bouts. The crowd is livid for the moment and Lucas loses his focus, pandering far too much to them. Seeing the opportunity Oatwright shoulders his blade through a grunt of pain and charges into Lucas, giving him a hell of a hammerblow with the pommel of his sword that dents into the side of his gorget. Lucas now takes a stumble, falling to a knee, his breathing again ragged and heavy.
“Certainly not Ser Lucas, not yet. He is far too young of yet, not unlike yourself when you returned. Ser Victor is a choice, but unlikely your own, he is set to inherit House Haigh should his uncle not give issue. Duncan and the rest of these new Knights are just that, far too new.”
“Leaving?”
Dontos sighs and again shifts uncomfortably, you knew Dontos hadn’t been keen on Mason, being a bastard of the Reach and your closest friend outside of Illiad in Essos, he finally speaks, “Ser Mason has more than proven he is the right man for the job. I cannot speak to the man before I knew him… But he has done well by our family this past year. I would recommend him, in all truth nephew. Despite my initial misgivings of the bas- Man.”
A laugh plays on your lips for a moment, eyes cast to Mason and Elionwy sitting below you, her arm wrapped around his own. Mason had become your right hand man in Steadhold of all things martial, he took care of it all. Had he stayed with the Second Sons, someday he could have lead them you often thought. But here he was, the man that pulled you from a drunken stupor on the streets of Tyrosh. Distant favors, perhaps to be repaid in the future, he could even marry. You hadn’t seen him so happy with a woman in years. It was… Odd.
“Honest counsel, thank you Dontos.”
>Move on to speaking of rebuilding Steadhold?
>Something else about Knights? (Specify)Damn tiny bits leftover posts.
>>45498716
Na just fitting in the melee, talking with Dontos and some exposition/history takes a good bit of time to throw together.
>>45498972
I think we're good. Dontos has already kind of stated that we should prioritize repairing the bridge and curtain wall
>>45498972
>>Move on to speaking of rebuilding Steadhold?
>>45498972
>>Move on to speaking of rebuilding Steadhold?
>>45498972
>>Move on to speaking of rebuilding Steadhold?
>>45497952
While I like the sentiment that Redward should be stuck with a sword and be done with it, I disagree with it. Redward and his house were supposed to be our loyalest of bannermen, and they betrayed us and sacked our city. Redward needs to be made an example of, to show what we do to traitors like him. It's kind of like the Samuel thing, only ten times more serious.
>>45499233
Then string his body up at the gate. Or to quote a dwarf:
Heads, Pikes, Walls.
>>45499272
I think we should leave the decision to Isis. If she wants him tortured to death then we should oblige her no matter how cruel the method. Redward deserves no less for his crimes
>>45499344
I think thats the general consensis yes, i was just putting in a reply for this train of thought.
>>45498972
>Move on to speaking of rebuilding Steadhold?
>>45499344
Lets just hope she hasn't developed Stockholm syndrome by then. Heaven forbid if she asks us to pardon the bastard.
>>45499394
Somehow i doubt it. Considering the contents of her letter. We'll probably be in a safe position to move on redward in a couple years (another 2 dozen threads from now, if were lucky).
“May I ask more though?” you ask to a nodded response from your uncle, “Steadhold… You seemed so concerned about the Curtain Wall, the bridge, are they truly so broken?”
“Yes and no nephew. Of the three, the curtain wall is perhaps the most damaged. Along the eastern bank where the port once was the Wet Gate has turned to rust, leaving a rather gaping hole a ship could fit through. The wall in the area has sunk with age. Further east to the King’s Gate the wall is shattered about where the catapults launched rock into them, not so much as to give easy entrance, but enough that it would not be a hard task to finish the job. King’s Gate still hasn’t been repaired proper either, needing a new door.”
You frown, it had sat in the back of your mind how poor of shape Steadhold had been in when you returned, only the castle and her defensive wall being in shape. The outer ring had been a burnt out mess, and the stone crumbled broken from siege.
“The bridge would be difficult, for another reason. The water still is too high from that storm and it being wet season still. She needs her supports rebuilt and strengthened. While the top needs to be restoned. Then she would become the defensive chokepoint she once was.”
“And of the city?”
“We need to continue building her back up, in short. A hamlet is the best definition of what the outer ring is now. Much of the new construction is focused around the Sept. We need to rebuild the port, but not haven’t the town to man nor warrant it yet. In truth nephew, I know I will be away soon. And while I can bring you relief, I will not be able to do so without the city being rebuilt. The wall comes first, the bridge and outer ring next. Then I would consider your landing of a Knight in the tower bridge. Though not until after a port. That is my recommendation Brynden. It is what I would do.”
You quiet, thinking the words over. Your focuses had been about your lands at first, Steadhold receiving a cursory glance at best until your infrastructure had been rebuilt. Your army had suffered for it, and so had your city. And now you had interests abroad upon Crackclaw Point and Long Isle. There was a worry of over extending yourself, your House’s resources, Redward was an idiot, but not so much as to recognize when you were stretched thin.
Lucas and Oatwright’s duel pulls attentions again and you begin to see the beginning of the end. Oatwright is listing badly from a flurry of blows Lucas had just landed. His sword meeting his opponents side repeatedly before a kick to Oatwright’s unprotected knee had sent him reeling back. Lucas pushes into Oatwright, his shield in tatters along his arm, the iron band having lost most of the wood, he tears away what is left and two hands his sword. Oatwright manages to get his sword up in time, meeting the blows, Lucas looks focused. The swirl of grey and crimson favor wrapped around the hilt of his blade whipping about as his blows become more furious, more focused. The crowd is in an absolute fervor, screaming for the end to come. Oatwright is on his back foot, being pushed across the field towards the grandstand, matching blows but faltering still. Their blades lock and Lucas presses into him, their guards entangling, and they stand for a moment face to face. A moment that feels like time has stopped for it. Oatwright’s scream of fury pulls reality back to it, his rage fuels his push and he gains the upper hand in their stand off, pressing Lucas back, his feet giving ground. His feet, readjusting, into a swing, to the side. Lucas breaks, near falling over to the side to allow Oatwright to follow through with his push, upon the empty air.
He stumbles, falling to a knee as his sword launches into the ground, and Lucas recovers, quickly, moving with a swift moment to drop his knee into the back of Oatwright’s, grinding his empty shield arm into his back, and bring his sword to his neck. The Stormlander’s hands are still gripped firmly onto his greatsword, the crowd quieting waiting to see if he will relent. Lucas pushes his blade closer, yelling through strained voice to surrender. You lean forward, watching Oatwright’s hands, they hold firm for a moment before breaking, letting go of the sword and raising, surrendering.
The crowd roars into life again, Lucas’ voice becoming lost in the all the noise. You see Ser Jon Longwaters on his feet clapping, little Aenys upon his shoulders yelling for his uncle. Your grandstand is all claps, and nods of approval from Dontos and the other martial members of your Household. Lady Racheal Conklyn looks to be in near tears, of mixed joy, fear and relief. Lucas falls to the side, with Oatwright falling forward, a fist pounding onto the ground. The pages and squires gather about them, Lucas happy for the help up, ripping his helmet from its place upon his head, a smile broadly across his face, through bloody teeth. Oatwright is pushing a squire off of himself and Lucas takes note, walking with what strength is left over to his opponent, offering a hand. The Stormlander looks to it for a moment, and Lucas speaks, something you cannot hear to a nodded response and Oatwright taking his and allowing himself to be pulled up. Lucas embraces his opponent and raises his hand in a show of respect receiving a round of applause for the effort.
You stand, and Dontos looks over to you, “Thank you for your concerns and counsel today Dontos. They mean much, but perhaps now I should honor the victor of my Melee.”
Dontos nods a faint smile upon his mouth.
>Honor Lucas at the feast tonight
>Honor Lucas nowAnd we're done with that.
>>45499819
>>Honor Lucas at the feast tonight
>>45499819
>>Honor Lucas at the feast tonight
Give him a small nod though.
For anyone curious, the winner of the Melee recieved 400 gold dragons (basically the 2 wealth that got invested into the unit), a golden courser on par with Goldsong (so a war-trained horse with the rare bloodline), and of course the honor being the head of your Household Knights and captain of the unit.
Any other prizes will be administered by Lady Racheal tonight.
>>45499819
>>Honor Lucas at the feast tonight
>>45499819
>>Honor Lucas at the feast tonight
>>45499912
So your saying dont get him too drunk.
>>45499819
>Honor Lucas at the feast tonight
Alright let me grab a quick bite to eat and we'll be on our way. That was all stuff I wanted to do last thread, so I just ended up cramming it all together. Kind of a mess but it is what it is. Feast, treaty, trial. Then we'll move on finally, I'm in the mood for some numbers, hopefully at the end of this thread.
>>45500084
YAY!
So here's an idea.
Land Knight
Let them rebuild tower and bridge. we can just give them the bridge I guess?
We rebuild curtain wall and town
murder royce
We could do that yeah?
>>45500162
Nah, rebuild the walls first. I agree with Domtos' counsel completely
>>45500162
Go with our uncles plan I say, landing a knight before a real tower is built comes off as a fob off, insult or just generaly that your too poor to actually propperly land a knight.
Dontos laughs, “Tonight nephew, at the feast. Allow him the moment for now.”
You nod with a slight laugh, Lucas had directed his help towards the grandstand, taking a heavy almost falling knee in your honor, before you shake your head and raise him with your hand. His eyes of forgotten purple meet with your own of wildfire green and you exchange nods, his smile playing upon a fat lip. He comes to the grandstand and embraces with Lady Racheal who is near falling off the grandstand, he pulls her down to himself, a small shirek of terror turns to laughter as Lucas swings her around and they embrace. Racheal pushes him off when she realizes he had gotten blood all over her dress, and finally Lucas relents allowing Grant to help him to Benjin.
“Keep him close Brynden. Someday, he’ll be the best you have. And… I wouldn’t trust anyone else to be in my spot when I leave more,” Dontos turns on his heel and leaves off, the heavy steps of his boots falling silent as the crowd’s noise overtakes it. You watch him leave, Victus following after in a quick step, and suddenly feel the distance there soon will be.
---
The grand hall is absolutely packed today, a table below your own is filled with the ranks of the your new Knights, beaten to absolute pieces, but still jovial and happy all the same. Wesley is not among them, nor is Winston in the hall. All of your Household has turned out for the evening, all the Lords and Ladies that had attended crammed onto what tables you could pull together. The Crackclaw Point Lords celebrated with their respective Knights and families. Upon the floor swung the Knights and Ladies in a small dance lead by the bard you had paid for the week’s worth of entertaining. To your right sat your empty chair, Obella’s in a few months, followed by Dontos, to your left, Ser Lucas Longwaters, alongside him Lady Racheal Conklyn, who was already teasing him profusely about the batter lip he had received. Three dishes into the feast you had already had your fair share to drink and were simply enjoying the noise at the moment, before Arron tapped on your shoulder, whispering that the honors were ready.
The fourth course of the meal came out next, of wild boar caught earlier in the day with aid of Solhas and Barq Zos, a gorgeous creature, and it was placed before you nearly eating the entirety of your upper body from view. Lucas has a laugh at your expense and to compensate you stand upon your seat, a foot steadying itself upon your table. A quick wave to the herald calls the attention of the entire grand hall to you, the dance floor clearing, eyes your way, voices quieted.
“It was not too long ago a man honored me in King’s Landing. His family, a guest in my own villa, pouring every coin they could to provide a feast, a banquet, entertainment, joy to their host in honor of his victory upon the field. An Archery Contest. Won upon a black arrow. That day I was gifted a stock of blackshafted arrows, of the finest ebony wood, feathers so dark they are invisible in the night, and blackiron any smith would be jealous of. A name stuck with me that day, Brynden Blackshaft. Fitting. But it was not the feasts, the gifts, the names that honored me most. It was the friendship I made. The Longwaters are known as a forgotten House, a footnote upon history by their own admission, and to this I say no. Today we honor one of their very best, their own, a man I have come to know as a friend, one of the first I made upon my return to Westeros. A man who I have come to know as a warrior so fearsome even my own Uncle the Black Knight of Malroy Ser Dontos, has come to respect his prowess. Yes today we come to honor a man that not seven days prior had married a wonderful young lady and swore a promise to win this melee in her honor. Today, Lords, Ladies, Knights of the Seven Realm and men and women of the world beyond, we honor my friend, SER LUCAS LONGWATERS. Champion of the Melee in Steadhold! The first of many to come and another step towards the greatness my House once held. Another step with a friend. Another with you all! A toast!”
“A TOAST!” they all call back enthralled by your words, raising their glasses to meet your own.
“To my champion, Ser Lucas Longwaters! To greatness!”
“TO GREATNESS!” they reply and all drink, before bursting into cheers.
You fall back into your seat, finishing the rest of your cup, and motioning for Arron to gather you more. Lucas grabs onto your neck and embraces you, pressing his forehead against your own, “Thank you my friend. Though I believe you owe me a horse.”
“Can’t very well bring a horse into the grand hall Lucas,” you laugh together, “Though truly it is the greatest honor to have you by my side.”
He wrestles with you for a moment before Lady Racheal pulls him back to herself, draping an arm across his chest and pulling for him to dance alongside the others now that the music had resumed.
“Brynden, come, dance with us. There is certainly no lack of fine young ladies that would love to dance with our esteemed Lord. That Brune girl hasn’t taken her eyes off of you since the beginning of the week,” Lucas jests as Lady Racheal pulls him up.
“Yes come my Lord. We should so like to see you enjoy the night for once rather than retire early,” Racheal adds with a bit of a pout.
>Relent and join them for a dance
>Decline
>>45500844
>>Relent and join them for a dance
Not too much wine or drink for the night and make damn sure that we go to bed with no female company by our side.
>>45500844
>>Relent and join them for a dance
We should dance
>>45500844
>>45500859
Second
>>45500844
>>Relent and join them for a dance
>>45500859
Forgot to add the caveat of Illiad to that. Because its fucking Illiad.
>>45500844
>Relent and join them for a dance
This is a feast in someone elses honor primarily, it would be rude to slink off before the guest of honor gets dragged to his chambers.
>>45500844
>Relent and join them for a dance
No sleeping around, but dancing and flirting a little is fine
>>45500962
I'm not sure if Brynden does dudes. I know Illiad swings both ways but I don't think it was ever mentioned if Brynden did
>>45501456
I doubt he does, otherwise he might not tease his uncle quite so much, or be more explicit.
His womanizing side suggests against it.
Your eyes cast about the room, the very bottom of the room is occupied by the lesser members of your Household, their own dancing far away from the proper dance of the Westerosi form before you. It wasn’t particularly difficult for you to do one or the other, though you vastly preferred the former. Lady Racheal had taken to now pulling you up by your collar, Lucas doing little to help but laugh.
“Fine, fine, I give, you win, I will dance. But not too much.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Fine. But not too much wine-”
Lady Racheal fixes you with a stern look, and Lucas falls to pieces laughing again.
“Alright some wine. Seven above Lucas how do you..?”
“Carefully. Don’t forget she’s your problem now too. Steadhold is only so big.”
Joining in on his laughter your pull yourself off and wave them forward, following after, grabbing a goblet of wine as you go, and draining most of it in one gulp, long night. Longer day on the morrow. The band launches into The Bear and the Maiden Fair, much to the joy of many of the dancers already there. You find yourself paired with a young lady that had come with after your trip from Dorne, Lady Nera Dayne, she was one of Obella’s handmaidens and was preparing the castle to receive her. You remembered dancing with her in Dorne, the fiery little minx daring you as much as as she could. In your own halls she had been much more subdued, but gave you small smiles all the same when you passed by, something she repeated now across from you.
Dancing brought a smile to your lips again, the swinging movements and laughter, the joy, the slight sensual moves that brought Nera closer to you at every pass. It was enjoyable, and your head was swimming between that and the wine. Your feel yourself resist her temptation, and push off when she gets a bit too close during a pass, giving her a playful smile, and her rolling her eyes before continuing. Lucas looks an absolute mess on the dance floor his side hurting with every swing, Racheal looks annoyed but all the same allows him to leave off with her help not soon after.
“My Lord may I have a dance?” she asks coming back and curtsying with a playful little smile.
You allow a hand, and she takes it, swinging into your step with a slight giggle but clearly not in the same way as Nera danced with you. The bard begins a slower song that you can’t remember the name of off the top of your head and you lead her in an easy waltz about the dance floor, being the absolute perfect example of chivalry.
“You are a very good dancer my Lord.”
“A lot of practice my Lady.”
“Your new wife is a very lucky Lady, my Lord.”
She laughs as you twirl her, and she leaves off the song ending, she flashes you a look that reminds you that you still owe her one more still and you roll your eyes in response. A tap on your shoulder brings your attention to a pretty slight thing, her hair in brunette curls, and hazel eyes upon the ground, Lady Brune it would seem, “My Lord, my name is Alyce Brune. May I have this dance?”
Roll 3d6 for Will.
Rolled 1, 6, 1 = 8 (3d6)
>>45501576
I hope I crit fail
Rolled 4, 6, 1 = 11 (3d6)
>>45501576
Here comes the triple ones...
Rolled 6, 4, 2 = 12 (3d6)
>>45501576
Come on lad.
>>45501621
>>45501630
>>45501637
Hahahahaha
>>45501672
GODDAMNIT DAD! We failed didnt we?
>>45501672
That's kind of bullshit dad, I'm not going to lie
>>45501719
not kind of it is.
>>45501719
>>45501767
Cry more. Totally in character, dad has been dropping obvious hints for threads.
>>45501672
At least we get to bang a hot chick
>>45501822
Yeah after saying fucking not to? BULLSHIT!
>>45501852
Presumably that's what got us the will roll.
>>45501719
>>45501767
>>45501852
Obella understands. I mean we only slept with her in the first place because we have no willpower, right?
>>45501852
It's fine, ain't nothing to be mad about. I didn't want to fuck a random chick either but I'm not going to complain.
>>45501875
We slept with her twice, only one had a will roll
I'm just gonna say that I've binged the archive in two days, and you've made the best GoT quest since Karban, not to shit on the others, but I get a greater feel of immersion from this one than the others. Keep up the great work, I can't believe we're getting HDW!
>>45501868
>>45501876
Except she is the duaghter/sister of one of the Crackclaw point lords! THE FUCKING ALLIANCE THAT WE HAVENT FINALIZED YET!
>>45501672
Fuck you man, we said no to sleeping around, you shouldn't rob of us agency like that.
>>45501876
It's not fine, it jeapordizes the alliance we spent he last several threads going over. This is not cool and I'm right with anon in calling bullshit.
>>45501921
Don't get your hopes up yet anon, we just botched a Will roll
>>45501672
Despite it being arguably in-character, I still feel this is BS dad.
>>45501921
>best GoT quest since Karban
Holy shit, that reminds me that once Obama leaves the White House Princely can back.
>>45501972
I say we chill out for minute and see what happens, then we can be angry
Choo choo motherfuckers, this is what we get for being polite. Next time don't take the fucking bait, because dad will fuck you for it
>>45502008
We are gonna wake up with her in our bed.
>>45502012
We've made our bed, now we need to lie in it.With the Brune girl.
Success, one degree(It was a DC 12, just wanted to fuck with you guys. Worth it.)
“I loved a maid as fair as summer,
with sunlight in her hair.”
You extend a hand and nod, her eyes leave the floor and finally meet yours, a small smile spreads across her face, accepting your hand. The song reminded you of Myr, a sad yet sweet song called ‘The Seasons of My Love’. It was a favorite of bards and singer when asked for a slow song when you were in Essos, it was a sweet sound to your ears. Alyce places a hand upon your shoulder and you lead her in the steps of a basse danse.
“I loved a maid as red as autumn,
with sunset in her hair…”
Lady Aylce draws close to you, her nerve attempting to steel itself, though doing little but producing a smile. For a moment the memory surfaces, of times across the Narrow Sea, in courts of the Free Cities. Times in Myr, times when you only sought to forget. Distant years past. Of the first times you danced with Lysa, and the pain you would push down with women and wine. Only seeing release in battle. It reminded you of who you once were. But the movements didn’t feel right, they were not as practiced, no aggression, no passion. Your mind remembers the time, the place, it remembers Obella. And for a brief moment, you feel something beyond a base desire.
“I loved a maid as white as winter.
with moonglow in her hair.”
The song ends and you leave off with a soft kiss to Lady Alyce’s hand. Though your mind felt an odd mush of emotion and wine, it was oddly at peace. As if something had clicked into place it had yet to realize. Maybe that or it wanted more wine, that one was the easier one. A goblet finds its way to your hand as you drop back into place beside Lucas and Racheal, drawing an odd eye from the former that you wave off.
>>45501672
Fuck you, this is Shadow Master levels of railroading and you know it. Way to not only fuck your players, but be a dick about it
---
Your head only felt the slight sting of a hangover and an empty bed which you were thankful for, the former was nothing a mite of food wouldn’t fix. Perhaps another drink would do you even better given the contents of the day. A somber day after the revelry of the last week. You would be signing the contract to bind the alliance with the Crackclaw Point Lords, and also overseeing the trial of your cousin Ser Samuel Hayford. Many of the vistors either took leave the night prior, or would be at some point today. Leaving the audiences rather small for the day’s activity, both of which waited for you to begin.
>Go and finalize the deal with the Crackclaw Point Lords
>Oversee Samuel’s trial
>>45502064
Dad fuck you. Just fuck you you asshole. Just looked at the thread.
>>45502084
>>Go and finalize the deal with the Crackclaw Point Lords
>>45502084
>Go and finalize the deal with the Crackclaw Point Lords
>>45502064
Damnit dad, you ruseman, don't scare us like that.
>>45502064I too know the joys of shitposting as a QM.
>>45502084
>Go and finalize the deal with the Crackclaw Point Lords
>>45502096
>>45502123
After the Celtigar incident I wouldn't ever railroad you guys like that. I just wanted to have a laugh. And I did, never change /tg/. I'm only a little sorry.
>>45502084
>Oversee Samuel’s trial
Wesley will be there, and we can speak about finalizing with him there after he trial
>>45502064
>(It was a DC 12, just wanted to fuck with you guys. Worth it.)
Fucking Kek
>>45502084
>>Go and finalize the deal with the Crackclaw Point Lords
Fuck Samuel
>>45502147
>I'm only a little sorry.
Don't even be that. /tg/'s "Can't ever fail a roll" mentality needs to be made fun of whenever possible.
>>45502084
>Oversee Samuel’s trial
Family comes first, we should be there for Winston and Wesley
>>45502084
>Oversee Samuel’s trial
We should be there for Wes, then invite him to the meeting so he has something to keep his mind off this
>>45502084
>>Oversee Samuel’s trial
>>45502084
>Oversee Samuel’s trial
>>45502147
I'd be more mad but I'm honestly just relieved
>>45502084
>Go and finalize the deal with the Crackclaw Point Lords
>>45502147
As an aside ya might want to archive before someone else does and fucks it up.
>>45502084
>Oversee Samuel’s trial
Alright we're going to go with Samuel's trial.
Poor guy.
Well I thought it was funny at least.
>>45502367
Fuck Samuel ,he is lucky to get the black.
>>45502169
Failing a roll is fine when it is an action we are purposefully making or when it is reactionary, but we specifically said no to sleeping around and no man is completely leaved of sense that he'd lose the ability to choose whether to have sex unless he was being raped or drugged to the point where he completely loses inhibition. I have been fucking piss drunk, and I still have enough sense in me to act independently.
>>45502143
Man it looks like the anti spiral is drooling. What does an anti spiral even drool? Dark matter?
>>45502388
Well if depends on whether you think brynden as a character has anything to him beyond /tg/'s suggestions. Personally, I think he does, so when opportunities come up that see him going right up alongside his vices/flaws it makes sense to me to roll to have to roll to resist those flaws.
>>45502388
Oh get over it. It was a joke and the DC was really low
>>45502478
I am over it, but I was merely arguing Targfag's assertion that we were complaining because we botched the roll.
Dressing yourself in your more subdued clothing you decide it for the best to see to Samuel’s trial before you deal with the Crackclaw Point Lords, no doubt it would consume the better part of the day, and they would need to stay the night, a small price to pay to end the day on a somewhat high note. You send Arron off to alert those necessary for the trial and decide to take your time getting dressed before leaving your room in quiet somber step.
“My Lord?” you hear Benjin’s voice call to you from the grand hall where the trial is to be held. In was far less decorated than the night prior, a few rows of pews sit beyond the long table where you are usually sat, a small dial placed before it where Samuel will be held for the duration. You’ve little doubt it’ll be a particularly long affair.
“Yes Benjin?”
“May I introduce to you Master Saul Compton. He is a Master-of-law that practices in King’s Landing. I sent word to him and he has come to oversee the proceedings. As uneventful as they will be.”
A tall thin man comes down from the your long table, dressed in charcoal clothing with ruffled ends, his head balding, the fuzz on the side a light grey. He extends a hand and you take it, his shake far lighter than your own. He gives you a slight bow and you return with a nod before he launches into introductions, “Master is a bit of an over exaggeration my Lord. Mister Compton is enough for me. I am of the understanding today’s proceedings of are a rather personal nature?”
“To say the least Mister Compton,” you respond and explain the details of the trial.
Saul strokes at his goatee and nods along with your story, “Rather damning my Lord. Well, allow me the next few hours, we shall see this at the very least done by midday. My Lord.”
Benjin turns to you and you shrug, not entirely sure of your impression of the man as of yet. The rest of the morning is spent filling the seats, Lord Clarence Crabb makes an appearance as does his Knight Ser Quinton Crabb. Dontos is not soon after taking his seat next to you upon the long table, Mason, Victor, and Lucas taking up positions behind you. Winston and Wesley are of the last to appear taking seats opposite of Saul Compton. The hall is a soft murmur, until the door comes open and a rather disholved Samuel Hayford is brought forward between two of your garrison. His hands are chained, his eyes look ragged, and hair eschew. The usual green and yellow of his clothing looks worn out, and his eyes are faced forward pressed against those of his brother, Wesley meeting them with resolve, his father being less steeled, facing away.
They chain him to the dial and he looks away to meet with Saul Compton who walks down and towards him, pulling a scroll from his pockets, “Ser Samuel Hayford. You are accused of assault and battery of the Lord of this household, Lord Brynden Malroy. And attempted assault of a Knight in his service, Ser Mason Flowers. In doing so you broke guest right, insulted not only the honor of the Lord but his Household, and struck family. A crime in the eyes of both the Old Gods and New. I ask you Ser Samuel Hayford for do you plead?”
The small gathering turns to Samuel, and he sighs, deeply, watching his father as he speaks, “I demand a trial by combat. As is my right. May the Seven judge me upon the field.”
“Very well. My Lord, as is your right you may reject this demand. If you choose to accept, you may name your champion or be your own. As is your right,” Saul draws, pushing the odd fixture upon his sharp nose up.
>Accept
>Reject
If accept, name your champion(No Dontos).
>Yourself
>Lucas Longwaters
>Wesley Hayford
>Other (Name)Sorry about the delay, dog needed out.
>>45503102
>>Accept
>Lucas Longwaters
>>45503102
>Accept
Damn it, we should have check if Lucas was on a fighting condition.
>>45503102
>>Accept
>Lucas Longwaters
>>45503102
>> Accept
>> Ourself
>>45503102
>Accept
>Yourself
Fuck's sake what a cunt this guy is.
>>45503102
>>Reject
I'm not so sure about trial by combat right now. Most of our best are battered and healing after the melee.
>>45503102
> Accept
> Yourself
Lucas is pretty battered, so is pretty much everyone but us
>>45503102
>Accept
>Yourself
Not the original plan but Brynden is our only fresh face right now.
>>45503102
>Accept
>Yourself
>Saul Compton
Isn't that our barrister in like a year?
>>45503102
>Accept
>Yourself
Welp, this sucks, better beat his shit in
I don't suppose we can ask Samuel whether he's sure he wants to go through with this? If you don't die in the trial traditionally doesn't insisting on combat mean you're more harshly treated?
>>45503386
Nah, we make him take the black either way.
So we gonna get a Dontos POV for his challenge?
“I accept,” you respond exhaling after the small moment of thought you dedicated to it. You knew a proper trial would end in him being accused, near everyone did. Including Samuel. But he was not the warrior in the family, a Knight sure, but Wesley was the one with truer martial prowess. This was his only chance, and it was bleak. Behind you Lucas, Mason and Victor were all fully garbed for combat. Even Wesley had worn his padding, anticipating or hoping you could not tell. But this battle was not for them to finish, and most of them were battered. No, this was for you.
“Very well my Lord,” Saul responds scribbling away upon his pad, “Your champion my Lord?”
“Myself,” you say bluntly. Dontos turns to you, and lips, ‘What are you do’ you respond with a hand upon his shoulder as you pull yourself up, “A matter of family this is. I will not ask those that gave their bodies for the past week to fight upon my behalf. I accept your challenge Samuel.”
Saul turns to Samuel who has turned pale as a ghost, his eyes flashing between Winston and Wesley. This wasn’t part of the plan, it was assumed you would pick another to represent you but no. Not today, you would not become the fat Lord upon his throne. There was still work to be done.
---
Arron had helped you put your half-plate on in the armory next to Illion’s workshop, the grand hall having filled a bit more in the duration, entering with limited fanfare you stalk across the stone floor heavy boot steps echoing in the silence that surrounds. Samuel is pacing across from you, his helmet upon the floor, live steel in his hand. Saul is standing in the middle of the circle of people that had gathered to watch. It certainly wasn’t the grand field of the melee, but it would do. To your side Arron carries your sword and helmet, an open faced thing that you preferred when indoors and he stands in quiet wait dressed proper in the colors of his family. You roll your neck and accept the items from your squire, latching your helmet in place, and drawing your sword in a simple clean movement.
“Lords and Ladies of Steadhold. today we are gathered to bear witness to the trial of Ser Samuel Hayford, accused of crimes against the Lord of this Household, Lord Brynden Malroy. As is his right Ser Samuel chose a Trial by Combat, and now we shall allow the Seven to choose their champion. Let us pray to the Father, that justice will be administered. My Lord are you ready?”
You nod, with little else to say.
“Ser Samuel?”
He shakes his head vigorously, running a hand through his hair before picking up his shield.
“So shall it be. May the Seven be upon your side my Lords,” Saul says with a soft bow and a quick turn upon his heel. Arron backs away from you into the encircling crowd. And Samuel finally stops pacing, staring directly into your eyes, “This is your last mistake Brynden,” he states simply and then charges with a scream.
Rolling 5d6 for Fighting.
>>45503403
I'm going to do that at a later date, it'll come up after this.
>>45503365
Yes actually. Thought he would be good to have as a little appearance right now.
Rolled 4, 5, 3, 6, 5 = 23 (5d6)
>>45503712
Fuck Samuel
Rolled 3, 6, 5, 3, 6 = 23 (5d6)
>>45503712
Welp, lets seee whose side the Seven lie
Rolled 2, 4, 4, 5, 4 = 19 (5d6)
>>45503712
>>45503795
>>45503803
>>45503809
Well he's fucked
>>45503818
If he has four dice in fighting i'd be surprised.
Who knows. Maybe he does. Time for the quad sixes?
Brynden had a good run.
RIP House Malroy.
>>45503850
I'm more worried someone might've slipped him a poisoned dagger. Redward would be bucking at this opportunity.
>>45503850
>four dice
Probably 2
>>45503884
I'd be more worried about someone slipping him a poisoned dagger if we'd slept with the Brune girl.
Poison is for women. And Dornish.
>>45503891
Come on he's not that much of a chump
>>45503913
>And Dornish.
Yep those guys who managed to stay unconquered for hundreds of years, stay salty Targs
>>45503913
>implying Obella gives a fuck about propriety
>implying normal dornish women give fucks about propriety
>>45503930
It's funny. Unless i'm misremembering the Qorgyles murdered a Targaryen once upon a time.
It's at moments like these that I really respect Brynden. Seven help him from keeping this from blowing up in his face though
>>45503956
After killing the lord who ruled there in the Young Dragon's name in a bed of scorpions. Then they killed the Young Dragon, I forget how though
Remember not to kill him even on while fighting a trial by combat for breaking guess right it could be consider kin slaying.
>>45504009
Jesus that's rough times. I wonder if Obella will suggest we do that to Redward?
>>45504046
Curses for everyone!
>>45504056
Dornish don't fuck around, well they do, you know what I mean
>>45503915
I'd say his pool is probably three. He's still a knight, albeit not one with a lot of martial prowess.
>>45504009
>I forget how though
Kill while meeting the Dornish under a peace banner.
>>45504165
10/10 prank desu
>>45503956
I think you mean Tyrell ?
>it was rumored that Lord Qorgyle arranged the murder by scorpion of Lord Lyonel Tyrell
>Lord Tyrell liked Dornish women and one night he pulled the rope that would signal for a wench to come to his bed, and a hundred scorpions fell from the canopy instead. His death sparked new revolts, and the conquest was undone in a fortnight.
Subtle...
Success, two degrees.
Samuel crashes into with his full weight, without a shield you have little to protect yourself baring your own strength. His shield presses into your chest and you throw your weight against it and getting him on his back foot. Take the chance to press the attack you lash into his side, drawing your sword upwards into his armpit and ripping it clean to another yell. His form is slow as a greenhorn, how he was ever Knighted is absolutely beyond you. Launching an elbow it him you form up again with some distance, two handing your sword and daring him forward.
The crowd is near silent, the Hayfords watch on with solemn eyes, Dontos and your Knights unease. The only sound is of Samuel’s off kilter movements, his armor clanking around like a kitchen. He stops again and looks at you, “How do you do it cousin? All of this? All of this undeserved wealth. Fame. Everything.”
He’s lost his bloody mind, even in luxury of his tower, surrounded by his family, his mental break had continued to further depths. He was broken, and you had nothing that you could do to help. His eyes focus in on yours, and he charges again, slashing wildly, throwing his shield to the side in the process and two handing his sword in his fury. You parry the blows to the side, not giving much ground up, allowing Samuel to press into your guard more than a few times, to little avail for him. Locking up he gets into your face, barking like a rabid dog, “HOW! HOW DO YOU DO THIS! YOU DO NOT DESERVE IT! HOW!”
Pushing him off again you take another slash at him, his sword barely getting up in time but missing entirely, and you land a crushing blow onto his shoulder, Samuel stops yelling for a moment, and instead cries out in pain and bounds away, facing the crowd. Jonos and Worsh of your garrison step forward, hands on their swords, forcing Samuel to back off, his hand upon his shoulder, gasping in pain.
“How... Seven bloody hells. How…”
Roll 5d6 for Fighting.
Rolled 6, 1, 4, 1, 5 = 17 (5d6)
>>45504217
"By winning."
>>45504165
>"Filthy backstabbing dornish, yeah you take my meaty purple dragon!"
- every time Brynden talks dirty to Obella
Rolled 6, 4, 1, 5, 3 = 19 (5d6)
>>45504217
"Guess i'm just lucky."
Rolled 1, 1, 3, 3, 6 = 14 (5d6)
>>45504217
Rolled 6, 5, 3, 3, 4 = 21 (5d6)
>>45504217
>>45504206
We are marrying into that family
>>45504206
This story is exactly why I picked the Qorgyles. It made me laugh.
>>45504248
This is it, I am not rolling again tonight. I beg forgiveness for my shameful display
>>45504217
Goddamnit. Wish we could tell him something like "First lesson of life, nothing is fair."
Rolled 3, 3, 3, 5, 3 = 17 (5d6)
>>45504279
We can swap dice if you like.
>>45504285
>>45504246
Nah, silence is better. He's not worth the words, and wouldn't retain it even if we did say anything
>>45504279
You're only 3 points below mean roll. Don't beat yourself up too bad.
>>45504217
>>45504285
How about "Perseverance"
"I've got to tell you cousin, I'm legitimately starting to wonder if the will of the seven is at work here"
>>45504217
"It's because the Seven have weighed you, have measured you and you have been found wanting Samuel."
>>45504467
Only if he starts sobbing why, but yes this
>>45504467
Second! This is the perfect time for a knight's tale quote.
Success, one degree.
This needs to be over, it’s nothing but a bloody murmur’s show at this point. You stalk forward, bringing your sword to bear. For once combat did not thrill you, it did not allow you to drain, this felt wrong. There is a clear stream of tears rolling over Samuel’s cheeks now. His eyes red from want of sleep and pain. You point your sword at his nose, allow the full length of your arm and blade to stand between the two of you.
“Give up Samuel.”
Samuel’s eyes turn to a frothing rage, the blade pressed against his cheek drawing the slightest trickle of blood that runs down and mixes his tears. He presses his face against it harder, bringing his own sword to bear, pointing it at you. He slides down the blade allowing the cut to dig into his skin before lifting off, a thick line of blood from nose to ear being all that is left.
“No.”
Again as if he were an dothraki screamer he barrels into you, screaming at the top of his lungs, launching a flurry of unpracticed blows. You give ground, keeping on your back foot enough to maintain distance. More than a few times he draws into your guard, swinging the pommel of his sword and fists like a madman, attempting any sort of blow, something to gain purchase. A lucky strike of his elbow smashes into you face, your nose is protected but the armor leaves a cut on your lip that earns him a moment of reprisal. Your sword digging him with practiced measure, again you focus on his shoulder and he near crumples any time you land a blow there despite the armor.
“How… Howhowhowhow,” he repeats having drawn away from you again and facing the crowd. Tall Jack and Oliver await him this time, eyeing him with blades near drawn. He turns to you again, his face a red mask. Eyes crazed. And a blade in his face again.
“No… I… No. This… This wasn’t suppose to happen. YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSE TO FIGHT. HOW DID YOU KNOW!”
The crowd has begun to whisper, worry in their faces and tone. Samuel begins to pace again, rambling to himself like a madman, “Nonono, he was suppose to watch. Without the armor. That is what they said,” your sword and eyes follow him before he finally comes to a stop. Looking at you with dead cold eyes, but his body gives him away, he shakes like a leaf in autumn, his sword hand goes up again and he this time he drops the sword, drawing his other hand up, “I surrender.”
Roll 3d6 for Notice.
>>45504582
Of Steddld he was lord and governour,
And in his tyme swich a conquerour,
That gretter was ther noon under the sonne.
Ful many a riche contest hadde he wonne,
What with his wysdom and his chivalrie;
He conquered al the field at the Landyng,
That whilom was ycleped Redward,
And weddede the lady Obella.
>>45504467
I was for silence, but I'm okay with saying this at the end of the trial if we win
Rolled 2, 1, 6 = 9 (3d6)
>>45504705
ROOOOOOLLAN
Rolled 5, 3, 5 = 13 (3d6)
>>45504705
He's gonna bitch out and fall on a knife.
Rolled 4, 6, 2 = 12 (3d6)
>>45504705
Oh fuck
Rolled 6, 1, 5 = 12 (3d6)
>>45504705
Rolled 2, 1, 4 = 7 (3d6)
>>45504705
>>45504705
>Someone hired him to assassinate us.
>>45504705
Holy shit, we just escape an assassination attempt for being the sellsword instead of the lord. I don't know what to think as I was against fight ourselves.
>>45504705
I think we need a good long talk with our uncle and cousin.
Prehapes it is time we get some "Wards" from them. As a sign of trust and respect ofcourse.
>>45504788
Sometimes, it pays to be unpredictable. Also if the assassin doesn't kill us or Samuel, we are fucking executing this would be kinslayer
So what do you think is gonna happen and did we pass?
>>45504788
Hey man, being a hands on lord don't mean we're a sellsword. I completely agree with Brynden that this was a family matter that needed to be solved with family
>>45504842
5 internet points on him committing suicide to look like a victim and sour relations between his house and ours.
>>45504842
Well, we rolled well above average on all three rolls so who knows
>>45504760
No someone else was going to kill us while we and everyone else were watching the fight. Pretty good plan actually.
Now here is my little idea to uncover the rest of the conspirators, we order Dontos to close the gates and make a big fucking show out of it, move our men all over the place as if we knew all along who and what was going to happen. All this to scare the could-be assassins to panic, forgo subtlety and try to escape by force in the open where we can get them.
>>45504952
Good idea actually
>>45504952
But do you really think dad would let that happen? He'd find a way to fuck us over.
>>45504712
Oh targfag, you are a fag but I love you
>>45504977
>>45504952
Also pretend to have know all along that we knew, and call Samuel to tell the crowd what he and his conspirators were planing. He is broken now this is our best chance to do it in a very public way with lots of witnesses.
>>45505007
Hey now, enough of that. Dad's been tough but fair and he hasn't fucked us over for no reason. At most he was being a little dickish by tweaking our nose and making it seem like we failed, but that's it.
>>45505007
I am thinking on my feet to size every advantage, by complement the plan with this >>45505039 and we have a greater chance to reveal the other conspirators.
If this turns out to be a plot by who I think it is we just stumblefucked our way into a fantastic position.
>>45505078
And who do you think it is? Redcunt?
>>45505096
I actually think it may be his father and brother. We need a long talk with them.
>>45505096
Wouldn't be surprised if there's a 3rd player in the game
>>45505138
Could be almost anybody what with all the cunts here for our melee.
My money is on one of Cersei's Westerlander dogs thinking on his feet and trying to cook up a way to kill us.
But I guess it could be Redward or that Myrish magister either.
Success, one degree.
He wasn’t looking at you, he was looking through you, in his mad ramblings and pacing he had placed you right before Dontos, Arron and Victus. Samuel’s eyes begin to shift, his hands still raised in surrender leaving you with nothing to do keep him at sword point.
“Janos, Worsh. Bind him,” you say with unease, searching his body for something, anything, his armor was plain, no adornments. The only thing unusual was a small sack upon his belt, it was pressed firm against the belt almost invisible in the insanity of his movements. His eyes catch yours again, and then he tilts his head to where you are looking.
“You weren’t suppose to know cousin.”
In a moment Samuel drops to the floor, scrambling for his sword, the crowd goes into an uproar, as your garrison attempts to seize him but in the commotion he escapes their grasps. From his boot he draws a thin dagger that he slices into the little sack with, a thick black liquid running over it. Thinking he is going after you your sword rounds for attack but instead he charges right throw you running straight for your family. Screaming. Dagger swinging wildly. Oliver and Tall Jack both step forward to stop him but are knocked aside, Samuel instead taking a sword to the hand rather than be stopped. You swing around and watch in slow motion as he stumbles forward into the crowd, the dagger bore near his screaming mouth.
They run, scatter, but one. Dontos grabs his shoulder but he is paralyzed, the screaming of Samuel and please of Dontos mixing with your own yell of pure rage, “VICTUS MOVE!”
