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. You are Brynden Malroy, second son to Lord Vamos Malroy and Lady Esemella Hayford and the last living heir to Steadhold and House Malroy. The year is 285AC, two years after the Rebellion and a year after your return to Westeros.
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. 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.
Google Documents Mastersheet:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1WiZG5xtDqbQKI31IIbqNb4zTmooivb0Ns_J6EatgWgY/edit?usp=sharing
Last Updated:
>6/29 - House Malroy History, Holdings, & Household
>7/3 - Dispositions of Houses & Persons of the Realm
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/RevengeGoldQM
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https://m.ask.fm/RevengeGoldQM
SIFRPG Resources:
https://www.mediafire.com/folder/6sar1o14399xv/SIFRP
Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=House%20Malroy
And now without further ado.
Eyes of wildfire. Your mother once called them that, shining with bright unyielding flame through light of day, murmuring in soft whispers of emerald flame even in the dark of moonless night. Passion was their spark, fanned by emotion into a roaring inferno that set your mind to unending drive and purpose. Of the past decade it felt the only time they were aflame was when your heart also burnt with anger. With hate. With desire for revenge. As emerald flame washes over the broken body of Lord Quentyn Qorgyle, you again feel that desire, that purpose, the need once more, your body pacing, arms never comfortable by your side or crossed in restless inaction. He was an ally, a friend in some regards, a rival in others. Another target upon your line that stood in such defiance against those that had wronged your family. Beside his bed sat your Maester, Benjin, who was quick at work setting his arm. Three broken bones in the left arm, he had landed on that side, his shield breaking the fall and potentially saving his life. His head was bloody and bruised where it had hit after, chest swollen from broken ribs, similarly bruised and heaving heavily even after Benjin had treated him with milk of the poppy, and his leg that had been pinned under the thrashing horse looked mangled, likely just as broken as his arm. He would walk again, he would hold a weapon again Benjin said, though without the usual confidence in his voice, a rare thing, a poor thing to your ears.
Ser Quellon Qorgyle stands over his bed, keeping his head in place as Maester Armenda, Prince Oberyn Martell’s maester, stitched his flesh together again. You can see the turmoil in his own eyes, less of a burning rage like your own but one of calculated anger. Others among the pavilion whispered it was a slight that Ser Cardyn Lantell had been awarded the victory despite such a dishonorable act, that eyes looked the other way. The chivalry and honor amongst Knights the Reach was known for, lost upon the moment.
The Dornishmen and women about you wore emotions upon their sleeves, obviously slighted, further pained. Though none so much as Lady Obara Santagar, and the two boys, Gulien and Arron, your passing pauses long enough to giving them passing looks in a different section of the tent, Obara seated with her face in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks, Gulien hugged at his mother’s side tears of his own upon his cheeks, and Arron standing a bit off, eyes upon the floor his face a mask though a poor one still so obviously shocked and scared. Lady Ellaria Sand sits next to them, rubbing Obara’s back as she speaks with Prince Oberyn Martell, his arms are crossed upon his chest, one hand rubbing his face before looking back at you and making eye contact for a moment, pausing long enough to give you the symbol to stay and turning back to Quentyn’s family and begging leave, closing the curtain to the other side of the tent as he leaves. Long strides brings him to you, his fists clenched at his side, face worn in the same anger as your own.
“Come, walk with me,” he says simply as he passes by, pressing his hand upon your shoulder to hardly give you an option otherwise. He leads you outside behind the Qorgyle pavilion and paces a moment before stopping and gathering himself with his back turned and speaking, “I do not blame you for this but you will understand if my anger gets the better of me, yes?”
You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck where the hair had begun to grow again, “Yes Prince Oberyn.”
“What was done here was no mere accident, you saw it as well as I. Purpose was behind that lance, if he had not needed to stare Quentyn down I have little doubt he would instead stared at you,” Oberyn’s finger points at you as he turns, before slowly withdrawing and again rubbing his face, “Your enemies are not subtle Lord Malroy.”
“After that I could hardly call them otherwise,” you state simply, your fingers idly play with the rings upon your pinky finger, too restless to do simply sit, “Your brother… Obella knew nothing of what your spoke, I find myself knowing and understanding even less.”
“For good reason Lord Malroy. She did not need to know the perils you would face here in Highgarden. Do you truly think she would have let you go if she knew there was not one man here with intent to kill you, but rather seven?”
“But who amongst those seven? Lord Linden Langward for certain, his bannerman? Ser Cardyn…”
“Doran knew not either, merely that seven was the intention, men hide in shadows, away from prying eyes until they are given opportunity when they see valor, honor, history in fighting alongside the cause they may not even believe in…” Oberyn pauses and regards you fully, “Lord Malroy, do you recall your histories?”
“Of war, of battle. I was not the scholar amongst my brothers,” you respond uncertain, voice caught in your throat by the sudden change in topic.
Oberyn taps his chin, “It is a noble pursuit Lord Malroy, perhaps you may wish to someday. A bookish Lord is not a poor thing, the chain of a maester does not wear so tightly nor heavily when it is but a few links. I recall two such times such a number bore significance-”
“Lord Brynden Malroy? I am sorry to interrupt-” your head turns, seeing the small voice of Olymer Tyrell’s squire coming from behind, he wrings his green cap in his hands before looking past you and growing wide eyed in terror, “O-oh Seven above, I-I-I apologize Prince Oberyn Martell I had not known you were speaking. Please forgive me, I… Um merely was sent to, to, to…”
Oberyn rolls his eyes, flicking his wrist for the boy to quiet himself, you can see a dark look in his eyes when regarding the green and gold livery the squire wore, a half second of darker intention before his voice returns to you, “I see you are needed elsewhere Lord Malroy. Is not not right squire?”
The boy nods his head furiously squeaking out, “Ser Olymer Tyrell requests your presence my Lord. You are to meet Ser Arlen Hunt and Lord Randyll Tarly soon for the hunt.”
“Thank you squire, go and wait up front, prepare my horse,” you say simply and he dashes off allowing you to return to Oberyn.
“You appeal to the man’s loves, to show him kindred spirit before gaining his support. A wise idea Lord Malroy. One I certainly hope to see pay off in the days to come,” Oberyn says, flicking his thumbnail in thought, “I will send word regarding Quentyn’s status as is necessary Lord Malroy. See to it that this was not in vain.”
You nod, “Another reason among the many Prince Oberyn.”
---
“Thank the bloody Seven you’re here, I thought we were going to be late, and then Lord Tarly would cross, the man does not like to wait or forgives tardiness easily. Are you ready Lord Malroy, your bow, your horse… Your ahhhh…”
“Olymer calm yourself, I’m prepared, I’m here. We are fine,” you say dismounting Goldsong and joining him before the gates that leave towards the forests beyond Highgarden. Placing a hand upon his shoulder you can feel the sweat even through his clothing, the nervousness obvious before you had even begun the hunt.
“There is… There is just so much riding upon a simple hunt my Lord. What if… What if we fail? What if we only succeed in gaining Lord Tarly’s ire? We’ve only a week left, that is not enough time to orchestrate such a meeting again.”
“Then we don’t fail Olymer,” you state simply, allowing a smile that Lucas Longwaters would be proud of, “Make it through the evening and you can drink my stores dry for all I care.”
Olymer swallows hard and nods, turning his head as he notices the small hunting party lead by Lord Randyll Tarly and Ser Arlen Hunt. Dogs bark and pull at their leads behind them, bloodhounds by the looks of them, reminding you of your sore lack of such a point Lord Tarly is quick to point out.
“Evening Lord Malroy, Ser Olymer. Undresed and under prepared then?”
Olymer looks ready to fall on his face before stammering out a response, “Good evening Lord Tarly. I would beg forgiveness, but my Master of Hunt is a mite late with our own provisions and such.”
Lord Tarly tsks and presses forward, his party of ten odd men following after, Arlen Hunt breaks off after and stops beside you, talking down from atop his horse, “Lord Qorgyle?”
“Alive, though barely, he is being taken care of,” you respond.
Arlen sighs with relief, “Seven be blessed then. I will warn Lord Malroy, try not to take offense to Lord Tarly’s opinions of the dornish. We are Marcher Lords afterall and uncouth is not far from the word I would use since the incident, respectfully of course.”
The side of your mouth twitches though you nod regardless, “Noted Ser Arlen. Olymer, must we wait any longer?”
“No, my Lord,” Olymer is waving down a man from behind you as he speaks who waves back and rides over quickly, followed by his own party and slightly less impressive dogs.
He rides up and dismounts, bowing curtly towards both you and Lord Tarly, Olymer introduces him, “Apologies for his tardiness Lord Tarly, Malroy. May I introduce the Master of the Hunt in Highgarden, Ser Clayton Bushy.”
Both you and Lord Tarly regard him with simple nods that he returns with an flinching face, “The day grows older yet my Lords, shall we?”
And with that you are off, three score men, twice as many dogs, two Lords and several Knights upon a simple hunt, with ramifications that bore wider than the Kingdom itself. You outpace Lord Tarly upon Goldsong, hardly a difficult thing to do considering the quality of horse, though his dogs are impressive, fast and cunning as they dart in and out of the forest before your party. Your target was a red hart, a stag with a rack of at least twelve. The sun had begun to wane in the evening sky as you ride further into the forest, an hour or so of hard riding later and you have slowed, waiting for the dogs to return to their masters for the sounds of rustling wildlife or the calls of men. Lord Randyll Tarly rides alongside you, garbed in dark heavy leathers a greatsword lashed across his back, Heartsbane if your memory served you well. Another of his dogs bounds out of the forest, pausing before you both a moment sniffing the air before jolting after another lead. You both ride in silence, Ser Arlen and Olymer riding ahead leaving you alone for the moment, better to speak to the trial when Lord Tarly was in a better mood you think, but a little idle chatter would hardly be a poor thing between Lords.
>Roll 3d6 for Survival (Hunt) please.You got a +1D from Olymer's dogs.Otherwise it was unlikely you would have succeeded.
What to walk to Lord Randyll Tarly about?
>His bloodhounds, impressive bloodline on par with your House’s horses, surely he would enjoy the boost
>The greatsword upon his back, the Valyrian Steel Heartsbane, men of stature hardly pass up the chance to speak of such
Rolled 1, 5, 3 = 9 (3d6)
>>48209561
>Talk about his hounds.
Rolled 2, 4, 2 = 8 (3d6)
>>48209561
>The greatsword upon his back, the Valyrian Steel Heartsbane, men of stature hardly pass up the chance to speak of such
Rolled 1, 2, 4 = 7 (3d6)
>>48209561
>His bloodhounds, impressive bloodline on par with your House’s horses, surely he would enjoy the boost
Bet everyone always ask about the sword. Must be tiresome
>>48209599
>>48209591
>>48209579
Seven above Brynden...
Rolled 1, 5, 1 = 7 (3d6)
>>48209561
>>His bloodhounds, impressive bloodline on par with your House’s horses, surely he would enjoy the boost
Rolled 6, 6, 2 = 14 (3d6)
>>48209622
eh, we can't be good at everything.
>>48209638
Your dice say otherwise.
Rolled 6, 6, 5, 6, 4, 2 = 29 (6d6)
>>48209579
>>48209591
>>48209599
Brynden Malroy professional being shite at hunting. Will he ever learn? Probably not.
Conversely, rolling a 5D+1B for Lord Randyll Tarly's Survival (Hunt) roll.
>>48209561
>The greatsword upon his back, the Valyrian Steel Heartsbane, men of stature hardly pass up the chance to speak of such
Valyriansteel is the pride of any house
One day we shall have one of our own but for now act envious let him gloat a little suger him up
>>48209561
>>The greatsword upon his back, the Valyrian Steel Heartsbane, men of stature hardly pass up the chance to speak of such
>>48209599
>>48209561
Changing my vote to
>The greatsword upon his back, the Valyrian Steel Heartsbane, men of stature hardly pass up the chance to speak of such
Considering how shit Brynden is at hunting we should move the talk over to battles/war rather than hunts
>>48209808
>>48209917
>>48209926
Welp, alright, let me somewhat start over then.
Brynden Malroy Survival (Hunt) roll:
>First Goal: Success, one degree.
>Second Goal: Success, one degree.
>Third Goal: Failed.
Randyll Tarly Survival (Hunt) roll:
>First Goal: Success, four degrees.
>Second Goal Success: four degrees.
>Third Goal: Success, four degrees.Holy shit I’m dying.
“The blade upon your back, it is of Valyria is not?” you ask, having grown dreadfully bored of the silence.
“I would expect a Valyrian Lord to recognize their own steel, Lord Malroy,” Lord Tarly responds puffing his chest out slightly, a point of pride for any Lord worth his weight to be certain, “Hardly a difficult thing to recognize given the sword’s rich history.”
“Hardly a Lord among Westeros that is unaware of her name Lord Tarly, Heartsbane, a rather indicative and blunt thing is it not?”
“It is an honest thing Lord Malroy. As all swords are, honest in purpose and use, they only seek your hand in need of their design. But yes, my Heartsbane is a particular sort, do you know of the Vulture Hunt, Lord Malroy?”
“Briefly my Lord, I would admit to knowing less of the Marcher Lord conflicts than my own House’s.”
‘Savage’ Sam Tarly,” he pauses to mutter something under his breath, you catch, ‘that he disgraces’, before he continues, “...was the head of House Tarly when he rode into the Red Mountains, sussing out the dornish from their hiding holes, cowards they are, and my ancestor put them to the blade. Every last one of those slithering snakes before he cut the Vulture King’s head from its place. It is side Heartsbane ran red with the blood of her enemies, something I hardly doubt. And now she resides upon my back, in battle, in court.”
“While hunting?”
“An outlaw who is too bold for his own good is never outside of the realm of possibility Lord Malroy.”
“Point well taken Lord Tarly,” you respond with a nod allowing your hand to jostle the pommel of your bastard sword out of reflex.
Randyll Tarly’s eyes follow your movement before his face screws up into a frown, “I was surprised to learn that House Malroy never possessed such a sword of your homeland, why is that may I ask?”
You laugh instinctively, causing Lord Tarly to sit back a moment as you compose yourself with a cough, “Consider Lord Tarly. The Targaryens, had their dragons, Blackfyre and Dark Sister. The Velaryons, the most dangerous fleet upon the eastern shore. The Celtigars, coin and influence to spare. The Qoherys, Harrenhal. My family? A castle upon a river where we use to keep our horses. All things considered, comparably we are the pauper Valyrians. My father once told me Ser Aeson Malroy’s father, Eammon Malroy sold our family’s sword to maintain his lifestyle in Lys post Doom. How he came to possess it being a third son, I could hardly say, though I very much doubt he did.”
Randyll Tarly nods shortly, “A shame then Lord Malroy.”
“I have learned to live with the lack of such an inheritance Lord Tarly.”
“No, a shame that your ancestors cared so little for their history. This Eammon Malroy, a foolish and selfish man if I had ever heard it, it is clear to see why your family credits Ser Aeson with maintaining your lineage. I could never allow my Heartsbane to fall into the hands of the undeserving, not even mine own.”
An underhanded cut that was, even if not entirely intentional, “Yes Lord Tarly, for good reason.”
He responds with a gruff noise before turning his head and bringing his bow to bare, “It would appear we have our scent Lord Malroy.”
The dogs in the distance are going mad and the shouts of men are obvious in that they had found something, the forest is suddenly alight with the noise of wildlife, birds and small game fleeing and calling from all the ruckus. You nip into Goldsong’s side, and he begins to move forward on his own, allowing your legs to hug him with your own bow bore and ready.
Lord Tarly begins to fall behind not being as practiced with the stance as you were and your ears and eyes catch upon a movement to your left. Two doe burst from the woods with the howls and barks of dogs after them, sizable deer, at the very least worth your time. Hands are quick to draw your arrow, a sharp breath and your arrow is soon streaking across the field and sinking into the neck of the doe. Another arrow comes flying past you and strikes the other, a slight turn of your head telling you it had been Lord Tarly’s own from a few paces behind. Your door crashes into a tree and the dogs are quickly upon it, a man following up and giving you the go ahead to continue as he finishes it off, another man of Lord Tarly’s doing the same.
The two of you press on, following after Ser Arlen and Olymer upon the old trail and listening for further commotion, not a few moments later and Arlen is pressing off to the side and flagging down Lord Tarly to follow while Olymer paces in circles upon his horse waiting for you. Randyll Tarly drives past you, hardly giving a passing look as he follows after his bannerman and allows you a short moment of confusion alongside Olymer.
“What is it Olymer?”
“Ser Bushy’s hounds are lost my Lord. We haven’t gotten the scent or the tracks Lord Tarly’s do,” he says, you can see his heads twisting up in the reins as he speaks to you, again nervousness and want for drink turning up.
You frown deeply and pace around in your own circle attempting to gain your bearings in hope of finding something on your own or at least the moment lasting long enough for Ser Bushy’s hounds to catch up with Lord Tarly’s.
>Roll 3d6 for Survival (Hunt) please.A failed roll this time means you’re out of the hunt.
Rolled 6, 3, 5 = 14 (3d6)
>>48210544
rolla
Rolled 2, 1, 2 = 5 (3d6)
>>48210544
Rolled 4, 5, 4 = 13 (3d6)
>>48210544
Rolling.
>>48210567
>>48210630
>>48210637
Much better.
I will fan-name our family valyrian sword Goldmane after the goldlike pattern on the the blade!
Also Tarly is right about Eammon.
>>48210729
I dunno about the sword name. Not bad, but not that great, I think.
He is totally right about Eammon, though. Yet very wrong, I think, about his son.
>>48210729
I think Brynden will chuckle quite a lot when he hears that Randyl son took the black.
>I may be a swordless lord but at least my son isn't a fuck up
>>48210782
>All of Brynden's sons ends up being total failures or ends up becoming septons/maesters
>Success, one degree.
Eyes and ears follow the sounds and commotion of Lord Tarly’s dogs and men. A thicket nearby tells you the deer had been resting before you had come upon them, the wilderness floor cleared out a bit from where they had laid, the leaves and bramble around it kicked up as they had all fled. At least five of them were about, the big buck had been the alpha of the small group, no fawns, only the doe and the hart. Pressing into Goldsong’s side you go to examin the area, pushing out the noise for a moment while you inspected the trees around their campsite. Eyes catch upon a fresh scrape, on one of them, the green flesh exposed to the world, bramble beneath had caught red hairs, all opposite of the direction Lord Tarly and Ser Arlen had gone. No doubt their men were working on cutting off his flight and pushing him back towards the rest of the hunting party but you had enough of a head start and the better horse to boot to catch up and take the prize yourself.
“Olymer, round up the hounds and take them this way. Lord Tarly hunts the other doe, while we the prize.”
Olymer smiles at your sudden confidence, bolstering his own failings, and calls for Ser Bushy and a collection of men and dogs that fly past you once they catch the scent and trail, barking and howling away like madmen. Goldsong complains against your push but nonetheless breaks into a canter through the woods, old boy knew how to keep his step in the thick woods, he’d hardly be a proper horse if he didn’t, roots and branches didn’t bother him so much as the evening exercise did. You had promised him retirement soon afterall.
“Just a few more months old man, then we’ll break in one of your kids, promise,” you whisper to him while leaning down to avoid a branch that swats Olymer in the face behind you.
“Brynden are you certain we are going the right way!?” Olymer yells up to you.
“Hardly! I’m not a hunter! I can shoot things real good when they get in range though!”
“What’s in range mean!?”
“Haven’t figured that out yet! All the fields are too short!” you finish with a laugh before emerging into an open field, wild grass high enough to be at your chest if you were to dismount. Goldsong has little issue plowing into it, quickly grabbing a snack as you slow down to a trot and look about. The slight wind gives the field a wavy appearance like the Narrow Sea, cuts from the dogs that had entered before you looking like sharks prowling about. From your vantage point you can see the entire stretch, though eyes are trained upon the forest openings, ears listening in for the calls and barks of dogs and men in the forest around. Your thumb brushes the fletching of the black shafted arrow that waits upon your bowstring.
Eyes catch upon the opening to the left but it only appears to be the other hunting party, Ser Arlen being the first to appear with Lord Tarly shortly behind. Not shortly after though your eyes catch upon a glint to your right, that of a creature's eye in the waning sunlight. You draw immediately, stretching out your bow to full length and taking in the beauty of the stag that had just emerged from the forest, bounding into the field with dogs, Olymer’s dogs, hot on its heels. Eyes cast over towards Lord Tarly, his party going into a frenzy when the hart appears, they were facing it head on, while you had the full range of his side, an easier shot to be certain. You line up your bow, sharp breath, easy shot, moving target at one hundred and fifty paces give or take, you’ve had worse.
>Roll 8d6 for Marksmanship please.
Rolled 2, 3, 2, 3, 6, 5, 3, 2 = 26 (8d6)
>>48211025
Rolled 1, 2, 1, 3, 6, 2, 5, 5, 1, 1, 4, 3, 2, 1, 1, 4, 2, 1 = 45 (18d6)
>>48211025
pew pew pew
>>48211048
Think you did that wrong.
>>48211048
well at least there wont be anymore ones in this thread now.
Rolled 1, 6, 2, 5, 5, 6, 5, 3 = 33 (8d6)
>>48211025
Rolled 1, 4, 3, 6, 5, 4, 2, 5 = 30 (8d6)
>>48211025
Rolling
>>48211091
>>48211085
>>48211043
Much better Brynden. Brynden may have a hard time finding his mark but when he does it is as good as dead.
Rolled 5, 5, 1, 5, 3 = 19 (5d6)
>>48211043
>>48211085
>>48211091
20,27,24
Damn son dat Hunting Bow.
Roll on this is 4D+1B for Randyll Tarly.
>>48211182
He aint got nothing on us!
Not so tough when he cant shoot his sword.
>>48211025
>“What’s in range mean!?”
>“Haven’t figured that out yet! All the fields are too short!”
>>48211085
>Rolled 1, 6, 2, 5, 5, 6, 5, 3 = 33 (8d6)
Brynden face when
>>48211201
He probably tried that once.
If the thing we are killing got Antlers we need to take them back to Steadhold to show off to the wife.
Then wait for Lorelei to be old enough to listen to stories so we can bore her to death with the hunting story for years.
>>48211478
Nah.
We'll drive that '20 Good Men' story of ours into the fucking ground to the point where the kids can hear us say one word from the story and they can just recite the rest of the story from that point.
Reminder that it would cost a fortune to obtain and make The Perfect Arrow since it needs feathers of a three eyed raven, wood from a Weirwood Tree, Valyrian steel/Dayne Starmetal.
>>48211584
Every time they ever complain about anything and how hard it is just bring up that whole story
>>48211610
It also needs to be crafted on a moonless night on the shores of a frozen lake.
>>48211478
IF everything goes according to plan we should put it on the wall with a plate under it saying "Langward"
>>48211656
Yes.
Even as a grumpy, decrepit old man Brynden still recalls that story with the utmost clarity and accuracy.
>>48210729
>I will fan-name our family valyrian sword Goldmane after the goldlike pattern on the the blade!
Not Gold/song/? I did wonder if he was named after anything, and it's curious that Brynden can so easily conjure this snippet of history when he's consistently said not to be a scholar.
>>48211705
>Not Gold/song/?
Steelsong or Bloodsong.
>>48211738
I've got a great name for Brynden's heirloom bow.
>Woe
>>48211821
Ha.
I like it.
His quiver shall be called Sorrow.
>>48211821
>Naming your own weapon
Only people who should be naming weapons is the one who crafted it or the ones it is being used on.
>>48211584
I like to imagine every kid listening starry eyed to the story exactly until the age of six when they loose their innocence and question how much of the stories their father tells are just bullshit to feed his ego
>>48211850
Except they all true.
>>48211864
Sometimes vastly exaggerated but true.
>>48211864
of course, I like to imagine the sons confirming everything but with a hint of a smile as to imply they are just indulging their lord
Just to fuck with Bryden, you know
>>48211911
>Dad, how did you ever meet my mother?
>Well I won a archery tourney and then she was the entertainment for the victory feast, and then the next day I found her camp and we fucked, then later I met her again when I went to Dorne and we fucked a bunch more, and then we got betrothed.
>>48211955
>Having to tell Lorelei she was conceived in some backalley cheap wineshink while her mother wore a mask seducing her father. Her father then almost got killed right after.
>>48211996
hey, it's the Dornish way
>>48211955
>>48211996
It's quite romantic really.
She might dig the story if it was framed properly.
>>48211996
>her father then almost got killed right after.
Pfff, we got jump by 3 men with knifes and we gutted the scum out of lot of them.
>>48212043
I am sure Obella will have her own version to tell Lorelei.
Brynden Malroy Marksmanship, DC 21
>Success, two degrees.
Randyll Tarly Marksmanship, DC 15
>Success, one degree.
The hart backpedals and turns when he notices the other party, attempting to split the difference between your own and Randyll Tarly’s. You readjust slightly, sitting to full length in Goldsong’s saddle, knees gripping into the old boy as he trots along to keep your lead on him equal. Lord Tarly is lining up his own shot, hardly allowing the moment to pass and you can tell he is ready to fire as he leads from a stationary position upon the ground. Your breath holds and your mind focuses, ready… Aim. And… Fire.
The arrow streaks across the field, dipping low towards the very top of the grass in its descent enough to cause ripples as it passes. The moment slows as you fire, watching Lord Tarly’s own bow crack one off not moments later. Though too late, just by a hair, the hart is struck firmly in the shoulder blade closest to you the arrow digger deep and burying itself in the far one. The body of the hart flexes and then goes limp before crashing to the ground in a lump. Lord Tarly’s arrow flies high over it, having aimed for the head and eyes during the lead. You smile to yourself and Olymer comes over clapping his hands watching his dogs surround the incapacitated deer barking and growling.
“That was a hell of a shot my Lord, never seen a deer go down quite like that.”
“My brother hunted like that, called it a double shoulder shot, basically it slams through the two shoulder blades and damages the spine enough to paralyze them. I saw him do it once back home. Could never quite get it down myself, lucky shot,” you respond while trotting over to the body. Truly it was a magnificent beast and you can read upon Lord Tarly’s face the disappointment that the deer he had been tracking for the past few days had gone to another less talented hunter.
“Fourteen points milord! None damaged in the fall neither. A damned good shot!” says one of the huntsmen as he examines the deer and quickly finishes it off in such a way not to damage or the pelt too much.
“Three doe to one doe and a true prize Lord Malroy,” Lord Tarly says across the way while remounting, “To the victor the spoils, as agreed. An impressive showing.”
“Thank you Lord Tarly, you honor me. Though no small amount of respect is due to you likewise, I hardly the capacity to track not two but three fleeing animals at once, had it been more than one in this field no doubt I would have turned up with nothing,” you respond with the most graceful smile you can muster, swallowing down the confident bravado that would be spent upon someone such as Lucas or Mason.
The huntsmen regather their dogs and pack up the five deer upon a wagon they had brought. Upon inspection you notice your doe had been smaller as well, though it hardly mattered, she wasn’t your main catch of the day. The sun had begun to set, giving you cause to realize that you had been out for the better part of three hours now, and likely wouldn’t return to Highgarden for another hour and half as the sun had s completely. Men ignite torches and spread out to provide the proper guard and perimeter befitting two Lords and Knights and you begin the trek back.
For the first half you hardly speak with Lord Tarly, noting he was still simmering a mite, he wasn’t as competitive as you were you think, rather prideful and disliking losing something that he took such pride and care of improving his prowess with. It is not until later when Ser Arlen Hunt manages to get him upon the topic of Ser Artys Hunt, his former squire that he begins to speak again at length. Among the discussion is Armen, Ser Arlen’s youngest son and more than likely your future second squire and talk turns to Steadhold and home.
>>48211996
>Brynden becomes a really chill, laid back dad.
>Cross between Norman Rockwell painting and Mister Rogers
>Lorelei grows up thinking that he's a soft dude, funny and caring and not a aggressive bone in his body.
>hears stories from Uncle Dontos and Victus (He's a great big brother!) about how Brynden Won this tournament, killed dozens of men, leads daring raids.
>Read mom's book about him, didn't think it was true.
>Tries to go on her first date.
>First date meets him, incredibly respectful and afraid of him.
>Lol whatever, dad's just being a bit goofy.
>War gets called against Iron Islanders
>Dad goes in armory, loses sweaters and corn cob pipe.
>Fully decked out in war gear.
>Watches firsthand how he takes an entire enemy ship, sets it on fire, and crashes it into the enemy fleet while sniping as many captains of other ships as possible.
>Drags down hundreds Into the drowned gods halls.
>Later that night tucks her into bed and kisses her forehead.
>Now she knows why there were never any monsters under her bed.
“The walls are being repaired as we speak, labor from the bandits that had plagued my family’s rightful land being the primary driving force behind it. An engineer should have arrived by the time I return, and my castellan has been given instructions to redirect him to the bridge and tower across the Rush. We are rebuilding, albeit slowly, Lord Tarly.”
“Your uncle had once lamented to me the fact your bridge had fallen into disrepair, good to see that you are taking up that cause, a family should take pride in their holdings, in their lands. Putting their people to good honest work. Those laborers of your, I would have put to the sword and dumped their bodies in a hole months ago,” Randyll Tarly responds.
“Many of their comrades have already faced such a fate, I assure you. These men will however be offered the chance to join the Night’s Watch, as I am sure you are aware my step-Uncle, is the current Lord Commander, and my dear wife insisted.”
“A gift I would hardly consider worth giving. Dying order, rapists and pickpockets defending a wall of ice against legends and folktales, pfft,” he throws a hand up in disgust, “The Night’s Watch of old was a order to be respected. The real wars are down south now, where honor and justice still matter,” he pauses before turning his head to you, “Lord Malroy I know you do not speak plainly with me. I was not born a fortnight ago, your type is hardly the sort to ever do something without purpose behind it. Whether that purpose is coin or favor, I’ve yet to figure out, but you will speak plainly with me or soon, not at all. Your Uncle and I's past encounters have afforded you this much of a chance Lord Malroy, I would suggest you use it well.”
Your eyes keep pressed forward into the darkness, considering his words, the sellsword playing at Lord always had an agenda. You could be the most perfect Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, yet the stigma remained, likely not helped by a dornish court and wife. At the very least it made the topic a simple one to breach, “I have not Lord Tarly, and for that I apologize. We both know the song and dance we must play, the political maneuvering, the posturing. Paid compliments, both physical and as those that are merely wind. But if you wish I speak plainly, I will tell you the truth. I am in need of favor, though not one without a proper cause…”
Lord Tarly’s eyes hardly leave your face as you go into the length of your situation. Lord Linden Langward had placed a saboteur in your Household, attempting to murder one of your dearest friends and spying upon you. Once caught you learned of her and his connections to the bandits in the Princewood, not so simple were their patrons, while Linden had not placed his own coin upon them, they were amongst those that could be considered your enemy’s men, going as far to frame another hapless powerless Lord to cover their tracks. And when those among his family disagreed with his actions they banished him, disinherited him as if he were nothing, for only speaking truth and reason. And now he is fled the Crownlands to seek asylum, assumingly knowing he has been caught and fleeing the true justice that he deserves for such acts of war. Beyond that, the armies that now stood unbannered and with siege engines upon your House’s border while you are aware, insurances of a man that was marked for death, threatening women and newborn babes rather than the Lord and his Knights like the cowards they truly were. You sought less retribution as you did justice for these criminal acts, that a trial both the eyes of men and gods would bare witness to was the only way to end this without further bloodshed.
“And the favor Lord Malroy?” Randyll Tarly asks plainly once you are done.
“That you would sponsor me and my case before the Lord Paramount, Lord Tarly. I have a just and true case, you may speak with the witnesses and criminals yourself if you do not believe such. But it is a case of the Crownlands, not the Reach. I am in need of man that sees that justice must be done, regardless of location, and so that I may finally end this man’s foolhardy attempts to overreach his bounds.”
Lord Tarly chews on the thought a moment, eyes pressed forward as he rides and you see the campfires and lights of the castle in the distance. He is silent for a long moment his face unchanged from the stern scowl and you only hope for a response.
>Roll 5d6 for Persuasion (Convince) please.
>>48211705
It's not so much history as it is an old story his father use to tell him when he was a kid. Old Malroy family story that is likely untrue, but something they tell themselves to feel more valyrian.
Ask him when the Great Spring Plague occurred or the longest winter or how many crops you should stockpile for a year long winter to make sure you don't die and he'll shrug and say he has people for that.
>>48212153
love this
Rolled 1, 1, 4, 2, 5 = 13 (5d6)
>>48212214
Rolled 5, 3, 5, 4, 5 = 22 (5d6)
>>48212214
>>48212214
>Silver tongue GO!
Rolled 6, 6, 4, 1, 3 = 20 (5d6)
>>48212214
Rolled 3, 5, 3, 2, 2 = 15 (5d6)
>>48212266
lets try that again
>>48212153
>Now she knows why there were never any monsters under her bed.
Best part.
>>48212224
>>48212244
>>48212274
12,19,19
Skewing nice and high on those rolls today, good thing too because that was a tough roll.
>>48212153
Lorelei better not be going on any dates at the age of four. Otherwise I chuckled.
I just realized Victus already has an Hot Dornish Sister and two hot redhead twin cousins
He'll be a busy knight fending off suitors
>>48212382
More like he's going to warn the suitors about the girls. They will eat men alive. Especially Loreli.
Dad die? Or just writing up an 8 part post?
>>48212843
naw Sleepy, just writing a whole new book. give it time.
Brynden Malroy Persuasion (Convince) DC 18
>Success, one degree.
“I will come by your pavilion tomorrow Lord Malroy, you need not be there. I will speak with your prisoners myself,” he pauses, face still unyielding, “If I find they speak true I will present your case to Mace Tyrell myself and he will decide if it shall come before him.”
Your face brightens, though before you can speak again you are interrupted.
“This is not guarantee Lord Malroy. You understand this yes? I am not a man that is bought by simple words, through your actions and that of your family I have given you due time and will grant this favor, in so far as I am able. Whether Mace sees it is not for me to say, if he is given proper cause and by that I mean his ego is swelled by those sworn to him carrying out his duties, then he is more likely to see reason to allow the case.”
“It is all I ask Lord Tarly, I cannot express my gratitude enough, my family owes you a debt.”
“One I will not be soon to forget Lord Malroy,” Randyll Tarly says gruffly, “A debt owed is more of the same amongst the politics of the Reach and the Crownlands both. And you are correct, we both do know how this game is played. All of that being said Lord Malroy, if I am being honest, I do believe your case is just.”
The rest of the journey is carried out in silence barring Randyll Tarly occasionally asking for specifics regarding Linden and your encounters with his bought men and women. Names, locations and such, nothing of significant note. By the time you have reached the gates from before the huntsmen have broken off to skin the deer of their pelts, cure the meat, and in your case preserve and mount the neck up of the hart.
Your evening with Lord Tarly is ended with a firm handshake and promises to be ready for his summons at a moment’s notice. For a man not guaranteeing success he certainly was sure he would be needing to speak with you again soon, it was a good feeling, one that filled with confidence, or as much as you would allow for the moment. Ser Arlen Hunt hangs back a moment later, assuring you things had gone well and he would attend the meeting Randyll Tarly would be having in the coming days. Once he and the rest of the part has gone however you turn to Olymer and see him practically melting in the saddle, the sweat upon his brow so obvious you thought him caught a fever.
“It worked. Seven blood hells it worked Brynden,” he says in a shell shocked voice.
“I told you it would Olymer,” you respond allowing your voice to fall back into its usual less formal tone.
“Mace Tyrell is sure to see… He never turns down Lord Tarly not after the Battle of Ashford. It’s going to happen Brynden, it will go to trial. I know it, I’d swear it upon my father’s grave!” Olymer’s voice raises in excite, his face bright and happy rather than the nervous wreck it had been half the time in the woods. He leans over his horse and hugs you awkwardly, his voice having turnt to laughter and joy, “You owe me a drink, Brynden Malroy, and I plan to take you up on that.”
-Day Eight-
“My Lord do you plan to compete today?” Ser Jon Pryor asks you as your men break fast with you at the pavilion.
“In the joust?” you respond confused.
“No my Lord, apologizes for being unclear, in the Melee.”
You screw your face up, suddenly remembering how deep into the Tourney you were. Not to mention how entirely unsure you were if you should participate with a potential Trial by Combat so close upon the horizon, Benjin enters this section of the tent, having returned from the Qorgyle pavilion early in the morning, he takes his seat next to you and shakes his head when you pass him a look of questioning. No news was good news you supposed in this regard, rest is what Quentyn needed, not worrying minds. Lady Obara had requested you allow Arron to stay with his father for the next couple of days, something you were happy to grant, though leaving you squireless not as though that was a particularly difficult thing to deal with. Benjin does however produce a single letter sealed with golden wax that makes you assume it was from home before you notice the cornucopia pressed into the seal.
“It came this morning for you my Lord, House Merryweather I assume. I did not know you knew them.”
A smile spreads across you face as you open the letter, Ser Olson Merryweather, and his son Ser Orton Merryweather were not long past acquaintances, and had actually been the men who had told you what was occurring in Westeros during the Rebellion when you had stopped in Myr and met the exiled family entirely by chance. Olson was now calling himself Lord Olson Merryweather, and was inviting you to attend the melee with him, to catch up.
“We’ve met, briefly Benjin. During their exile, I hadn’t known the family had their lands and titles restored to them.”
“A few months past my Lord. Though at a significantly lessened state, as I am sure you are able to surmise from your own experiences.”
You nod and place the letter down on the table, rubbing your chin with your decision for the day.
What to do today?
>Attend the Melee with Lord Olson Merryweather
>Participate in the Melee
>>48212843
Sorry I'm just a bit slower today than usual. Not sure why.
>>48212904
>“One I will not be soon to forget Lord Malroy,” Randyll Tarly says gruffly, “
Get the feeling he may request Lorelei and Sam getting married (luckily for us it will be ruined when he gets sent to the wall. So maybe Dickon ?)
>>48212932
>Attend the Melee with Lord Olson Merryweather
I would prefer if we kept ourselves fresh for the archery competition and the possible Trial by Combat from the trial.
>>48212932
>Attend the Melee with Lord Olson Merryweather
>>48212932
>Attend the Melee with Lord Olson Merryweather
Lets make some more friends
>>48212932
>>Attend the Melee with Lord Olson Merryweather
>>48212932
>>Attend the Melee with Lord Olson Merryweather
Hopefully he isn't one of the seven.
>>48212932
>>Attend the Melee with Lord Olson Merryweather
>>48212932
>Attend the Melee with Lord Olson Merryweather
>>48212932
>Attend the Melee with Lord Olson Merryweather
I'd rather not participate after what happened to Quentyn and Oberyn warning
>A few months past my Lord.
[Shadowruns internally]
I'm not sayin' he's out to kill us, but if I was one of these 7 guys I would use this guy to pull the wool on Brynden while we place our pieces in a different position for the next strike.
Oh hey, since I just remembered. Since you won the Hunt you get a +1d3 to Influence. Exciting I know. Let me get that done real quick lest I forget.
>Roll 1d3 for Influence please.
Rolled 2 (1d3)
>>48213156
Rolled 3 (1d3)
>>48213156
oh boy
Rolled 2 (1d3)
>>48213156
Rolling
>>48213168
apparently it was a very influential stag
I hope his house won't be seeking revenge
>>48213167
>>48213168
>>48213173
And there we go, a +3 to Influence. Good job everyone. Man that was a lot of rolling today.
If you're curious I basically used the Master of the Hunt holding from OOSP, just the basic Hunt event, and set up the Hunt via the Hunt specialty from the core rulebook. It went much better than I expected.
>>48213215
Is that the most you've ever written 'Hunt' in a single sentence?
>>48213215
>used the Master of the Hunt holding
Is his name Mike?
>>48213288
No it is Harly Hunt.
>>48212382
Victus has a hot dornish princess to skirt chase.
Hes going to be the big brother who comes home to his sister(s) and cousins to embarress them and their suitors.
>>48213734
It would be funny if Victus was the one who took Arianne's maidenhead.
Holy fuck eat a dick captcha I'm not solving eight just to post!
>>48213797
It would also be terrifying if he got her pregnant. Would probably still get a high five from old man Bryden though, before he gets punched in the arm by Obella.
>>48213797
Nah she loses it to Daemon Sand.
>>48213810
Arianne is smart enough to drink moontea.
>>48213829
Truth be told, hes still going to get high five from his old man.
Victus when hes older is going to be made into a knight with a name and a house, Make damn sure of it.
Wonder what he'll change his last name to.
>>48213810
>Would probably still get a high five from old man Bryden
"Ha, Doran wanted to use pregnancy to strong-arm me into alliance? Well, boot's on the other foot now, isn't it, you gouty southern bastard?"
“No Ser Jon I think not,” you say tapping on the letter, “I am certain those among you who will be however will do House Malroy and your own proud. The best of luck to you all today, and may the Warrior guide your hand and see you to victory.”
Your assembled Knights give a cheer in response and you toast them all before leaving off with Benjin in tow, he takes a seat in your room, ruffling himself up in the heat of his woolen robes, as you change into more appropriate attire, “The Merryweathers were banished no less than three years ago my Lord. I am surprised to hear you have met them.”
“I made my way around the Free Cities Benjin, when I was in Myr I happened to meet Ser Owen Merryweather in a winesink, he recognized the horse and we became quick friends, I think this was sometime in 283, real early in the year. Spent the better part of a month trying to convince him to join up with me and the Second Sons, or hell come along and help me start my own company. Lord Owen Merryweather and his son, Olson, were kind and allowed me to stay with them in their manse. Though I doubt it was truly theirs, not the way the Myrmen spoke. They told me of the Rebellion, though I didn’t think much of it at the time, assuming it was a minor thing at worst. And then I went east on a contract out towards Volantis. One of Olson’s men was the one that found me way out there when I was summoned back to Westeros to take up the House. Suppose they were the only ones that could have possibly known.”
“Interesting my Lord. Well as I stated I am sure you known of their diminished status. It would not be wise to take up with them to any grand degree, in my humble opinion.”
“They’re friends Benjin. I was once in their position, not too long ago I will remind, if I can aid them, I will.”
“As you say my Lord.”
You slip on the lightest doublet you have, a sandsilk vestment that Obella had given you to replace a few older ones, even fit properly in the chest, amazing woman. The gold and purple were a bit brighter than your usual darker clothing, but it was so comfortable in the heat you hardly had cause to complain of your wife dressing you. Benjin sits uncomfortably watching you from the sweltering heat of his robes and you laugh much to his unamusement. You leave off from the pavilion not soon after, accompanying your Knights to the melee field, a much expanded and grander affair than the squire’s melee had been. Benjin leaves for the Qorgyle tent having collected all he needed to continue his treatment of Quentyn, taking Barq Zos along with him, Solhas coming with you to see the Merryweathers again.
A squire in gold and white meets you outside of the stands and guides you to a considerably lower seat amongst the nobility of the Reach, closer to the bottom just above the smallfolk in some areas, there you find Lord Olson Merryweather who stands to greet you with a wide crooked smile, you had forgotten how absurd the man looked when he was happy, his receding red hair, large lumpy nose, and crooked smile all coming together to make an absurd visage.
“Lord Brynden Malroy! It is a pleasure to see you again, only this time in our rightfully places. Please, sit with us, drink? Ah, Solhas good to see you again as well!”
You take Olson’s hand and shake it firm before being pulled into a laughing hug, “Good to see you as well Olson, I see your time in Myr treated you well, I had not thought you to remarry.”
Olson laughs again, “Seven be good Brynden, no. This is my son’s wife, Lady Taena of Myr.”
You look around Olson and are greeted with an absolutely stunning beauty who gracefully smiles at you, she reminds you of Elionwy in way, the fullness of her body, olive skin, almond shaped dark eyes. It takes you a moment longer but you suddenly remember her, Orton had been courting her while you were in Myr, a fact that was part of the reason he did not wish to join the Second Sons with you. She offers her hand and you lean over to kiss it, “A pleasure to meet you again my Lady.”
“Likewise,” she says simply in a sultry voice before sitting down again with a cross of her legs that left little to the imagination through the cut of her skirt.
Olson and yourself sit as well and you catch up briefly. It had been three months ago that Olson had received pardons from the Crown. His father, Owen Merryweather, had died just a few weeks before. They returned to Longtable, with a fraction of their lands and little to no wealth but were quickly rebuilding from the rigors of war and disrepair their keep had fallen into. Orton had been hard at work rebuilding their military, and putting the smallfolk in line again, quickly stamping out the lawlessness that had invaded. He was participating in the Melee at present but swore to come see you as soon as he was able. Olson meanwhile had been working on rebuilding his commerce, they had lost much of their forested lands and had only retained some of their fields for crops and livestock, the backbone of their House’s infrastructure. A feeling you knew all too well as you went on to explain the similar predicament you had found yourself in upon your return.
A herald calls your attention to the field and you give it the chance to look around from your seat, noting how you were at least three steps below where Ser Olymer Tyrell had sat with you just a few days prior. A drastic change, but friends were hard to come by, and you had never particularly discriminated.
The field is announced and you see about twenty score Knights and various other fighters emerge from the undercrofts onto the field, a few of the standards you recognize, and you are able to pick out the seven or so suits of black plate that denotes your own Knights. Jon Pryor, Titus Sarsfield, and Jon Pyle primarily among them. Olson points out Orton in his simple grey plate, the cornucopia upon his shield being the significant marking of his House. The flag raises and the crowd buzzes in anticipation roaring into life once it is dropped and the field breaks into absolute chaos.
Olson is upon his feet for a moment longer than necessary and sits again after realizing no one else around him was standing, his face now beet red. He leans over across his chair towards you, catching your attention from the field, “Brynden? Would you entertain an idea?”
“Of?”
“Possible trade? I will blunt and frank, Longtable is in shambles, and we have not the materials to rebuild her. The Lords of the Reach, my neighbours are asking for my son’s bloody first born for some wood. Wood! You are a family friend Brynden, and you know my predicament better than any other I can only imagine.”
Well, you did have the wood to spare, unprocessed but timber was timber when you were desperate it would seem. Not to mention your current need for food, Orton had once sworn to you that the turkey’s his family had raised were the best amongst any Lord of the Reach, his mouth nearly drooling at the thought. Meat would do the commonfolk well you think, not to mention your own high table. Olson looks at you expectedly, never a man of subtly, quick to a courtesies and giving those among him their due but never subtle intrigues that would so often leave him worse off, if you had half a mind you could certainly take him for a ride, friend or not.
Discuss trade with Lord Olson Merryweather?
>Yay, aggressively
>Yay, fairly
>Neigh
>>48213902
>>Yay, aggressively
>>Yay, fairly
Aggressively fair. Like a sellsword. Haha. No seriously just Fairly.
>>48213902
>Yay, fairly
>>48213902
>Yay, fairly
>>48213902
>Yay, fairly
They are in a terrible spot so we would be better off having good relations than squeesh them for everything they own.
>>48213902
>Yay, fairly
Maybe even give him a deal slightly better than he might hope for, but try not to make it seem like charity. Possibly play up how we need food a bit.
I'm sentimental about people recovering their family lands, sue me.
>>48213902
>Yay, aggressively
Then explain how we just got away with his small clothes and go into:
>Yay, fairly
Man needs all the help he can get, so we might as well teach him a point of bartering.
>>48213902
>Yay, fairly.
However, Olymer Tyrell will be our go between. I want to set him up as responsible for trade between us and the reach, increasing his standing and securing our goods as well.
Then we set up the Lords we are currently building infrastructure in Cracklaw point as a leg of trade between the Crownlands and the point.
Now we just need to create trade routes to the Westerlands and the Neck and we'll be the hub of a mini-trade empire.
>>48213902
>>Yay, fairly
>>48213980
Sounds like a plan. Especially if we can set up caravassi in each place. Though westerlands would not happen, lannisters have no need to tolerate us in their lands.
>>48213976
It's tempting. Might come across as patronising, but what the hell, i'd be on board if you think it'll teach him a valuable lesson.
>>48213980
>Olymer Tyrell will be our go between.
Good shout. If we can convince him to stay sober long enough to do a proper job.
Just kidding. I'm sure Father is just exaggerating how much he drinks....Right?
>>48213980
Noted, that'll add some interesting bits to the conversation.
>>48214017
It's one of the reasons why I want him to be the go-between of trade.
he is connected enough to have weight among higher brances of houses then his own.
He is able to control himself around liquor, so long as he isn't too stressed.
And he is insecure enough to both be bossed around by his wife and not ambitious enough to risk anything by trying to pull a fast one on us once trade in the reach has been established.
He is a tyrell man, but he becomes our face, and any fuck-ups can be attributed to his own insecurity and alcoholism (which he is more likely to blame himself for). And odds are he won't fuck up too bad, since his wife has a good head on her shoulders. That is the only place of argument, but once he establishes himself in trade she won't want to rock the boat either, since it'll buy her and him prestige.
>>48214252
Basically youve concocted a plan to hire his wife.
Good show.
>>48214252
Second Point, the Caravassi.
We should set up one of our boys or a third son to a house as a leader of the Caravassi. For all the points mentioned in the Olymer Tyrell post, but he'll have to be more competent and confident a person. Enough that should the need arise, he can exert some pressure on the point Lords since the sea trade/road trade (which we provide) and which will fuel the increase of their trade. We'll have them by the balls, but the third son will take the blame if shit goes awry. Ideally, when we go deal with the problem we make a show of him being part of our company and helpful, but not instrumental in purging the pirates.
We are all equals, but Brynden is a first among equals.
>>48214350
Lets wait with building that kind of shit. We have a long waiting list of things we need to make first.
http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/House_Merryweather
>Cersei's myrrish swamp
>>48214402
Thats where i remember her from.
>>48214402
L-lewd
>>48214402
Brynden likes myrish swamps, right ?
>>48214538
He prefers a dornish oasis.
>>48214545
So Obella is a squirter ?
Sitting back in your chair you put on a doubtful face, that out of the corner of your eye you catch causing Olson’s to droop in disappointment and him slumping back into his chair. You start to laugh and look over at him returning a perplexed face, “Come now Olson, do you truly think I would be so willing to leave you out in the rain?”
Olson smiles his crooked smile again and leans back over, producing a scroll detailing his House’s current incomes. Benjin was right, they had been diminished, at least half of their lands were gone, none of which had forest, months of crops had been taken as part of their penalty and debt owed to the Crown, with a few more yet still remaining. Primarily among his trade goods were the aforementioned turkeys that they had been granted to leave to maintain their production of primarily for their own incomes and trade and a few other things that were not particularly of use to you. Waxworks and herbs, nothing that would help feed your starving smallfolk.
“I’ll happily take the turkeys for timber Olson,” you say after a few moments of looking the paper over, “Let’s say three years worth of turkeys for a year of timber.”
Olson gaps at you, your face remaining stoic and unconcerned, “My… Brynden, you couldn’t possibly do any better?”
“Two and half. And four hundred dragons. Final offer Olson.”
His face droops again and he scribbles some figures in the margin of his scroll, nodding sadly at the numbers, “I… I suppose I can manage. The timber, is it processed at the least?”
“No. Raw. But beggars can’t be choosers. Don’t like my offer Olson, you take up with the Lords that want your son’s firstborn, I’m sure that’s fairer.”
Again Olson gaps before resignation settles upon his face, his voice obviously tinged with sadness by his House’s turn of events, “You are right Brynden. I would gladly acc-”
You fix him with a flat look that interrupts his sentence, “Olson, really? You’re going to just roll over like that?”
“E-excuse me?”
“I’m bending you over the table Olson. You’re House is poorly off, not destitute, Seven Hells man. Where’d your spine go?”
“Essos, when my wife died,” he says simply looking down at the paper, “She was the tradesmen. Had a head for numbers like no other. I produced, she traded, my father was happy. The east wasn’t kind to her, barely a year there and she took her own life.”
“I know Olson, Orton has told me before. Doesn’t mean you have to let them take you for a ride. Don’t come on so strong, your family still produces some of the best in the Reach, let them come to you. That has served me well enough. Come on now, let me see that.”
Olson smiles slightly and hands you the scroll, you tick through a few boxes, note his production was good enough to manage trade with you for nine months before it would begin to hurt. Your timber enterprise wasn’t anything particularly special at the moment, ramping up production would put the smallfolk to work, and maintain the wood necessary to rebuild Steadhold and manage to trade for at least a year.
“Tell you what Olson, I can give you a year’s worth of timber, in exchange for nine months of turkeys. Ser Olymer Tyrell will be handling the collection and exchanging of the goods as my liaison to the Reach, in exchange for three months of goods.”
“A Tyrell? Who works for you?”
“In the sense of the word yes. Though not upon my payroll, merely my middleman. I haven’t the ability to keep up with all of the Reach at once, nor know where or hows. He will be handling all of my trade deals, and of course will be taking his payment as necessary.”
Olson looks conflicted for a moment, “Brynden I am uncertain. The Tyrells have done little to help my family recover. It was not even them that requested my House, lands, and titles be restored. I feel as if this only complicates, would a simple trade between Longtable and Steadhold not be easier and less expensive to maintain?”
“Possibly, but it does little to expand trade in the long run Olson. Every network needs to begin somewhere, this does you no harm, in fact it is overly in your favor.”
Again Olson looks conflicted, scribbling notes in the margins and making noises of uncertain origin. You take the moment to watch the melee that rages on behind you. Ser Jon Pyle is fighting a Knight almost his equal in size in dark grey plate, you watch for his coat of arms for a few moments until he swings around on a heavy overhead strike that puts Pyle on his knees and you see the sigil of House Hightower upon his shield. Bloody good thing Mason wasn’t here for that, thankfully you had had little encounter with the Hightowers otherwise, though you doubted they would know who you or your men were. Pyle attempts to stand again only to receive hammer blow after hammer blow upon his shield from the Hightower’s pommel driving him down further and further and his shield into tatters. It isn’t long before your man relents and allows the Hightower the victory, knowing he had no foot left to mount a comeback and better to gracefully exit than upon his shield bloody and broken. The crowd cheers for the Hightower Knight as he goes off to stalk his next prey, an impressive fighter to be certain.
You look back at Olson who is nodding now to himself and chattering lightly with no one in particular, bst to just get this thing done and settled you decide.
>Roll 4d6 for Persuasion (Bargain) please. DC will correspond to the option a voted on below.
The Trade:
Option A:
>House Merryweather
Animal Husbandry: +2 House Fortunes
6 Months to House Malroy
3 Months/AKA 3 Wealth to Olymer Tyrell
>House Malroy
Timber
1 Year
OR
Option B:
>House Merryweather
Animal Husbandry: +2 House Fortunes
9 Months
>House Malroy
Timber
1 Year
Notes:
>Olymer as the middleman will receive “3 months” worth of goods over the stretch that House Merryweather is trading with you, that will be liquidated into Wealth he will use down the line for various purpose, the more you trade with the Reach with him as your middleman, the more he will accrue and build up infrastructure to help you in your trading and expanding his own Influence
>You will receive a 3 Month bonus on your Rebuilding Steadhold Deadline, bringing you up to 10 Months
>Two of your Trade deals (Animal Husbandry>High-Quality Leatherworks & Fishing>Processing) end in 4 months, which will lower your House Fortune and resource rolls as is appropriate (see OOSP for which and by how much), this will help mitigate that loss
>Winter is Coming
Vote:
>Option A
>Option B
Rolled 6, 4, 5, 4 = 19 (4d6)
>>48214696
Rolled 3, 1, 3, 3 = 10 (4d6)
>>48214696
>>Option A
Rolled 3, 3, 2, 2 = 10 (4d6)
>>48214696
>Option A
Rolled 1, 4, 5, 6 = 16 (4d6)
>>48214696
>Option A
Rolled 1, 5, 2 = 8 (3d6)
>>48214696
>Option A
>>48214663
Fuck, while Olson would stay loyal to us, his son Orton doesn't seems that much of an ally.
How long does he have to live anyway?
>>48214727
>>48214735
>>48214748
Christ good thing that 19 happened.
>>48214786
Orton and Brynden are friends too, I've mentioned that a couple of times.
>>48214696
>Option A
Winter may be coming, but is a few turkeys worth turning our backs on a Tyrell? And more to the point, a friend?
I'd say not.
>>48214786
Orton would not be stupid enough to fuck up his end of a trade network if it benefited his house.
He might want to play silly games, but then all the contacts in the reach who rely on that node would find work arounds, because shit is profitable.
Trade is a lot less easy to mess with when its widely established.
I like this. No one is getting screwed over, everyone wins.
>>48214900
It's pretty upbeat for ice and fire, true.
Want to join me in waiting for the other shoe to drop?
>>48214929
The other shoe is when the local protector lord sees it grow large enough to tax/want part of the pie, or sees it as a threat (if we do caravassi everywhere). Its also prone to allegations of smuggling without official oversight. Basically this vein of wealth can be tapped into by people high up than us because of our standing in relation to them.
Parasites always come eventually.
>>48214398
As a note those are all considered suggestions. You are beholden to absolutely none of them, just things your council have suggested in the past or Brynden has thought about. You guys do as you will/want I just put the suggestions there.
>>48214538
He's had them before, can't complain.
>>48214562
That sure is a sentence I read today.
>>48214929
Want me to kill someone in the Melee? I can do that. We haven't met our death quota in awhile, maiming and crippling sure, but not death. Okay I'll do it, I'm convinced.
Anyway, A clearly the winner here. The whole idea is pretty cool, I'm surprised I had absolutely nothing to do with it too, just sort of grew organically over the past couple of threads. Good job anons, proud of you.
>>48215011
>As a note those are all considered suggestions. You are beholden to absolutely none of them, just things your council have suggested in the past or Brynden has thought about. You guys do as you will/want I just put the suggestions there.
Some of them is rather urgent, Like the Town, Bridge and Tower.
>>48215011
We wouldn't need to do it if ya didn't throw as much shit at us as ya do!
>>48215011
>Want me to kill someone in the Melee? I can do that. We haven't met our death quota in awhile, maiming and crippling sure, but not death. Okay I'll do it, I'm convinced.
You spoil me dad.
>>48214989
That's the beauty of it though. By keeping several veins away from the heart, it doesn't make it seem like much.
The local lord protector in the reach would see an increase of trade from the reach into the crownlands, nothing too big and certainly nothing to get his nose bloody over. Same thing in the point, the neck, and in the Westerlands.
The only problem would be in the main hub, Brynden's lands. There the wealth would concentrate but if we crush Redward and his smattering of Alliance we become a dog with enough bite not to get screwed with.
Sure the crown might increase our taxes a bit, but goddamn we better call Saul when that happens. And we still have Arryn as a friend.
>>48215113
These people have established and extensive spy networks. They are lord paramounts. Your plan is good vs local nobility, but the top dogs will know.
>>48215163
True. I'm merely crossing my fingers hoping that we become big enough to local lords, but still small enough that trying to get the juice wouldn't be worth the squeeze.
>>48215395
Even if we become worth the squeeze, it just means our income stream is so large its inconsiquential. Plus people like income, so they are more likely to keep it safe out of mutual benefit.
Brynden Malroy Persuasion (Bargain): DC 15
>Success, one degree.
“Think of as being the first among many Olson. Orton will profit, the House will prosper as it grows. You being an initial member means you’ll have seniority, you’ll have the best pick and most influence to throw around, even if a Tyrell is heading it up you make your own deals and profit. There’s nothing to lose here Olson.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Not a single thing Olson, I swear it.”
Olson leans over and offers his hand, “A deal then. A mite scary for my taste, but a deal none the less.”
You take it and give a firm handshake, “I’ll let Ser Olymer know, he will come to speak to you as soon as he is able and will coordinate as necessary. Doubtful you will need to do anything special Olson, just provide the turkeys. My smallfolk will thank you for the meat in their stomachs. The rigors of war are not a fact lost upon me either my friend.”
Olson gives you a queer look and you explain the recent troubles since coming home, the invasion, and all of the more recent happenings, you find it taking longer than per usual as despite his appearance otherwise Olson was a better hand at swordsmanship and battle than he was with trade deals and asked you more than a few questions regarding your tactics. It almost takes you out of the melee though you turn to see it having thinned out considerably, only three of your Knights still among them, Ser Jon Pryor, Ambrose Oatwright, and Titus Sarsfield. The former and latter most are fighting together, warding off two knights from the Reach while Ambrose is viciously fighting the Hightower Knight from before.
“Olson, do you know that man,” you say pointing towards the two, “The Hightower.”
“Wish I hadn’t, that’s Ser Gerion Hightower,” Olson says wincing when Ambrose takes a nasty blow to the head, “Cousin of the main branch, his father died during the Rebellion when the Ironborn got uppity for a few weeks. Has an older sister named Glynda, she has a bastard son, and that’s all that’s left of that branch. Man has a chip on his shoulder the size of Hightower itself, and a terrible temper, him and his sister are not to be trifled with or so I am told.”
“Have neither married?” you ask watching Ambrose taking another nasty shot to the head only to rebound and slam his mailed fist into Gerion’s helmet.
“Gerion has turned down more than a few hands. Gylnda has no real worth from what I understand. Her bastard is the spawn of another, or so the rumors go. Guessing not much has changed in the past three years.”
Your face screws up as you think upon something for a moment, and though dismiss it as absurd and unlikely you feel compelled to ask regardless, “How old is the boy?”
“Fourteen, fifteen now? Couldn’t say in truth, he’s a good youth, tall and strong, was a favorite to win the squire’s melee, surprised he hadn’t. Rumor has it he looks like his father, pale and light eyed and fair of hair. Half the court suspects it was some sailor that her father had hung after he took her maidenhead, the other half say the man was banished for his deeds, not being worthy of his daugher. Clearly a topic of much speculation and gossip.”
You sit silently, watching Gerion Hightower pound away at Ambrose Oatwright. He looks like he’s fading, it doesn’t look like Gerion is relenting, and whether the steel is live or not he does not seem to care. He’s only targeted your men you recount, a Hightower with a sister and a bastard child the same age as Mason’s banishment. The pieces fit too well, your enemies were not subtle.
“Seven a-fucking-bove,” you whisper under your breath, half a moment before Gerion batters Ambrose in the head again. This time with the handguard of his sword right into the eye slit of his helmet, the crowd gasps and you go wide eyed, as Ambrose’s body shudders and falls limp to the ground a squirt of blood erupting from the helmet when Gerion’s sword is wrenched free.
Pryor and Sarsfield are quick to notice and both run across the field to where Gerion is standing over the body of one of your Knights. Sarsfield is upon his knees attempting to pull Ambrose’s head free of the shards of metal now buried into his face. Pryor is stand between them, his shield up and sword pointed at Gerion who hardly does anything but stare in the stands, the crowd is cheering, blood is blood but you know his eyes when they rest upon your general direction. Sarsfield finally gives up and allows Ambrose’s body to fall limp standing to join Pryor in their stand-off with Gerion. He gives you a look, shaking his head and you know Ambrose was dead, and it wasn’t an accident. You give him the signal to pull out, to forfeit, threatening to come down and it yourself if need be before he relents and pulls Pryor away to relay the message. You were not about to lose another two Knights to someone who clearly wished them dead.
The crowd boos as the two onyx plated Knights surrender and pick up their brother in arms. You find your head in your hands, another man dead for your wars. He was loyal and a good man, he did not deserve such a death. A small voice from behind you calls your attention, “Lord Brynden Malroy?”
You turn and see a boy in the green and gold of House Tyrell, though not Olymer’s squire, a different one, “Yes squire this is him, speak.”
“Lord Mace Tyrell requests you attend him in court, as immediately as possible. He did not say to what the audience would pertain, merely that you do so with haste.”
Olson looks at you wide eyed and you wave it off before looking back at the field, the melee continued on, and you had less investment in it now that your man’s blood had been spilled. Though Pryor and Sarsfield likely would have questions and deservedly so.
>Attend Mace Tyrell immediately
>Go to see your Knights
>>48215705
>Attend Mace Tyrell immediately
>>48215705
>>Attend Mace Tyrell immediately
>>48215705
>>Attend Mace Tyrell immediately
Gods fucking damnit this is bullshit.
What ever we do, that high tower fucker needs to be found dead by bandit attack, with an arrow through the eye.
>>48215705
>Attend Mace Tyrell immediately
We need to send a runner to our knights. Let them know that this is not going to be for nought.
>>48215779
We can't though. Someone will rat us out because Father doesn't want this to be easy. So he just fucks us constantly from any direction we aren't watching.
>>48215798
Shaddup with that tripe. Father wont make life easy, but hes not against letting us do things if we pull them off propperly.
>>48215794
How though? Only thing we can really do is say it was on purpose. He can then say it was just an accident and since he is a Hightower we lose.
>>48215798
What do you expect, if the trial of seven thing going to happen they want Brynden to have as few options as possible, a melee is a pretty good place to thin out the herd through "accidents" and injuries. Wah wah, someone died, come off it.
>>48215845
Dad also wants us to burn that favor from Oberyn as quick as possible.
>>48215871
I was hoping we could use it for the Trial of Seven.
>>48215828
The death wont be for nought because we will get what we came for, a trial.
That trial will save a lot of lives. We can fuck over hightower later.
Quick question, would we be allowed to use a bow for a trial of seven? Just saying if our guys can keep them off of us we can take down more then a few.
People please calm down a bit. Is it frustrating that one of ours died? Yes. Take a bit and go read something else. Come back a bit more calm.
>>48215892
Likely to end up in a courtyard with limited room. They will want to limit our ability to use a bow. Lets not rely on it.
>>48215845
No, you don't understand!
Ambrose was from a house so loyal during the rebellion that he was the last of it! We were going to land him eventually, and he could have built it back up.No, just kidding. Dontos said he'd be the first to die.
The best idea we could come up with in a 7v7 would be a horseback fight. That way we can use our bow and our knights their lances, if we choose to do so. Much more likely to end with heavy casualties on both sides tough unless Bryden can shoot out all their horses in quick fashion.
>>48215917
They can want that all they like, the trail is going to be a major spectacle. Most likely it'll be on the tourney fields with stands all to get as much visibility as possible.
>>48215932
We actually might have a really impressive team, us, most likely Oberyn and possibly Tarly and all of our knights
>>48216041
That is if dad can stop killing them.
And I'm only somewhat serious about this.
I don't get it, what did we did to Gerion Hightower?
>>48216041
Not likely to have Tarly for the fight unless we pull some -real- bullshit.
Definitely wouldn't join us if we called in Oberyn because of historic Reach/Dorne rivalry.
>>48216077
Mason fucked his sister.
>>48216077
Our knight took his sisters maiden head and got her pregnant drastically lowering her value.
>>48216077
Hes kind of salty our best bro gave his sister the D.
He's also dumb enough to make enemies over it.
>>48216118
>Obella will be murdered or die in childbirth during her next pregnancy.
“Olson could your squire deliver a message to my Knights in the undercroft?” you ask quickly.
“I… Yes Brynden, what?”
“That I will explain everything once I return from the castle tonight. I understand their outrage, I feel it too but I need them to not cause any disturbances, lest I return with more ire for them, than our enemies. Understood?”
Olson nods simply and you squeeze his shoulder, “Thank you friend. Tell Orton to be careful and you as well. All will be made clear in the days to come.”
You stand and flick your wrist for the squire to lead, the journey from the yard is not too far to the castle proper though once inside you find yourself climbing more stairs than you knew were possible to put into a castle. What bloody Lord kept court at the height of his castle? The rich ones you supposed. Most of the walk your mind was occupied with what you might have just uncovered. Mason never spoke of who the lady was, or if that story was even the true reason he had been exiled. If it had produced a child… Seven it would change everything for Mason. Would he leave Elionwy and attempt to gain her back? Would he never wish to know? Were you wrong in assuming and it was merely coincidence? Your mind wanders aimlessly, having more questions than answers and you almost run over the squire when he stops in front of a pair of large oaken doors.
“Lord Mace Tyrell will see you in his solar my Lord.”
You take in the full length of the carved doors, intricate flowers and vines line the whole of them, they made your door in Steadhold look like a tavern bar’s entrance. The squire stands in place with his hands crossed behind his back and you assume you are to enter on your own. With a deep breath, you push through finding yourself in another hallway, that leads to a smaller door, the walls lined with more portraits of former family members. A Knight stands guard at the final door and opens it for you as you approach.
“Lord Brynden Malroy of Steadhold,” he announces as you pass through the threshold and are greeted by the faces of Lord Mace Tyrell, Randyll Tarly and Paxter Redwyne whose head’s turn from the table to regard you fully.
“Lord Malroy, please sit,” Mace Tyrell says with a friendly smile and gesture, “I am sure you know Lords Redwyne and Tarly so introductions are not necessary.”
You nod, having little and less to say at this particular moment.
“Very well then. Lord Tarly has informed myself and Lord Redwyne of quite the issue you’ve been having of late. Even going so far as to petition we take the matter into our own hands and finish it here in trial, is this right?”
“Yes Lord Tyrell, it is.”
“Lord Redwyne and Tarly have both vouched for you. As has my cousin, Ser Olymer and the Knight of Huntsmen Hall, Ser Arlen Hunt. And Lord Mathis Rowan of Goldengrove. The only complaint I have heard of you is from a raving drunk and his fool of a sister. Though not so much a thing to fully your otherwise good will with the Lords of the Reach. So my Lord Malroy it comes to me then I do suppose,” Mace Tyrell stands to his full length, a bit of a pot belly protruding from his doublet. He strokes his goatee in thoughtful reflection, tapping his chin as if he were truly invested in something that could be considered small by his standards, “I will allow it…”
Your face brightens, you had your trial, your voice falters as you go to speak but not before he raises a finger waggling it for you to stop.
“Upon one condition.”
Seven above.
“You will joust my son, Willas Tyrell, tomorrow. No Tyrell has ever beaten a Malroy in a joust, I would like for him to be the first. If you do this you will have your trial in three days hence. I so swear upon the Seven. A simple task, yes? And oh how the smallfolk and nobleborn alike would take joy in seeing you ride...” he continues to ramble as your mind wanders, the beating flame in your chest coming to life again.
Eyes of wildfire she said. Ignited by passion, fueled by emotion. Anger had been her source, had been her fuel for so long, the emerald flame of vengeance burning brighter and brighter by the day. But not this time, you felt a different spark, that of elation, of joy, of hope. There was little other option, your mind did not care, with eyes of wildfire you look them all square and straight.
“Deal.”
[End Chapter XLVIII]
>>48216419
So, we will lose on purpose ?
>>48216419
This is going to hurt. It will also be paraded throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Also can we talk about the Hightower asshole?
>>48216419
WE WILL HAVE VENGEANCE!!!
>>48216441
Anon...
I doubt we even have to on purpose...
Brynden is shit at jousting.
Man that was a lot of rolling this thread, but look at that. You dun did it. Trial is a go all you have to do is joust, Brynden’s mortal enemy. I liked this thread, I have never done hunting before so that was fun and seeing the beginning of this trade network you guys want to put together beginning to form is pretty cool. Plus I got to introduce some new guys and I really enjoy writing Randyll Tarly.
Kind of surprised no one got the read between the lines meaning for the red hart though.
Also all your hard work paid off with meeting and greeting the Reachlords, you actually have a lot of big name allies or at the very least people who like you going on right now.
Anyway, I need to run out and do something real quick. I’ll be back later to answer questions, concerns etc. as always. Going to archive and all that.
Next thread is Sunday, 17 July at 2PM EST.
Thank you all for playing as always.
>>48216460
Not the first time Malroy put his reputation on the chopping block.
Eventually people are going to realize that these events are heralding him pulling off something and theyll start giving him influence instead.
>>48216494
Then explain the Red Heart then Dad.
We should probably tell Mason about his son,
>>48216397
>>48216419
Aww shit, this is where Oberyn ask to take our place and fuck up Willas? Oberyn you dick. you Glorious dick.
>>48216419
What happens if we absolutely crush Wilas Tyrell in the joust?
>>48216672
Not happening unless Father retcon the canon.
>>48216700
We need to show up Karban. Unhorse his fucking ass.
If were going to take a dive then lets make this the best joust of the day, break hopefully 15 lances and then take a dive making Willas look much better
>>48216743
We'll lose anyway don't worry.
>>48216725
No, no we really don't want to do that to a twelve year old. One bad fall will cripple the poor kid can you imagine that happening to the Tyrells heir at the tourney in his own honour...
>>48216788
Ya but what will make us and Willas look better, one single lance which makes us look and doesn't help Willas or a heated battle which we lose after making a strong showing making us and Willas look better
>>48216519
>Baratheon symbol
>color/name of your sworn enemy
Should be enough of a hint. Driving right now I'll be back in a bit.
Poor Obella. Unable to find Bryndens trunk and cannot even enjoy Bryndens trunk.
>>48216997
Oh.
Ok that's great. Can't wait. Looking forward to it.
>>48216997
Thought that might have been it when ya broiught it up but didn't want to sound stupid and be wrong.
>>48217284
>didn't want to sound stupid and be wrong
But Sleepy, you're a namefag.
>>48217425
SHUT IT YA DAMN TRIPFAG!!!!Nah love Targfag. Also typing the spoiler shit on a phone is fucking painful.
What was the Hightower promised?
Or did he act on his own
Curious to how mason will react to all of this
>>48216441
Not necessarily, Brynden is pretty shite at jousting in general.
>>48216460
Not as much as you think it would be. Also yes we may talk about Hightower asshole of the century.
>>48216506
It's weird how that works huh? Get fucked by Crown, fuck the Crown right back and win Archery Contest. Get fucked by Arryn, get awesome marriage. Get fucked by various people in the build up to the Tourney at Highgarden? Well we'll see.
>>48216550
That all depends very heavily upon what Brynden decides should be done with that information. You guys will get a chance to meet Gylnda here soon, get Mason's real backstory and then decide what to do with it.
>>48216672
No idea to be honest. I'm going to play it completely straight and see what happens then go from there. Also it depends upon whether or not Brynden decides to take a fall on purpose. Mace Tyrell didn't ask you to do it, because he is that confident in Willas' ability to unhorse him on his own.
>>48216743
Brynden is enough of a showman to pull that kind of shit off, but it would be totally on accident after about the third lance.
>>48217525
What all men with a chip on their shoulder are promised.
>>48218937
Hightower is going to get flak for killing our knight yeah? He can't hide behind his name and melee right?
>>48219501
What are you talking about? It was an entirely regrettable accident.
>>48219501
You know, for a section of the world dedicated to honor and combat there is anything but.
So our enemies are killing or injuring our supporters it seems. Makes it seem obvious now they are trying to rig their trial so Brynden won't have enough allies for the trial.
>>48215871
Honestly, I'm fine with that. Favours aren't a finite resource, there's always a chance we could get another from Oberyn Martell. It is a little frustrating we have to spend it so soon though
>>48216063
What I'd like is at least the opportunity to to stop one more 'accident' and keep these fuckers from further fixing the trial
>>48218937
>What all men with a chip on their shoulder are promised.
... revenge and gold?
Do you think it's possible to rope obeys into REVENGE without calling in the favour?
>>48221248
Nah, he's a bit mad that we got Quentyn into this mess in the first place. While I'm sure he'd appreciate in part being able to fight the men who were behind the attempt at his friend's life it'll still likely cost us that favour
>>48222414
we didn't get him into this mess he did it of his own
Should we pull out our knights from the rest of the joust ?
Alright I'm going to be around for the afternoon because I got to work from home today. Thank god. I'll do some Q&A if people are around or shoot the shit about what have you and bounce some ideas around if people have them.
>>48219501
Kind of sort of. He definitely could have stopped before it went that far, and anyone with eyes can see he was obviously going for Ambrose's head. Doing that kind of shit is very very frowned upon and an actual death, while not uncommon, could be considered a black mark when live steel isn't in play. Let me say however, Ambrose was not the only person who died in the melee, just the only one that was mentioned. And other people went home with injuries, concussions, etc.
But yeah, Gerion is going to catch flak for doing it and his winning of the Melee is going to be with an asterisks next to it.
>>48220076
Honor, chivalry, and all that stuff are Knightly ideals. While the Reach likes to play up how true they are to such things, it is incredibly doubtful that every man from there is the epitome of a Knight. Or that every man doesn't have a price.
That being said, Cardyn Lantell was from the Westerlands, so only 1 out of the 2 dick heads that fucked with you is a Reachman.
>>48220340
Very likely so. Or at the very least ward off other people from offering to help because this guy's people keep dying or getting hurt fuck that noise.
>>48220381
Nothing is making you spend it.
>>48220407
You had the opportunity to join the Melee, you chose not to, overwhelmingly so in fact. You couldn't have done anything to stop Quentyn getting hurt. And that's really all that's happened.
>>48221232
Bingo.
>>48221248
Possible? Yes. Difficult? Incredibly.
>>48224999
Not necessary. Unless you honestly and truly believe everyone is out to get you.
Which is a weird sentiment. Your friends and allies far, FAR out weigh your enemies. Not sure where this feeling that I'm entirely stacking the deck against you is coming from.
>>48227264
>Not sure where this feeling that I'm entirely stacking the deck against you is coming from.
Not saying that. Its just that there are people who are legit out to kill them. We should atleast inform them about it and let them choose whatever or not they want to pull out.
Christ Obella is gonna have our head for this "All you were suppose to was party, sell horses and a trial with a odd chance of trial by combat! Not court intrigues and plots!"
>>48227264
Will Mason blame himself when he hear Ambrose was killed due to his little affair ?
>>48227326
>implying Mason will be alive next time we see him
Y'all should have spent more on military.
>>48227404
I doubt it will be that bad. Half our allies are there aswell and the Steadhold walls are high and thick.
>>48227404
You're just mad cause we didnt pick your Valyrianfu. Bitch thought of herself more highly than she was.
Wanting us to help her and marry her but not take the only reason why Brynden would marry her (the dowry and heavy payment)
>>48227479
>Bitch thought of herself more highly than she was.
I thought it was her brother not wanting her to be used for their father's mad schemes of conquest in a supremely tense courtly atmosphere that might interpret a coalition of Valyrian houses gaining influence as a threat to Robert's still only weakly established rule?
>>48227508
From fathers ask
>Otherwise Helena saw Brynden as her knight in shining armor for multiple reasons. Her father's overbearing and controlling nature, his total willingness to use her as a pawn to subjugate the Malroys and then later Crackclaw Point and the bad track record of her sister's matches. Brynden was an out and Wilson's attempt to appeal to Brynden's better nature was her attempt to get out and stay out. Really it was all very messy and clearly nothing worked out the way they thought it would.
Seems like she was the mind behind it all
>>48227303
>We should atleast inform them about it and let them choose whatever or not they want to pull out.
Oh yeah, that's safe to assume would occur. Brynden promised to tell them what the hell was going on. They'll make their own decisions, and most are too proud to bail out now. Especially Jon Pryor who is still in the top 10.
>Christ Obella is gonna have our head for this
There are quite a few things Obella is not going to be a fan of. But will bite her tongue knowing Brynden is hurting.
>>48227326
A little bit. He hasn't thought about Gylnda in years and honestly thought Gerion would have gotten over it by now. Both of them married off and doing their thing. 15 years is a long time. That being said there is some stuff regarding Mason's backstory that'll explain what's really happening here.
>>48227404
Smallfolk don't complain when you've got the armored men to shut them up.
>>48227479
>>48227508
Column A and B.
>>48227533
Wilson also had his own part in it and a lot of it was him wanting to keep his sister safe. Wilson was and always had been a follower, but Helena isn't the schemer that Obella is and needed his help.
>>48227553
>Smallfolk don't complain when you've got the armored men to shut them up.
Right?
Tyranny is just one of those things that has no downsides. Ever.
>>48227650
There is a vast differene between Tyranny and not toleranting bullshit.
>>48227553
I take it Elionwy is not going to be too pleased about Mason Jr. ?
>>48227650
I'm actually kind of surprised I didn't get a call for just slapping their shit. If it had been voted for, I would have done it, play it as Brynden going down a darker path the further his road towards revenge takes him.
>>48227686
She won't be angry, just confused because Mason never mentioned it. Not that he knew regardless.
Hell you don't even have to tell either one of them.
>>48227863
I think we should atleast tell Mason. He is our friend and he has a right to know.
>>48227863
>I'm actually kind of surprised I didn't get a call for just slapping their shit.
/tg/ like to be heroes, on the whole.
While having historical precedent, having the chief complainants hanged or the population decimated to prove a point isn't something they'd commit to easily. There'd have to be some pretty dire circumstances going on imo.
Plus that kind of thing tends to undermine trust between a ruler and the ruled, and when ownership of the princewood relies on securing peace there, provoking the locals into banditry isn't going to help.
>>48227989
Word.
>>48228001
Its weird. /tg/ is fully capable being a evil Lich who turns entire nations into a wasteland with his rampaging horde of undeads, raising all those who fought against him into his service. But doing stuff like you mentioned is hard for them to do.
>>48227553
Just how would Obella had reacted if Brynden had slept with Lady Vyrwel and she found out ?
>>48228113
>>48228150
She better appreciate what we did!
She was a busty redhead!!!!
>>48227989
Well let's just say there's a reason Mason never told Brynden, who he considers his closest and most trust friend, about it. You guys will see.
>>48228001
Oh no I definitely know what you mean. But it was just not a single voice, which surprised me. Not that Brynden would be the type to anyway, I still maintain he falls into that Chaotic Good area. Putting down smallfolk riots with force is not the sort of shit he's into.
>>48228030
If I ran a different sort of MC it would probably happen. Hell I could have seen Garrette Brachen doing it. I think everyone has just gotten use to Brynden's general code of conduct now.
I would run a side quest if I had the time. I've been toying a couple different ideas and they are all very different from Brynden.
>>48228113
>>48228150
Though again, as I've mentioned before she would take it as a go ahead to sleep around a bit herself if she needed to for a mission. Obella has expressed sexual fidelity with Brynden, she doesn't do that for her own good.
>>48228172
She'll get more of a laugh out of it than anything.
>>48227264
>Which is a weird sentiment. Your friends and allies far, FAR out weigh your enemies. Not sure where this feeling that I'm entirely stacking the deck against you is coming from.
You've stated on earlier threads that you DO stack the deck against us. We have gotten better with dealing your shit but to constantly fuck us for doing decent when we have struggled? Kind of pissin in my cheerios there. But if we kill anyone oh no we are evil and un knightly. Doesn't even have to be someone important just a random hobo knight.
>>48228298
I take it Brynden made good use of that "favour" Obella gave him for the journey after that night ?
>>48228298
What is the names of Bryndens daughters ?¨
Also i made a ranking list
1: Lorelei/Victus
2: Illiad
3: Mason
4: Goldsong
5: Obella
6: Does really comfy wool socks with a hole in the heel Brynden got while in Braavos
>>48228494
>You've stated on earlier threads that you DO stack the deck against us.
Yeah I definitely do. There was a point where you were at such a disadvantage to do anything would have been foolish. It was purposely done to force that need to grow your influence, make friends, build up your forces and make long term plans that are outside of conventional warfare. I have stacked the deck against you from the beginning and you guys have managed to nearly completely turn it around.
What sort of innocent man who believes he is fully safe makes attempts on your friends and allies lives or threatens women and child with unmarked armies on their border? A desperate one.
>but to constantly fuck us for doing decent when we have struggled?
Again, I don't understand this. Where have I done that specifically where it can't be justified?
Citing Ambrose Oatwright, sure, but he was nameless rank and file all things considered. You didn't lose anything there. Its not like you lost Lucas or Wesley.
>But if we kill anyone oh no we are evil and un knightly.
Brynden routinely tortures people, and sure as hell isn't a Knight. Not sure that sentiment has a leg to stand on. When have I ever disallowed you from killing someone? I cant honestly say I have. Characters might express their distaste for certain actions and may even leave over it, but I have never ever said full stop, "No you may not kill this man."
I'm entirely willing to have a civil conversation about this, so please go ahead. I just don't see where it's coming from now that you guys have basically turned the tables.
>>48228502
Hahaha Yeah I'd suppose so. He likes to keep important things in his breast pocket, you'd find a skimpy bit of myrish lace there if you looked.
>>48228593
The other two you mean?
Well the one in Lys is named Visenya Orlisis, her mother is Ysaeria Orlisis.
The other one, who I can't remember the location of, I never actually named. She isn't too interesting, just a whore's daughter.
>>48228725
Cool.
>The other one, who I can't remember the location of, I never actually named. She isn't too interesting, just a whore's daughter.
Think you said Pentos.
Also that list was suppose to say "Bryndens love list"
>>48228747
>Think you said Pentos.
>Varys and his Magister friend finds out about her and plan to use her in a plot.
>All of this will cause Brynden to get maimed so badly he will never shoot another bow
Dad. ANy chance that any of our children will get Greensight ?
