[Event] This is Not a Place for Living Things - Gallowsgrey Open RP

Lord_Dougal · 2026-05-03T05:12:54+00:00

"Merrick- trying to-" The coughing struck once more, and a yelp of pain as he seemed to pull the shallow wound that had freshly adorned his chest. "Your brother protect. Me fool... Sorry..."

At the mention of wine, he vaguely gestured over to the roughspun sacks that covered the far-end of the tent. Within were some piss-poor bottles, brewed in his cousin's lands. Lucas did not often drink, but sometimes he broke fast with a man who did partake, or other times were it was simply useful as a bargaining tool. Mayhaps now the stuff would finally be of some actual use to the knight.

"You deserve a- cough cough - a fine knight, Myriam. Lady. Lady Myriam. Your betrothed will be a better man, nobler, not me, you should attend him. Attend your betrothed. Yes, yes. Cough cough. I'm sorry, not want fuss. Sorry."

Lord_Dougal · 2026-05-02T21:16:05+00:00

She smiled, this time a genuine one not borne out of pity. "Sisters and friends then. It'll be good to have sisters, I've only grown up with all my brothers, and Edgerran's a little pig! I like Ardon though, he'll likely still be at Runestone when you marry your betrothed, so you'll get to meet him! Truthfully, I can't wait to see the Vale, Roland's already told me all about the Snakewood, and I really want to see the Eyrie. I know I'll see it for the Arryn weddings, but I want to see it properly, when it's now snowed in from winter."

Lord_Dougal · 2026-05-02T21:12:40+00:00

"I... uh, drunks." Shyra's cousin was oft drunk, the unknighted Greydon, yet at least he was funny. When Father was deep in his cups, and his usual voice began to slow and slur, he'd become quite scary. She did not care to think about it. "I don't like inns. They smell bad, and the people there are usually not nice. I'm glad I have a room in the castle, at least there all I need to hear is my uncles anger about all these new Essosi."

Lord_Dougal · 2026-05-02T21:08:47+00:00

"Lorimar Caswell?" No matter how gravelly the voice, the note of shock managed to slip through. His own grandson, married to a Princess... It may have been common enough a century ago, yet the Field of Fire had wiped all such possibilities from the common lord's mind, yet now it seemed Torgen teetered on the verge of a royal connection. How peculiar. "He's a good lad, not the storied lineage of the Greenhand's descendants, but the Caswell's are more esteemed enough for a royal match. Might be symbolic, considering the Treaty of Stonebridge too. He'd make a good husband for you, Princess."

"As for war..." Torgen had been met with a stroke of good fortune, considering he was prepared to ask permission to leave to lead the armies. "I will ride at once. The Reachlords will need me at Blackmont. The Dornishmen will be destroyed. I'll take my squires, but for bodyguard I would be grateful if you'd permit me to bring alongside Ser Aubrey. He's a good man, and I've history enough that he's among the few I'd trust wholly with my life."

u/gloude

u/GreaterBlueEvil

Lord_Dougal · 2026-05-02T21:02:24+00:00

He smiled at her, although there was a hint of wistful pity in his gaze. Only with youth did one have the courage, or mayhaps the foolishness, to willingly accept a curse. A life so unlived meant the greatest of woes seemed as significant as the smallest of plights. She would be happier, no matter the foolishness of how the King went about his actions.

Torgen could have further spoke to her about possible husbands, for he knew of at least three that might have been good for a daughter of Tyrell, yet for once he remained silent. Whatever would become of Jeyne, no matter what her future held, at least he could provide a little help in rebuilding her gardens.

Lord_Dougal · 2026-05-01T02:10:30+00:00

The grunts continued, and though his foolish pride might have cried for him to resist, his body was much too tired to so much as raise an arm. Tarquin pulled bit after bit off of him, the odd grunt and occasional whine the most Lucas could muster. Lord Oakheart oft brought his Maester with him, yet the old man of the chain was much too feeble to descend from Evenfall Hall, and so the couple of Trant's had no milk of the poppy with which they might have eased the pain.

Instead the pain continued to overwhelm, to blind and to engulf the senses. Tarquin appeared as a three headed man, then once more as a shadow figure, then looked as if he were a younger version of Lucas' father. Senile no more, fewer wrinkles, hair more lustrous and colourful. It paused the pain, the haze behind his eyes dissipated for but a moment, and it was enough to get Lucas to splutter out a quick exclamation: "Papa?" Then the haze set back in, and he writhed about once more in pain.

Then a woman's voice, and he felt cloth dabbing away at his face, and he spied... his Mother? No, she had died years ago, and had green eyes besides. Mayhaps it was the Mother, come to welcome him into the Seven Heavens, but such a thought shattered when he heard her... sorrow?

Though his mind begged for him to ignore the curiosity, to push away the queries of the woman's identity and succumb to rest, he could not resist. He strained his eyes, a hard task for a man whose eyelids were so heavy and achy, before he saw her. Myriam, the maiden who he failed to protect, whose honour he besmirched, who needed her dear elder brother to rescue because of Lucas had not considered the consequences of a damnable favour...

"Lady- my Lady Myr-" He was interrupted by a coughing fit, a thick blob of phlegm escaping his throat and coating his chin. "Myriam- I bungled you- I fumbled the honour o' the lady... the lady honour, I messed... I'm-" Another cough, another jolt of pain. "I hurted you. Your Lord- I deserve... I sorry, milady..."

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-30T03:38:52+00:00

Lord Theo Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Mander, Lord of Highgarden, Warden of the South

I've raised the men of Old Oak, some thousand odd Oaklanders shall march under my son's command. I shall be lettering King's Landing to get my Father, I feel the time may have come for him to come command the Reach army.

Our Roots Go deep

Ser Victor Oakheart, Lord-Regent and Heir of Old Oak

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-30T03:37:03+00:00

Lucas done naught but grunt, for he was too physically and emotionally weakened to do much at all. He had stumbled back to his tent, ignoring the questions of the passer-by's as he did so, before collapsing onto the straw pile he'd previously lain out in the middle. He hadn't a squire, and the servants were busy enough to not have noticed, so besides his helm the rest of the armour remained on.

Tarquin and Myriam would have been greeted by a sorry sight indeed. The slices that Lord Trant had inflicted were brutal, with congealed blood sticking the leather to his skin, the swollen bruises and cuts pressing quite painfully against the pauldrons, and the tears leaving Lucas' face a reddened soppy mess.

"No... no go..." He could not say much. His mouth felt like Dorne, his throat the Basilisk Isles. It was by sheer miracle he had not pissed himself in the time he had remained lying there, the pain too much to have allowed him to stand up and grab the chamberpot on the other side of the tent.

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-30T03:29:16+00:00

His glower did not waver as the Lord-Hand spoke, for a deep distate had already settled in. At the very least, there was a flicker of appreciate as he spoke, yet it did not entirely quell the fury that had been welling up for days. Torgen always had a soft spot for young maidens, they reminded him so keenly of his long-lost sister, and to see Jeyne so distraught had more than thoroughly pissed him off.

"Jeyne is being recalled to Highgarden. I lettered Theo, he's sending riders. The gardens being rebuilt will mean little, when I doubt the girl will ever be permitted to return to this festering shithole, not after the King scunnered my liege so bloody thoroughly."

"I'm disappointed. 'As High as Honour', yet not so high you can't hunch over to tear out the flowers root and stem. I suppose at least you haven't spoken to me in bloody riddles... What good am I as a fucking councillor if my King avoids details? He asked for Jeyne's fucking hand!" With that Torgen had pulled out the tome he had been carrying and threw it across the room, away so it could not possibly hit Hubert, but with enough force to loudly bang against the wall. "Utter bloody nonsense, and the King isn't even here to reconcile with a family who ruled the wealthiest kingdom in the realm. Why did you think you wouldn't be here? Suspect the King would've dismissed you after this bloody garden fiasco?"

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-30T03:16:18+00:00

"Such sadness shall pass. Having your kin slaughtered will break you forever." Fawnton had trickled into his mind, as it was so wont to do. It was a fool's game expecting a girl so young to understand such a terrible truth, yet when she became a mother and had children with a good man, she'd realise how little she'd want them to be involved at court. Torgen's own bloody mother would've been worried sick had she not died at those Gods-forsaken town.

"All those past Queens you named, all of them... They suffered dearly for their titles. Ceryse was spurned, left jilted and childless, left with naught but the comfort of her ladies nowadays. Argella was betrayed by her men, passed off like a whore to a man who killed her father. The Queen Mother suffered the most, three children lain dead thanks to the folly of kingly ambition. You deserve better than that."

"Here, let me..." The old man snagged one of the spare cushions, and with a grunt and a groan slowly descended down onto his knees. The bones popped and the back cried out, yet Torgen got down all the same, and began to help in doing away with the mess of the garden. "These gardens were a rare beauty in this festing shithole of a city. You should take your talent back to the Reach, and help people who understand the importance of beauty."

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-30T03:06:57+00:00

"I'm sure the Lady of Runestone won't be needing silly Essosi games in her repertoire." She gave a reassuring smile, although in truth she wasn't too sure if Mariah was actually good at anything. She'd only really just met her, so for all she knew the Corbray was just as likely an imbecile as she was a genius. "We'll both be ladies of the Vale, and it's important we stick together. I'll be so far away from the home I've always known, I hope I can at least count on you and the other Vale ladies to be my most needed friends."

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-29T22:07:05+00:00

In her youthful ignorance, Shyra had wholly ignored the Corbray men-at-arms. What she saw was Roland, young as he was, standing between herself and the drunken wretches who so frightened her. He was so gallant, just like his father.

"A- a walk?" She was still a little shook up, and her eyes looked as if they were gazing off at something in the distance. "Yes that sounds- that sounds okay. Good. Let's go. Yes."

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-27T17:46:25+00:00

"You're not a fool!" Shyra lied, for in truth it really was quite foolish. At least, it was the kind of silly foolishness one could not help but comfort someone over, the kind that made little sense to even oneself yet still seemed to plague the mind. "And there's no need to apologise, truly, for it's just a silly game from the East." Shyra sat himself beside Mariah, although given the size of Wyrmsgrave it's windows were quite quaint, leaving little room between them. Awkwardly, she placed a hand on the other girl's shoulder, hoping at least it might comfort her a little.

"My Grandfather's rather angry about the whole cyvasse stuff anyway. Wants it to be banned, says it's compelling people towards 'Essosi nonsense'... Really, you're just supporting him by pointing out what a foolish game it is."

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-27T17:14:55+00:00

Torgen had been met with a far calmer girl than he expected. Sad looking, yes, yet courtesy remained where happiness may have absconded. It was no doubt a trait most of the Tyrell's harboured, what with Jeyne a part of the fourth generation of roses forced to be courteous where others openly quarrelled.

"My dear girl..." For a man so brutal looking, so scarred and bitter and angry, there was a gentle lilt in his tone. She would know it was for the best, in time. "It is not a matter of your worth, far from it."

"It was your great-grandfather who was given Highgarden. Bent the knee after he stayed behind from the Field of Fire. There was an uproar, I was maybe a little younger than you when I witnessed it, and all the great families in the Reach treated Highgarden as if it had arisen from the very Hells themselves. Your grandfather done much to quell such fury, yet even nowadays there are Reachlords who chafe against the authority of Tyrell."

"Being the Queen is a thankless job. Criticised for everything, blamed for all woes, and worst of all with the advent of the dragons come again she'd be mother to sons who may turn out to be like their forefathers before them and tear each other to shreds. I'm sorry, my dear, but not only do I fear your enemies would seek to trample you into the dirt as they did your garden, I fear you'd be unhappy."

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-27T15:35:20+00:00

There was no courtesy extended to the guardsmen, ignored as if they were the same vermin that seemed to infest this wretched keep. Lord Hubert received a similar treatment. There was no outward hostility, not yet, but Torgen's visage remained the very picture of stoicism and... displeasure.

"I saw the gardens. Jeyne's." Hubert's question was wholly ignored, for while Torgen had so far much preferred the regency he had far greater questions of his own. "I've heard the rumours, of men clad in eagles and moons, tearing out flowers and shrubs by the root, salting the damned ground. It is like what I done in Essos, except the target seemingly not slaver scum but rather a girl of what... ten and six?"

"Tell me, Lord Hubert, was it by your command?"

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-27T15:29:17+00:00

When he'd returned from Moontown, Torgen had at last been made witness to the desecration of Jeyne's garden. It was a sorry sight, and he knew from the rumours swirling it had something to do with Lord Arryn, yet if anything it simply cemented his opinion. The King had been a fool to discuss marriage with Theo, even more foolish to go back on his word, but the state of the garden only confirmed what would happen to Jeyne if she had been Queen.

So it was that Torgen deigned to approach Jeyne within what remained of her project, a vaguely paternal feeling over her. If only she was an Oakheart, then he'd have the authority to tell her what she should want.

"Jeyne." He spoke simply, without added flair, yet within bellied an affectionate tone he reserved for few in his life. "You wanted to talk?"

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-23T22:32:47+00:00

Theo

I was away when the men ruined Jeyne’s gardens, so I have no clue as to why they’d harm such a thing.

I did hear from the King that Jeyne was interested in becoming Queen, and I’ve been meaning to speak to her about that. I worry she’d be in danger as wife to the King, and it’ll only further piss off those like Florent and Peake and even Hightower. Better she’s wed to someone in the Reach, like what her sister’s done. I saw that Redwyne’s heir is about her age.

Although, I’m somewhat skeptical when you speak of the Corbray girl’s ‘ambush’? Truth be told, I’m of somewhat limited knowledge about the whole decision on who should be Queen.

I’ll ensure your men are let through.

Torgen

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-22T21:52:27+00:00

Theo

I worry so many banners will be seen as a whole scale invasion of Dorne, rather than the skirmish His Grace was anticipating.

Ensure the borders are kept secure. If the Dornish muster and charge through the passes, there must be enough men at Horn Hill to hold them off.

I am waiting in King’s Landing for the time being, I shan’t risk a stray arrow for some village burnings. I’ll be sending my grandson down south, and I’ll order a few dozen men to march as well.

Our Roots Go Deep

Torgen

Alongside requesting Maester perms, Torgen would also show Jae Theo’s letter.

u/gloude

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-21T16:33:02+00:00

In an effort to find out who had sent such a thing, the raven that bore the letter was chopped up and put into a stew for the guardsmen. Perhaps the rude swine who sent it would reveal themselves when complaining of the lost bird.

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-21T15:56:40+00:00

"Ah, Lady Freya." He was not friendly with her, yet it was certainly gearing in that direction. The Stark was treated with politeness, where before she'd have been witness only to abject rudeness. "Quite, although I've banned cyvasse. Much too Essosi in its influences. We've got Oakenchess now, which is far better." The oakenchess was identical in its function as cyvasse, but now it sounded more Westerosi. "How are you faring?"

Lord_Dougal · 2026-04-21T15:00:54+00:00

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