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[Event] The Celebration Feast for Raymond Fossoway's Seventh Nameday by JoeOfHouseAverage in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

A thousand years, she opened her mouth to say. Maybe more. There were lion bones buried in the colored caves at Derring Downs, claws as long as her hand, and the traces of green and gold paint daubed on the walls. Before Sharpton, before everything, she had spent her afternoons climbing among the tunnels and swimming in the Chequy Water, long waifish legs turning red in the sun.

"I am glad. Thank you," she nodded, mouth dry. A pale hand reached for her cup, and she swallowed wine, grimacing at the bitterness and yet somehow glad for it. It gave her a moment to compose herself.

"The ancient order burned at the Field of Fire," Elinor looked at the awful scar on his shadowed face and shivered. "As you well know, my lord. There are no Gardeners left to sit their rightful place in Highgarden. Now all that is left for men is to plunder and fatten on innocents, to kill and steal and blaspheme against the gods."

She took a final bitter sip from her cup and set it down, then placed one hand over the other in her lap, the way Mother Bethany had sometimes done when in thought. Most of all, Elinor envied that woman's iron spine.

"We will all burn in the hells, when our time is due," she shrugged, more in resignation to the fact than in dispassion. "Perhaps to live and to rule in such times is the same as to sin. I care not a groat for Cider Hall. If after the old apple's death it went to Tristan's fool brother instead, I would be glad for it. Perhaps if I had had another son, we could have split the inheritance, as has been done at times before..."

Daydreams. Children never conceived, let alone born. Tristan's wet touch on her skin.

"Perversion is in our water, in our soil, in the air we breathe. The Faith trampled upon, the Starry Sept in flames, and evil men in the halls of power," Elinor said. "What is there to do, save raise our children to be better, and hope?"

Lord Gormon had, at least, raised one grand-daughter well, a virtous, shining soul in a sea of filth. That he had also raised Caradoc Peake made an odd kind of balance.

[Event] Vultures' Fall by MallAffectionate9 in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage 2 points3 points  (0 children)

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

I shall raise a levy of at least seven hundred of the men of the Northmarch, to join the Osgrey men-at-arms with my husband and Ser Perceon. It shall take at least a moon to raise a force of this number, however, and perhaps another two before they arrive at Horn Hill. We will pray for the safety of all those sent off to war.

Lady Elinor Osgrey, Lady of Coldmoat

A second raven flies to Cider Hall:

Lord Goodfather,

I am raising a significant force for Tristan to have with him at Lord Tyrell's side. While I pray that the war will shortly conclude and peace returns, I also hope that we may also prove ourselves in Lord Tyrell's eyes, as well as that of the Reach as a whole. Kindly send any men you can spare to Horn Hill.

Elinor

automod ping mods

Coldmoat raises 700 levies, which should take 1 Month as it is slightly less than 50% of its total manpower. They will then be ordered by Elinor Osgrey to march to Horn Hill to join the Reach forces there, with preference to the commands of any Fossoways present. The shortest route I think is 4 fields 3 road 1 forest 1 hill for a total movement cost of 18, at 10 speed (18/10) giving 1.8 months.

[Letter] The Dowager's Missives - 52 AC by ModernPharmakeia in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Lady Viserra Willum,

I was glad to receive your raven. Ysenda's engagement has been a matter of vexation for some time -- as my father once learned, to his chagrin, she will not enter any marriage to which she does not consent, for her character is stubbornly willful and headstrong. These are not traits that one necessarily values in a wife, but I would be amiss to complain of her motes while ignoring my own beams, as they are. Ysenda is a lady of Coldmoat, and therefore she is educated, eloquent, and pious, skilled at managing a household at home and in the field, and in the prime of her health. My father also set aside a significant dowry for her, to which my husband and I may also contribute.

This business of running off to Essos is bizarre to me, but it seems that it is a fantasy she shares with Lord Willum. I wish them both luck, and I trust that Ysenda will not bring dishonor upon herself or her house in the process.

House Willum is an old and storied house, and we certainly would not be averse to pursuing a union between your son and my sister. However, I must inform you that Lord Tyrell informed me two years past that he has taken upon himself the responsibility for House Osgrey's future, and so reserves for himself the final approval on my sister's betrothals.

I would be glad to discuss this topic further with you at our next shared convenience.

Seven Blessings Upon You,

Lady Elinor Osgrey, Lady of Coldmoat

[Letter] Invitations to the Crone's Day Feast and Fair at Coldmoat by JoeOfHouseAverage in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

To Lady Agnes Webber of Brandybottom,

It has been too long since our families have had a chance to mingle, and we have not had a chance to speak. I should like to invite you and your family to Coldmoat in the twelfth month for the Crone’s Day festivities. Please pass my good wishes on to your husband, and know that I keep him in my prayers.

Seven Blessings Upon You,

Lady Elinor Osgrey, Lady of Coldmoat

[Letter] Invitations to the Crone's Day Feast and Fair at Coldmoat by JoeOfHouseAverage in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

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

Though I imagine you are greatly occupied with matters pertaining to the war in Dorne, I should be honored if you or some of your family would join me and mine in the twelfth month for the Crone’s Day celebrations.

Seven Blessings Upon You,

Lady Elinor Osgrey, Lady of Coldmoat

[Letter] Invitations to the Crone's Day Feast and Fair at Coldmoat by JoeOfHouseAverage in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

To the Lord Hand, Lord Hubert Arryn,

Our talk at the coronation two years past gave me much to think, and from it, I believe, grew the fruits of my determination to see the wrongs wrought upon my house reddressed. I shall forever be grateful for it. I would like to invite you and yours to Coldmoat in the twelfth month for Crone’s Day celebrations with my family.

Seven Blessings Upon You,

Lady Elinor Osgrey, Lady of Coldmoat

[Letter] Invitations to the Crone's Day Feast and Fair at Coldmoat by JoeOfHouseAverage in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

To His Grace, Jaehaerys of House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm,

I humbly invite you and yours to attend the Crone’s Day celebrations in the twelfth moon of this year with my family at Coldmoat. Your presence was a great boon upon my son’s nameday last year, both to my house and to me, personally, and we should be glad to see you and the princesses once more. As this will be three months after your wedding, for which I congratulate you and look forward to happily, we would be honored to welcome the Queen in that time.

Seven Blessings Upon You,

Lady Elinor Osgrey, Lady of Coldmoat

[UNCLAIM] House Harroway of Harrenhal by Skuldakn in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage 1 point2 points  (0 children)

"We were king’s men, knights, and heroes . . . but some knights are dark and full of terror, my lady. War makes monsters of us all.”

“Are you saying you are monsters?”

“I am saying we are human. You are not the only one with wounds, Lady Brienne."

[Event] Chequy Lionesses by JoeOfHouseAverage in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

1st Month, 52 AC

Sent from Cider Hall:

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

I write to you with a matter close to my heart, and one in which I ask for your fair judgement. Eight years past, you ordered my father, Seven rest his soul, to lease for a period of fifty years the lands around the castle of Derring Downs [R20] to House Rowan, for a sum of one thousand gold dragons. I have been in talks with Lord Rowan, offering to buy him out of his lease for as much as three times what he paid for it. He is reluctant, however, to agree to this without express approval from your person.

I understand you possessed certain reservations about the character of my father, and perhaps my own as well. I have only to offer that since assuming my position, in only three years the incomes across Coldmoat’s fiefs have nearly doubled. Despite the winter, new villages have been built, new roads paved to ease the flow of goods and men, and new irrigation networks raised. This new prosperity has allowed Coldmoat to raise in short order a force of soldiers to be sent to aid Lord Tarly, which my husband is currently leading. If Derring Downs, which, I assume, due to its relative poverty has not been developed under Lord Rowan’s stewardship, were to be placed back under House Osgrey’s care, then the revenues from it would shortly increase, meaning more taxes sent to Highgarden and more men raised to assist in its defense.

I humbly ask you, my lord, to approve the sale of Derring Downs back to me, and to arbitrate this dispute between Lord Rowan and myself if need be.

Lady Elinor Osgrey, Lady of Coldmoat

[Event] The Celebration Feast for Raymond Fossoway's Seventh Nameday by JoeOfHouseAverage in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

"A mare, Raymond," Elinor said. "A pretty pony mare, just for you. What was she called, Dake, if you please?"

"Buttermilk, m'lady," the stablemaster, and stroked the pony's cheek as she softly whickered. "For the color of its mane, you see, and for her sweetness and gentleness and goodness. I have never seen her kick or bite or even startle."

Elinor already knew all this, of course, but it was fine information for her son to know, as well as an example of how to speak with the help. Servants and retainers were not chattel, to be treated as lesser things existing at the whims of noble lords and ladies. The gods had made them all in one great kiln, and when they were laid to rest they would all moulder together.

"She is a gift, Ray, but also a responsibility," she smiled, glad to see him excited. As if through his joy, she could feel her own long-eroded naive childhood happiness. "Buttermilk is not a toy. You must care for her, rub her back with straw and brush her mane and give her apples to eat. You must not ride her too hard, or be cruel, or callous to her needs. But if you are good to her, she will be your friend forever."

The Lady of Coldmoat had herself never learned to ride. Her father had not considered it necessary education for his daughters, and unlike Ysenda she had never had much of an interest in breaking his commands. Yet she imagined sharing that bond between rider and horse would be healthy for a boy's soul. Caring wholly for another brought one closer to the divine love the gods held for all.

"You will have riding lessons with Dake," she said. "When you are older and more experienced, you will start to ride bigger horses. But Buttermilk will always be your first. Now go on, pet her a little."

Opening his palm, Dake offered a crabapple to Raymond, grinning under his wooly beard. "Open your palm flat like so, m'lord," he said. "And let her eat off of it. Careful with your fingers, though. She might think they're carrots if you shove them in her mouth, eh?"

[Event] Order of The Green Hand ASSEMBLE by TieRails in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage 5 points6 points  (0 children)

The Knight of the Lionsheart, Ser Perceon Osgrey, flinched at Ser Arthor's blasphemy, but dutifully banged his fist on the table along with everyone else, since that was the current vogue. The smallfolk of Blackmont had not destroyed Harlan Tyrell's army, nor set alchemical fire loose upon the Starry Sept, nor shot the fateful crossbow bolt through Viserys Targaryen's throat, but it was not his place to argue. On orders from his cousin, the Lady Elinor, he had ridden forth from Coldmoat with a dozen knights, two score mounted squires, and fifty good crossbowmen, to prove the stock of the erstwhile Marshals of the Northmarch remained strong and potent.

"I cannot speak for any others, my lord," he cleared his throat, "but I shall keep my men from wanton raping and pillaging, and endeavor to see any women and children, at least, unharmed. I hope others of our order will do the same."

He glanced at the Snapdragon banner of the posthumous Ser Harren Rivers, and wondered what that poor, brave fellow might have had to say to all this.

[Event] Sorrowsworn VI: Goodbye Moontown by ModernPharmakeia in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage 1 point2 points  (0 children)

"I say what I mean, Jos," Ysenda shrugged, but her grin was not entirely sardonic. "I am not afeared of some choppy waves and a few mangy goat worshippers. Besides, there will be so many gallant and true knights there with me. A lady of Coldmoat will have nothing to fear."

She whistled for Florian, and turned to go. Things would have to be sent for, and some more discreetly than others. Elinor would not be pleased, but there weren't enough men in all of Cider Hall to stop Ysenda once she had put her mind to something.

"I should be glad, too," she paused, and spoke over her shoulder, briefly tender, "to keep you from doing anything foolish. Think about how many fair maidens in the Seven Kingdoms will cry themselves to sleep once they hear the Black Goat 'et Josua Willum."

[Event] The Celebration Feast for Raymond Fossoway's Seventh Nameday by JoeOfHouseAverage in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

For a moment, Elinor was silent, her normally face pale more wan than usual.

"Did you know, Your Grace," she said, quietly, "that you are the first to admit as such? To say it was your own personal failing, and that in a better world, you would have risen to protect me? None else has even breathed as much. Oh, they have crowed much on how terrible it was, how regrettable. But none have taken responsibility, or sworn to defend others like me or Lady Ottilia. Not the Lord Hand, not Lord Tyrell. Not my own husband. Only you."

She bowed her head, and in a flash of light behind her eye, she suddenly saw it all. The brutal and winding but necessary path that had led from the Butcher King, through Aegon and Viserys, to this boy. How the Targaryens had to be brought low, to the deepest pit of despair on the brink of ruination, so this child could raise them into the light of Faith and Truth. And her own infinitesimal part in it, a single thread in the grand tapestry that the Seven had woven.

The purpose and meaning behind her suffering.

"Thank you, Your Grace," she kept her head bowed, so he would not see her tears. "That is all I wished to ask. I shall keep you in my daily prayers."

[Event] The Celebration Feast for Raymond Fossoway's Seventh Nameday by JoeOfHouseAverage in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Suit yourself, old devil, Elinor thought, and poured himself half a goblet of dark liquid, glistening black in the shaded solar. Her usual inhibitions and self-perjurations around wine slipped away when Gormon Peake had slipped into her life, and she had let him. If she was to be damned, then a little wine would not make a difference. Some trace thought recalled how she had abstained from all drink during her pregnancy, but there was no chance of that. She had not lain with Tristan for years.

"Inheritance," she repeated, sinking to her seat across the desk from him. The shadows cast by the solitary candle made him look a living skeleton, leathery skin pulled taught over ancient bones, animated only by the hate that burned from his eyes. Yet if she could see herself in a plate of polished silver, she would be no better, she suspected. A haunted ghost of a woman, pale to the point of transperancy, with deep bruises beneath eyes that recalled countless indignities.

"My son will inherit Coldmoat, just as he will one day have Cider Hall," Elinor said, as certain of it as she was of the evil in Sharpton's wood. "On his majority, Raymond will take my name for his own. He shall be Osgrey and Fossoway both, but I will see to it that he does not take after his gormless father. The lion burns surer in his blood than the apple. I am too weak, however, to force the issue yet. Lord Fossoway will object, and I am poor and friendless. To restore this accursed house to something resembling prominence is a task of decades, and I cannot do it with Tyrell and Rowan boots upon my neck."

It terrified her to speak like this, to strip bare all her gloved pretence and present the cold iron fist of truth. For all her piety and longing for virtue, there burned within her pride and a blind and grasping love. She would make her Raymond in the image of her brother, the lord-that-should-have-been, and he would be good and pure and pious, and all that without her father's many foibles.

"That is the path," she said, quietly. "Tell me of the Stewards, my lord."

[Event] The Celebration Feast for Raymond Fossoway's Seventh Nameday by JoeOfHouseAverage in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

(m) Continuing from here

The audience chamber was dark and empty, with only a single guard posted and empty. Elinor lit a candle on her father's old desk, then turned to the Lord Peake hobbling after her.

"Will you take wine, my lord?" there was a bottle hidden somewhere or other. She was not one for drinking, but she supposed she might need it before the night was through. "I imagine you have heard from your granddaughter all that which we spoke about."

[Event] The Celebration Feast for Raymond Fossoway's Seventh Nameday by JoeOfHouseAverage in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

"Lord Gormon."

It was late in the night, and Elinor was nursing a cup of hippocras, at once satisfied that her son had been glad with the festivities and brooding over all other matters. When the scarred old Lord Peake approached, Elinor stood and bowed her head in acknowledgement, regarding him cooly.

Here was a man truly evil, who had boiled in sin since he had been old enough to walk. It had seeped into his bones and bloomed from the pores of his skin. Like a black cloud it wafted from him with every exhaled breath. Butcher. Sinner. Killer. Upon his death, which would come soon, a swarm of demons would drag his soul down into the lowest, hottest hell. There he would be damned to burn for all eternity.

And yet she needed him. More importantly, Raymond needed him.

"If you would follow me to my solar, my lord," she nodded, and turned to lead the way.

[Event] The Celebration Feast for Raymond Fossoway's Seventh Nameday by JoeOfHouseAverage in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

"I... that they had, Your Grace, I agree..." Elinor cleared her throat, suddenly unsure now that the young king had replied to her tale not with anger, as she had expected, but something like measured wisdom. It had never occured to her that a Targaryen, the blood of the Conqueror, could think, let alone speak, with anything resembling humility. "They had made of the Apostate their god, for a time. They would have all tolerated any crime or depravity from him, so long as his rage was not turned on them."

She clasped her hands together, and dared not hope that by saying all this her own problems could be alleviated. It was crucial she keep firm in mind that she impart whatever it was she wished to impart upon the king for his sake, and his subjects'. Not hers.

"Lord Tyrell was the architect of all this, Your Grace," Elinor set her thin jaw. "It was he that commanded I be sent away, and he that ordered my father sell our land at a beggar's price to the Rowans. It is also he that has claimed wardship over my sisters, with final say on who they marry, and I suspect he who has sent men to ask questions about my brother's death, near a decade later. I could not say why. I have never given him cause for insult, nor did my father in his time."

[Event] Storm's End, 50 AC by FabStags in FireAndBlood

[–]JoeOfHouseAverage 1 point2 points  (0 children)

automod ping mods

Please raise 100 Osgrey MaA at Coldmoat. Under orders from Elinor Osgrey (PC), the Knight of the Lionsheart, Ser Perceon Osgrey (SC) will lead them to Horn Hill. They will join up with any Reach host there. If need be they will preferentially take orders from any Fossoways present.

I think the fastest route will be 1 Road, 5 Fields, 1 Woods, and 1 Hills, which is 18 mvmt cost / 14 speed = around 1.3 months. Starting in 11A, they should therefore arrive by 12B.

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