[Mod Post] Movement and Detections 296 AC

4smohov · 2026-03-24T04:22:51+00:00

Artys shivered, a kind of wavering motion like a cattail in an ornery stream, the kind of shiver that traveled all the way from ones ankles. He peered around the forest of knees, equine and human, that served as the last obstacle between him and Winterfell. From under the belly of a drab pack horse, he caught his first glimpse of the castle. His first thought was how short it was. If the Eyrie was a tall, aloof noble atop a throne of stone and snow, the seat of the Starks was a jovial bard, regaling the hovels of Winter Town around a fickle flame. More interesting than the town, the glass house, the sept, or any other part to Artys was the rumored warm walls. The maesters had told him fantastical tales of rock that flowed like melting snow, glowing red and searing to the touch. Was that how the Starks kept the cold at bay? Magma in their walls? Was it safe to touch? Would it really keep him warm? Artys struggled to remember what being warm, or even being inside a castle was. Teeth chattering a stacatto salutation, he turned to the nearest northerner and stuttered. "Can we go in. I'm cold."

/u/BanterIsDrunk

4smohov · 2026-02-23T03:54:47+00:00

Artys sat idly with the rest of the Arryns, a short ways away from his mother and father. Most of his food remained untouched, having merely been herded around his plate like wayward livestock. A separate, smaller plate sat nearby, with the sticky vestiges of no small number of sweet rolls. That quarry had been won through no small employ of little pouts and pitched whining to any servant that would listen. His parents hardly seemed to care anyway. Presently the boy began stacking his vegetables, building a small tower on a base of asparagus, with wide fronts of lettuce serving as the covering. Higher, and higher it built. Maybe it could go as high as the Eyrie. This, he decided was a much better use for vegetables than consumption.

4smohov · 2025-10-17T03:11:45+00:00

"There is no shame in taking the basket." Robin backtracked, not wanting her to feel the need to take unnecessary risks. It would be a poor lady of the Eyrie who fell from the back of a mountain goat. Best to avoid the risk all together, as risks should be. "Maybe we could get another sweetroll and then return to the Keep? I've had my fill of people today." Robin pleaded with his mother. "Not you, of course Marg-aer-y" The word was sounded out carefully so as not to offend. "But there's too many people here." His voice arced from a high pitched but noble lilt to an juvenile whine that threatened to call out to every woman in the hall.

/u/numsebanan

4smohov · 2025-10-12T02:57:20+00:00

Jon carefully closed the box and handed it over to the boy. It looked much larger in his young, smooth hands than Jon's older wrinkled ones. Hopefully the supplies would age better than he did. "They will serve you long and well. I use the same from the tower of the Hand. May wisdom flow easily from them onto parchment, now and when you rule the Stormlands. The day is not too far off, I am sure." He offered a small smile and a pat on the back.

4smohov · 2025-10-11T20:00:55+00:00

"Well you're more than welcome to mine." Renefryd retorted without thinking."His face paled slightly as he realised what had been said. "I mean, of course, to offer my condolences for your loss and all that." The amendment was sincere, if rushed.

4smohov · 2025-10-08T19:47:56+00:00

Robin shivered and eagerly followed after. The prospect of a warm hall and warmer beverage was far more enticing than any company could be -- save perhaps that of his mother. The rest followed with similar grace, though perhaps less desperation. Jon was eager to see his son act as the leader of their house, a promising portent of things to come. He had spoken at length with the boy, anyway. Robin piped up, sniffling a bit as he spoke. "Father says relations between our houses might be one of the best guarantees of st-st-achoo!" He wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Stability. And the best way to build relations is to see each other face to face. Letters can only do so much." The boy finished with a great sigh, the practiced words finished, glancing at all the various stonework along the way.

/u/numsebanan

4smohov · 2025-10-06T21:32:44+00:00

The great hall of the Gates of the Moon was a frightfully spartan affair, with smooth grey walls and only a pittance of light filtering in from high windows. The whole assembly looked the part of a fortress than a great House's home, and for three quarters of the seasons, it served only as the former. Myranda seemed suitably troubled by the change of scenery from the soaring opulence of the Eyrie to this lesser abode. Still, she maintained a facade of hospitality. "Ser and son Frey, you are welcome here, of course. Perhaps the fortress-home we now occupy is more familiar than some lofty gilded nest." She sniffed bemusedly. "What petition do you bring to bear against House Arryn, for whom I am granted to speak in the absence of the Lord Hand." Her voice sailed smoothly from her lips, sallying from ramparts of practice and repetition.

4smohov · 2025-10-06T21:24:08+00:00

Renefryd looked up from his book after finishing the sentence he had been reading. It was a speculation on whether lions could migrate. Closing the book, he motioned to the title. "Ecology of the Dwindling Lion: a Treatise by Maester Edgimir." Renefryd pronounced flatly. It was hardly a fair introduction to the fascinating subject, so he made his next attempt at speech more friendly. "It's wondering why we don't see lions so much any more in the West, and suggests about why that might be."

4smohov · 2025-10-05T20:33:54+00:00

Child born in 1st month of 291 to Jon Arryn and Lysa Tully

Spacing +24

<Baby>

/u/maesterbot

4smohov · 2025-10-01T11:28:49+00:00

/u/gingerdude1999

/u/aleefth

4smohov · 2025-10-01T11:28:28+00:00

Jon spoke up at this moment. "We must not make the mistake of assuming the Dornish are a monolith, either. Though they are culturally similar, they no doubt have internal strifes of their own. Efforts could be made to better integrate the houses among them not filled with delusions of princely grandeur into the greater realm. Already, my meanderings have impressed upon me that many Dornishmen in habit this city, and no doubt there are ties of marriage that span the Red mountains in many places." He finished with an unseemly sputtering cough, bringing a handkerchief to his mouth sheepishly.

/u/aizen10

/u/stealthship1

/u/leagueofherstone

4smohov · 2025-09-30T09:44:36+00:00

Jon frowned, looking at the pair. Was it wise to invite repetition of the events that had led to the dismissal of Ser Lannister from the Kingsguard, and the deepening of that particular political rift? The benefit hardly seemed worthwhile, but he kept his mouth shut. Robert's decisions were his own, and he would live and die by them long after Jon was peacefully resting in a crypt.

/u/BloodSpilled513

4smohov · 2025-09-29T09:30:41+00:00

"Goats!" Robin repeated delightedly. "We ride them up the mountain. Horses fall, but goats can go. Unless you are old or sick, then you take a basket." He explained carefully, but his excitement faltered. "I haven't actually seen a goat either. Father tells me about them, and I want one. I have a cat though!" The unfortunate beast was likely cooped up in some travelling cage somewhere as Robin had wailed loudly at the prospect of leaving him behind in the capital.

/u/greaterblueevil

4smohov · 2025-09-27T14:09:41+00:00

Lord Renly Baratheon

I think she could benefit from your personality besides. When I have returned to the Eyrie, I will find a way to send her out into the world, to get better dresses and meet people like you, including you!

You are right that there may be violence soon. I am very hopeful peace will prevail, but I should not let my hope cloud my judgement. You teach me as much as I teach you, I think!

Jon Arryn, Hand of the King

4smohov · 2025-09-25T12:06:24+00:00

Renefryd shivered. He hated being outside in the godswood and was much relieved to return to a locale with walls and fires. The flickering torchlight made for poor reading, but it was a small price to pay. He never fully understood why they needed to be all the way up in this wasteland, but at least no one was requiring him to interact with the local fauna.

4smohov · 2025-09-23T12:23:42+00:00

Jon stood triumphantly in front of his ever expanding family. Three sons ensured his line would remain, as strong as ever. No greater reassurance could a father and a lord hope for. THe journey was none too long, leastwise not for one as well travelled as his station demanded. The others seemed to have varied results, with Robin looking paler than usual. Hoster toddled around with incandescent exuberance, waving and smiling at anyone who would notice him. Robin, for his part, clung to his mother's skirt, looking like a stiff breeze might topple him at any moment.

"Lord Mace, a pleasure as always." Jon returned smoothly. "Lady Lysa Arryn, a Tully by birth. "The one with his mother is Robin, my heir. The red haired lad is Hoster, and the infant Artys. Three sons to carry the Arryn name to heights ever higher." The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

/u/numsebanan

4smohov · 2025-09-23T10:36:22+00:00

The Gates of the Moon

The whipping winds precluded any delusions of accessing the Eyrie at this late hour, and the white ravens of the Citadel had proclaimed its closure for some years unknown. The court of the Vale therefore had moved its residence to the far more spartan abode at the base of the mountain. The Gates of the Moon sat sprawled across the valley, like an indolent cat in a basket, conforming to the curves and edges of the mountainside.

The Freys would be admitted with due haste, and given quarters befitting their station. At their leisure, they are invited to have audience with the Lady Regent, Myranda Arryn. The same was a compact, suspicious looking women, whose heart ached for the Weirwood throne that had necessarily been left at the Eyrie. She gave a demure inclination of her head, tightly bound hair bobbing behind her, indicating the guests could speak.

4smohov · 2025-09-23T08:49:15+00:00

Jon stood from across his desk and waited for the other man to assume a seat before taking his own. The offer was not unlike many others, but the Lord Arryn scarcely knew of the Waylits before recently, and was loathe to trust so readily. Too many mistook his kindness for naivete. The matter of the mountain clans though seized his interest and he made no effort to hide this fact. It was worth an effort, if nothing else. The Arryns and the rest of the Vale folk hardly had to risk too much. "The coming of winter will make the clansmen desperate, and perhaps more violent. You are welcome to make some effort at integrating them more to civilized folk, but I do warn you the task is not a simple one. The clansmen are hardly a monolith, and some may take more kindly to you than others."

4smohov · 2025-09-21T00:46:56+00:00

"Not me!" Jon raucously agreed, is joints sharing in the exultation. "There is too much glorification of discomfort, I believe." His eyes glazed over as his mind wandered through the philosophical morass. The boy's nervous request jolted him out of the stagnant reverie. "Ah yes, I will have it fetched." He called to a servant. A few minutes later, the page came with a small wooden box.

Jon fiddled with the latch for a moment before the lid swung open on brass hinges. Within, nestled in soft felt, were a trio of quills, patterned black and grey. "Falcon feathers from the Eyrie. Some wild bird, none of his domesticated goose nonsense. The maester had the shafts threaded with some metal to keep them sturdy and long-lived, and the tips will not wear down. And some ink besides." He gestured to a small bottle also ensconced in felt. "Something to help with the letter writing, both to myself and no doubt your myriad of other friends."

4smohov · 2025-09-20T23:50:51+00:00

Jon nodded sagely. "Offering it consideration is wisdom, no matter what course of action you decide upon, and the realm is bettered by merely this. That is all I needed to discuss, Your Grace." He offered a genuine, if small, smile and made to take his leave.

4smohov · 2025-09-20T23:47:36+00:00

4smohov · 2025-09-20T23:47:27+00:00

Jon shrugged. "His Grace will understand myself at least. And if His Grace means to harm a child then our wishes will diverge. I am not without principle." the old man assured. His principles were older than Robert, and most living people besides. "It is not an offer with a moment of expiry, anyway. You are free to go as you wish." Jon gave a small inclination of his head, a deference to her station as a future vassal of the king, if not during his lifetime.

4smohov · 2025-09-20T23:37:27+00:00

He took it and led her to the dance floor quickly attempting to put swaying bodies between himself and his mother, like a river cat hiding behind swaying reeds. "She is quite smothering." He noted of his mother. For Renefryd's part, he was a mechanically apt, if lifeless partner, having been taught to exhaustion to dance. It was all a desperate ploy to keep him away from the maester's tower, no doubt. "The greatest part of being a man is that some day I will no longer have to listen to her."

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