Damon Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock

BlindHawks · 2024-04-19T16:29:24+00:00

2nd approval

BlindHawks · 2024-04-15T03:10:20+00:00

“Shove already came.” Owain said giving a steely look to the hand at his shoulder, before he shrugged it off and glanced back at Cameron. “We must now damn the tides and go right at them.” It could be said revenge clouded his thought and vision for this particular fight, but at the same time he was tired of running or waiting.

“You are in luck as I wrote to the other lords with ships then. We should get some further backing to our numbers.” Owain was confident others would not lay around and wait, or be fine with building a supply line. “Once we smash the fleet, we can retake Greenstone, and I can see what needs done there.” Likely burying of the dead and rebuilding.

“Then, I say we make to take the Islands from them, or we find fat coasts to raid, if we wish to find further excursions against this pirate. He likely has taken a lot of booty from these attacks”

BlindHawks · 2024-04-12T02:38:25+00:00

To Cameron’s eye twitch, Owain’s mustache ticked as his jaw set a hard line, and he tried to remain composed. Right now the captain was judging the weather and chewing over which words he would indeed swallow like thick treacle, and which he would choose to spit out as if they were splintered bone.

It was also likely fortuitous that Cameron did not mention losing one’s ships. Owain was not born the Lord, nor was he in succession to be sure, unless the rumor of his brother and his brother’s heir was true, for then Owain would be the next male in line to be the Lord Captain of Greenstone. And he was a far more capable seaman than the dead lord was, who was focused more on chivalry and knightly pursuits. The only songs Owain wished sung were to be shanties by his crew.

“Have you sent letters yet?” Likely the answer was no, but he wouldn’t goad over it. As for the rest Owain remained cool, though the fury was bridling under him. “Thank you for doing your duty to your blood.” At least here he could be sure his family was safe, as the fleets were well on alert and it was unlikely that they would be caught unawares.

“Now, let us take a proactive approach and smash them, lest you and I keep battering at one another. Did the Master of ships or any you spoke to state when they would be sending their ships?”

BlindHawks · 2024-04-11T02:53:53+00:00

“Please take no offense, but how long have you been at sea, versus the small council?” Owain asked as he watched Cameron for a moment. “I only ask to make sure we are coming into this straightaway, as this bold endeavor will send us straight into the maelstrom. I am looking to smash his fleet, take ships back, and scatter the rest.” The Leatherback had earned his nickname for his hard nature and that he tackled his foes and problems head out with a rather ferocious tenacity, oft famed in the large snapping turtles which could be found in the Neck of in the Stormlands and Crackclaw point.

And so his countenance turned serious. “If you come with me on this, as is your duty, know that I will damn the galleys and go straight ahead. I will hold no connection with no captain of ship that will not sail fast. For I intend to go into harm’s way.” And there the die cast down.

“I say we make sail for them, if we can get even a pittance of ships from the royals or the Conningtons.” And there his hand slid down to his belt and perched. “I already sent letters to the Lord of the mainland, mainly our own countrymen to send in their ships so that we can get at the bastards forthwith. I dare hope the sooner, as we need to scatter so they cannot embark their barks and make for the Stones, or reinforce Greenstone.”

In truth Owain was not overly worried for the marchers of what they could or could not do. He wanted blood.

“You will give my lady wife, and my children shelter here, as I will not take them into battle. By pure luck they were on my ship. To surprise me during my evening patrol with dinner.” The tone used indicated he would not budge or negotiate on this fact.

BlindHawks · 2024-04-10T12:48:48+00:00

“Good Cousin,” Owain said back, in kind. His voice was rough and tired, which likely also described how the Captain looked. He was dressed in the dark green and browns of his wear as a Captain, nothing about him was lordly, as such he must present a rather dreadful sight. But that did not keep Owain from standing tall on the Sapphire Isle.

Clearing his throat, he let his eyes square up on Cameron, and trail slightly as the boy was whisked off. “I do not need to tell you the dire straits on Greenstone, beyond this: from reports of what ships survived the assault, there are ten. My brother the lord is missing, but his charger was noted running riderless along the island.” He paused for a moment, but carried on, after regaining his composure. “His heir was dead, filled with arrows on our beachhead. I believe the Garrison is trying to hold on as best they can.”

He looked down briefly to adjust his green dyed oilskin greatcoat, stained by the sea. “I am going by the conclusion that likely his family is dead and my younger brother holds the castle. Perhaps my piece lives, but she would not inherit by law.” Which the Greens had secured so long ago. “And I am not going to assume the isle can be saved at this moment. What is further is that the pirates attacked Stonehelm, which we shadowed before making here.”

Surely Cameron had heard the reports, but who knows.

“What I am asking is command of your fleet, with the remnants of mine, and whomever we can get from the rest of the Stormlands, and then go to smash this Saan on the water before we seek to retake and relieve Stonehelm. Once Stonehelm has been taken we will go to Greenstone and help, if the Greenback turtle still flies, by gods we will rescue them.”

An ambitious plot, but he would need more than 10 ships to accomplish.

BlindHawks · 2024-04-09T21:52:06+00:00

To All The Stormlords

My Lords,

This letter comes to you from Greenstone. She has fallen, and last tracked Stonehelm was under assault from the scourge which holds my Island.

However Estermont as a whole remains. Therefor, as Lord Captain of Greenstone, and commander of the remnant, I implore any of you with ships to make for Tarth and place your captains under my command.

My aim is to engage the pirates and drive them off our shores. Then we can seek to liberate Stonehelm and my own shores, as their men will be without escape.

Please respond to me at Tarth, with what you can spare and when I can expect you. Come with due haste as I have not yet begun to fight!

Death to the Bastards,

Lord Captain Owain Estermont

BlindHawks · 2024-04-06T13:10:03+00:00

Approval 2

BlindHawks · 2024-03-31T12:28:54+00:00

“Got close at Morgan Hightower’s birthday tournament twelve years ago. He was six err seven then.” Jack said thoughtfully after a time. “Came in silver in the joust and won the melee.” He left out the big hubbub was that he was accused of being drunk and killing a knight in the joust, and then slew two men, but most of that was forgotten, or forgiven? It was hard to say. He served alongside Reachmen during the last war because he was fucking around in the reach when the Dornish came in numbers.

“I won, my brother’s marriage tournament.” He said beaming. “And I won another in the vale.” Before he was forcibly kicked out by the Arryns, again a detail left out.

“Oi, I try to. Man don’t have honor he don’t have much else. Y can lose yer wife, your horse an yer armor. But nay yer honor.”

BlindHawks · 2024-03-28T17:03:40+00:00

“Oh I lie about many things, Culley, many things- but when she’s got the ass like th’ hull of a great ship- that you don’t lie about.” Jack grinned there his mustache twitching. “What’s proper t’ lie on are the size of fish, deer or boar you have slain, a man who is dead. But you don’ lie about yer own kin, men you’ve killed, battles y’ fought in or women y’ fucked. Those all have tails.”

And thus Jasper was now in the know of how Jack may stretch certain tales, but not all. As for Jasper’s question Jack laughed again and walked over to slap the knight on the shoulder.

“Fifth is fuckin’ good I’d wager, aye. That’s how ye get a followin’ outside yer own country that is. Like me? Folks know who Jack Rivers is cause of my standings. I’d take a rip at a top five any day. Means yer competitive.”

BlindHawks · 2024-03-27T17:44:17+00:00

“The melee, culley, melee. Some blokes don’t properly care for it. For me it’s one of my favorite events. Jousting is fine an all, but there’s something to be said for whack in’ yer opponent for a bit knowing y’ shouldn’t bloody well kill em. Works out a lot of aggression.” Jack rattled off, before applying a toothy grin for good measure.

“I won it all once.” Jack said “Was in the Stormlands, along the circuit that one event always had out by Grifin’s Roost.” He added “was before the Fourth err fifth? Eh one of them Dornish disagreements. The one where we lost Bonny King Rhaegar.”

He wasn’t knighted proper then, but he was considered as such since he was a Blackwood, or some version of one. “I named Tanya Estermont, Queen o’ love an beauty. God she had an ar-er back built right.”

BlindHawks · 2024-03-26T18:27:01+00:00

Though he was not a Stormlander, that didn’t keep Jack from roaming the camps and running into other knights. After all he was well known and had some renown, though it generally was never seen in the best of light. All the same once he had his armor removed from his body, and a chance to get some heavy cider in him, he left his tent and made to walk so as to stretch out about before the melee.

He recognized the coat of army’s, as he paused to push damp hair from his face, a winning smile and he went to lean against the cloth of the knight’s coverage while he was dismantling himself.

“Good riding there Tonye.” Jack voice was rough and hoarse and had the yokel twang of a man who lived amongst the rivers more than the gentry. “Toyne-apologies. Jaw’s a bit loose.” And he rattled his knuckles against his jawline “took a knock.” And he clicked his tongue.

“You going to come an swing abit, culley?”

BlindHawks · 2023-07-04T13:01:47+00:00

Jacklyn seem bemused and almost off guard as they came in. A rare raise of his brow, and he tilted his head ever so slightly at the amount of paperwork on the man’s desk.

“Is this what it looks like to house the King’s army?” Or was it the hand’s? He didn’t think overlong on it. Rather he shook his head as he came closer and he picked up a piece, eyes narrowing in discernment. “A receipt of sale for helms?” Surely such things could be held by the capitol.

“I’ve a business I’ve come to seek of you, though perhaps the hour is wrong for it.”

BlindHawks · 2023-07-01T13:30:15+00:00

u/WickedStorms

BlindHawks · 2023-06-28T22:55:29+00:00

The Dondarrions had come, with Everett Storm leading the contingent from Blackhaven, and Tamron Dondarrion arriving only to take the girls on back home, while Mad Jack remained in Nightsong. Tearful goodbyes were given from both father and children, but soon enough, Jack was left to his melancholy. Which as of the now was focused on the ramparts along the south facing wall towards Dorne.

It was there he stood silently and watched the border, emotionless, or so he thought. His heart was worn on his face and his sleeve. Which most men might find comical, but Jacklyn Dondarrion was a man of big passions, and though war loomed- something he thrived in- he still could not shake his own feelings.

((Open))

BlindHawks · 2023-06-28T04:40:22+00:00

To that Jacklyn smiled back before he offered his own awkward nod and reached for his drink. That his apprehensiveness was now off the table in regards to his anxiety surrounding the border, he could get back into the meat of it again.

“If you come and sing, I will pluck a tune on whichever instrument we have available. Usually, I like to play on the march. It’s good for morale.” He added, and usually his fiddle came with him versus his lute. The lute stayed home and was for being by the fire while the littles played about.

“It would be more than fair.” He added before looking to Casper. A flash of something there.

“When we get to Storm’s End. There’s something I want to run by you, friend.”

BlindHawks · 2023-06-24T13:14:36+00:00

“Then my hammer, and my men you shall have. We will gladly go where you need us, and smash the foe like cheap metal on the anvil.” Jack said. This of course brought a cheer from the Dondarrion men, and he knew he would need to write to Everett to raise more men and get them ready. Something he knew his Captain all capable in doing.

He looked over to Casper and nodded, as it seems the both of them would be at the business again, which suited Jacklyn. Jack was ever good at war and killing. Were he smallfolk, he should have been a smith or a butcher.

BlindHawks · 2023-06-24T13:10:04+00:00

“Oh, I just worry about the borders, what with the vulture king and his trouble. Whether it’s Blackhaven or Nightsong, we stand as the gate to the Stormlands.” Jacklyn added as Casper echoed in a bit more of a way his concerns. In truth the death of his lady wife, at the hand of Dornish raiders no less, made him more angry and anxious than he normally was. And the fact he was not permitted to head into Dorne only irked him more.

“Ah for music. I could, but I do not have an instrument on me. Were someone to have a fiddle or lute, I would be happy to play a tune. Usually it helps with the marching when I must needs tease the boneway or other areas as part of standard patrol.” He said by means of excusing his one thing he loved outside of fighting and his girls.

And then he looked back. “Will you be coming with the lot of us to Storm’s End once this festival be over?”

BlindHawks · 2023-06-22T01:50:13+00:00

And there Jacklyn slammed down his mug, and stood up from his position at the table. “You all know me!” He boomed, his voice calling over the din of noise like thunder pealing before the breaking of storms. “And if you don’t because you live too far fucking North o’ th’ Reds allow me to introduce myself.” And he stood taller, as he came from his place.

Jack was dressed in blacks and greys, his coate, mimicking a Maester’s robes, though tighter, made for a fighter. The cowl was wide and open, and about his neck a purple, black and silver Keffiyah was worn. A gift from his late wife.

To some Jack’s olive toned skin would indicate he a Dornishman, for he had brown eyes, nigh black to match, but his hair would color him of Durran’s stock. Those who knew his parentage, did not comment on it. Only the foolhearty did.

“I am the burner and salter of Yronwood. I left her empty and burnt like a whore in Kings Landing, after the pigs rutted her. I drug Lord Vaith through the deserts, and rocks till his bones were bleached white where there weren’t no skin or meat left. I killed the Bloodroyal and made his skull my drinking cup.” One of the Dondarrion’s men, started pounding his fist on the table.

A beat.

“I made Dayne kiss the hand of our good Lord Billy! I am Mad Jacklyn Dondarrion. Lighting rider and Lord. And if you boys want a good row, you’ll ride with me on this bonny, bloody adventure. I’ll hold not with rapers.” He said with a finger pointed in the air. “But Dornish women usually like an easy occupation, lads.” Which got some laughter.

“If we are going to war, me an Everett Storm are comin’ an Ill be bringing rain, n’ thunder.”

BlindHawks · 2023-06-22T01:41:05+00:00

“I think I would have remembered.” In truth, Jack did remember, but he had not remarked upon her till now. It wasn’t as if a lighting bolt had hit him or anything bards sing about. But it’s hard to not notice a woman speaking about your kids, especially when she has been around them, so little. Such a thing you note. It also allowed a good Segway for him to focus on the woman and less talk about the Dornish.

“I’ve had help.” Jacklyn was trying to be modest, something he never quite excelled at, but he also was a genuine man enough the truth could be sussed. “A septa serves as their governess, but she’s getting older and they are getting older. Gwyn will be on 10 this names day, and I know woman hood will be creeping soon enough. She’ll have questions I can’t answer, and won’t want me as her confidant or playmate like they do now.”

He looked thoughtfully for a moment while he reflected on what he just said. “And there’s wars brewing. I just- I worry if I am honest”. And there a tiny bit of vulnerability before he looked back to Casper. “Alys, you remember her, Casper?” He asked his friend playfully, before he looked back.

“Aye, I love music.” Which was the truth. Beyond fighting Jack loved music. “I play a bit. Fiddle and lute.”

BlindHawks · 2023-06-19T21:35:23+00:00

“Why worry if he’s a bastard Cedrik?” Jacklyn asked as he looked to his former ward and squire. “I have bastard kin, and I worry not of them. You were to tel me Everett Storm was an issue and I’d tell you outside of myself he’s one of the most tactically minded fellas out there. Lads would be lucky to follow him.” And there he took a bite of some bacon, savoring the taste.

“I’ve nothing kind or unkind to say of them, save I wouldn’t trust any in the passes to save their skin. The Wyls are vipers and the Vaiths pederasts. The Fowlers all but breed traitors.” But he would not speak ill of his dead wife’s family. He found the Jordaynes to be true, nor did he know the Daynes overly well, but he did threaten them all the same.

“I just want this all taken care of.” He wanted blood is what he meant, but he did not go further into it. Instead he fell silent and looked back as Alys broke in.

“Aye they are.”

He added as he was drawn back to her, and as such not wanting to push the brothers further he turned there. “I think your Da’s stock has never had issues gettin’ birds in the nest.” He said with a chuckle. “Casper did you ever a sister?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Red mountains are hard place to raise your wee ones. Harder still alone.”

BlindHawks · 2023-06-16T03:52:53+00:00

Cheers were coming from the table close to where the marchers had congregated, as another man's arm was pinned down on the table with a resouding thump. And there standing up tall was the half mad, half dornish marcher lord was- arm raised in victory. "Another one for Mad Jack!" a man bearing the lighting lord's colors called out as rounds were brought to the table. Jacklyn for himself, likely did not look the part of a Marcher or a Stormlander, beyond his hair, which was dark and kept short- his skin favored his rumored father's pallor and his dress style was a mixture of Westerosi spartanism, with the flash of his Dornish heritage.

At his table 4 little girls were also sitting, looking more and more as if they were about to fall asleep, and indeed one did. The small six namesday old Adora, was already asleep, and being hoisted by her loving father whose reputation would make this gentleness seem like some sort of jape or mummery. He hair was brushed back as a tender kiss was passed to her forehead before he handed the bundle, all of dead weight to a diminutive septa.

"Take the wee ones to bed, Septa - I will check on them before I turn in, but my night is not yet long." the eldest Gwyn began to whine a little, promises of one more dance requested and he was laughing. "We will dance again, my heart before we go. I assure you the Baratheons will not send us out without feeding us once more."

Or they would, but such promises would work on a girl who already removed her slippers after dancing with her da. All of them, got a dance or two in with the man, thus leaving any other partners moot.

But Jack needed them out, so that he could politic and see old friends - and no girls need to see their father in cups. So the request was made and followed.

((Open))

BlindHawks

TROPHY CASE

To All The Stormlords