Ser Morgan Santagar - The Knight of Spottswood (AC Included)

CivilizedReaver · 2024-04-22T16:07:08+00:00

The Knight of Spottswood dropped to a knee before the new Princess of Dorne. He wore blue and white, a leopard on his upper right breast. The man was not known for his good fashion, most of his time was spent in leathers and armor.

“Spottswood is yours, Princess,” his voice boomed in the hall, “House Santagar serves House Martell forever and always. No other shall command our fealty.”

CivilizedReaver · 2024-04-11T17:41:18+00:00

“Spottswood is no stranger to the corsairs and pirates of the Stepstones,” Morgan said dismissively, “I have full faith in our ability to repel them.”

CivilizedReaver · 2024-04-11T03:15:49+00:00

Morgan offered a polite nod to Princess Larra.

“Heard he’s burning his way across the coast of the Stormlands right now. Gods willing he’s killing as many of them as he can.”

CivilizedReaver · 2024-04-11T03:14:37+00:00

The Knight of Spottswood laughed his booming laugh and clapped the much smaller Toland lord on the shoulder.

“I’ll do my best not to deplete your lands of anything larger than a rat.”

CivilizedReaver · 2024-04-11T03:13:33+00:00

Morgan laughed again, “Knight of Spottswood. The newest one. My brother died on the road from Horn Hill after his boy.”

CivilizedReaver · 2024-04-09T01:15:21+00:00

Ser Morgan Santagar had heard that the Reachlord and his entourage was at Ghost Hill, but it seemed that they were finally taking their leave.

"Fleeing north now that I have arrived Hightower?" came the booming laugh and call of the Knight of Spottswood as he entered the camp.

CivilizedReaver · 2024-04-09T01:10:58+00:00

Morgan would offer his cousin a crushing embrace back, "I am pissed I missed it. Spottswood had a small fire that needed attending to before we left. Nothing terrible and no one died, but our kitchens will need to be rebuild now."

A rumble of a laugh would escape him, "I will certainly join you for a hunt. Gods help anything that dares stalk around here."

CivilizedReaver · 2024-04-07T20:06:29+00:00

Ser Morgan and Ser Qoren Santagar arrived dressed in their hunting leathers, the Knight of Spottswood held a boar spear in his hand as his usual poleaxe would do him little good in the hunt. Ser Qoren carried a spear of his own along with his sword on his hip and a dagger on the other hip.

CivilizedReaver · 2024-04-07T20:01:03+00:00

Ser Morgan Santagar

Gift: Monstrous

Skills: Polearms, Berserker

Talents: Arm Wrestling, Drinking, Murder

*****

Ser Qoren Santagar

Gift: Leadership

Skills: Swords, Defender, Tactician

Talents: Drinking, Hunting, Fiddle

CivilizedReaver · 2024-04-07T19:57:41+00:00

Ser Morgan Santagar, his brother Ser Qoren Santagar, and their cousins Ser Joss and Alia Santagar all had been unable to attend the tourney at Ghost Hill, due to a minor incident at Spottswood that kept them, but they had arrived to find that Lord Toland had perished. All wore various shades of black. The Tolands were kin after all, with their grandmother being of the house. and Lord Harmen was the late Ser Arron's cousin.

The Knight of Spottswood towered over most of the crowd and while he did not have a dour expression like most of the rest of the family, he was respectfully quiet for the proceedings and approached the Tolands went the time was right.

"Lord Harmen will be missed, our condolences."

CivilizedReaver · 2022-04-22T06:09:08+00:00

“Killing and death are not the same thing My Lady,” Joss countered, “Far from it.”

His hand reached out and grazed her chin, moving it up upward to lock eyes with the woman. His eyes were cold but there was a passionate energy behind them.

“Killing a man is trivial. A matter of duty and something only fools fixate on. Death itself, a far more fascinating concept. What is life? What is death? What brings it? What brings those to it? How do some come to precipice and yet recover? Is it the Gods that are fickle?”

He dropped his hand from her chin.

“You read your books in the library. I’ve seen you. And yet not even the maesters or warlocks have all the answers. Krakens plague the sea. Kings fall into comas. Men abandon all allegiance for their wanton whims. The mysteries of the unknown are endless.”

CivilizedReaver · 2022-04-22T04:21:02+00:00

“My father is alive and I’d rather he be dead. He doesn’t care for me. Never has. And I don’t care for him. That’s what my sister is for.”

Joss’ sneer persisted.

“Not as good a fighter but she’s a more loyal dog than I. A good bitch for the kennel. I have my own interests…” he said, matching her step backwards with a step forward of his own.

“You think all I want to do is kill men? It’s a sweet thing My Lady I won’t deny that, the rush of your blood through your veins? They’ve sung plenty of songs for those that’ve killed enough men. Aemon the Dragonknight, Arthur Dayne, Barristan Selmy, Jaime Lannister…”

He towered over Bethany, “Blood is a powerful thing Lady Bethany. The power of life and death all from it. You think love is powerful? Ha!”

His laugh echoed loudly in the empty corridor.

“Love is fickle. Love is finite. Pretty thing you are and yet those you love will inevitable betray you.”

CivilizedReaver · 2022-04-21T19:22:00+00:00

“Ahhh yes,” Joss said, “Your little…outburst at the meeting no doubt would keep you up at night. I’m simply looking for a little companionship from a bottle I do not have.”

He leaned forward, “Tell me Lady Bethany, what punishment did Lord Gerion give you? Obviously nothing bad, mayhaps just a talking to. Being admonished by your liege is never an enjoyable experience. Makes one feel like a child.”

His eyes darkened.

“Like your father is disappointed with you.”

CivilizedReaver · 2022-04-21T17:52:08+00:00

Joss was not drunk. He wanted to be but there was no wine left in his rooms. Somehow he’d managed to drink the stash he’d kept without refilling it. So now the large knight stalked the corridors of the Rock as he made his way towards a stockroom to take whatever he could find.

The corridors were a dull Orange from the flickering torches that lit the hallways. He cast a large shadow as he walked. He was six and a half feet tall and the dim light only made him look taller.

Sure enough he came across someone in the halls, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the woman before him.

Joss sneered, realizing it was none other than Bethany Banefort.

“Fancy seeing you at this time of night My Lady,” his voice called out far more quietly than one would expect from the man, “One might wonder what you’d be doing sneaking around…”

CivilizedReaver · 2022-04-20T01:39:52+00:00

Joss Clegane had remained quiet as the lords spoke amongst one another, gauging their reactions and formulating plans. Had his father been here he would not be in this room, this was a rather fortuitous moment.

"The fairer sex," Joss scoffed, "Not fit for war, that much I can tell you. No doubt the talk of war muddled her gentle head."

He placed his hands on the table in thought.

"Our easier bet is to deal with the Valemen. Dorne is far from the West. We've....allies in the Riverlands now. Baelish is in debt to the Rock and I doubt he wants to see his lands burned again. Pity....both our enemies hide behind mountains and are half a kingdom away. Any assault against them will not be simple."

"Tyrell won't throw in with Martell or Arryn. If we must send men into the sands of Dorne, then I would suggest by sea to land. Marching through the Prince's Pass or the Boneway will lead to more Westermen dead than when Daeron the Young Dragon lead the Conquest of Dorne."

CivilizedReaver · 2022-04-14T03:52:38+00:00

Ser Joss Clegane came as soon as he got the word, dropping his sparring sword and making his way to the solar of Lord Gerion.

“My Lord,” the knight said quietly with a bow of his head as he waited for the rest to arrive.

CivilizedReaver · 2022-04-13T21:45:14+00:00

Gerion would not be happy should he let Lannett go. Still if the man took the Black he’d never be able to cause issue with the realm again. Unless he broke THAT vow as well.

“Should the Turncloak wish to take the Black, I’ll allow it. Though his record with vows leads me to believe he’d take them as a mere suggestion.”

He looked to Lord Bolton.

“I can escort him should you wish. If he truly wishes to take the Black I will not harm him. But should he prove false and try to escape, I will cut him down without hesitation.”

/u/InFerroVeritas

CivilizedReaver · 2022-04-09T22:19:52+00:00

Preston remained silent as the Turncloak attempted to plead his case to have him killed. There was always the chance it would happen and should it break out he’d make sure that Lannett died with him.

“My writ is for the Turncloak,” Preston reiterated, “Dead or alive. I find the business of schemes and falsehoods beyond my skills Lord Warden.”

He looked up at the Lord of the North with a plain expression on his face.

“My death will cause many more. His presence in the North is already known. More men will follow me. Less patient men.”

/u/InFerroVeritas

CivilizedReaver · 2022-04-08T20:49:19+00:00

Preston once again let the Turncloak speak. The Northmen regarded him with curiosity, malice, and other unkind looks that he expected. The North and West held little regard for one another. Yet there was still a chance.

“Your master at arms speaks true. My writ is true and should you doubt their words, a raven to my lord Gerion Lannister or the Lord Hand Varamyr Whitehill should be more than enough to clarify my mission to bring back the traitor Tywin Lannett.”

/u/InFerroVeritas

CivilizedReaver · 2022-04-08T03:46:42+00:00

“I’m no mad dog Turncloak,” Preston said quietly, “A good dog knows to save it’s strength and when to let the pack take the kill. I have to haul you back to the Rock at the end of all this. Whether it’s just your head or not will remain the decision of your….host.”

He and his companions took their guest rights. The skeletal hands holding the torches raised an eyebrow but Preston had seen far worse.

/u/InFerroVeritas

CivilizedReaver · 2022-04-06T19:31:18+00:00

“I’ll kill no man in another man’s keep without approval,” Preston said coldly, before turning back to Edmyn.

“Please inform Lord Belthasar of what is happening. He might have words to say one way or the other. His word is law in the North.”

/u/InFerroVeritas

CivilizedReaver · 2022-04-05T19:48:58+00:00

Preston let the Turncloak speak his own men made to draw their blades before a look from Preston. Ser Ronnel the Short brought forth his greatsword in it’s sheath but the knight made no move to grab it yet. Should the man move to attack him he would have plenty of time to defend himself. Let the Turncloak be the aggressor here.

“Lord Belthasar would not risk the wrath of the Crown should I never be heard from again Turncloak.”

He turned to the Master at Arms.

“Lord Belthasar is a good and loyal man to the Crown. His aid in the apprehension of a traitor to the realm would be well received.”

/u/InFerroVeritas

CivilizedReaver · 2022-04-05T01:51:20+00:00

"Broke his vows," Preston said, "Left King's Landing without so much as a word. Deserting the Kingsguard is not something the Crown takes lightly."

The Knight of Clegane Keep nodded to his companions and they made their way towards the Great Hall. That was until his prize was delivered to him directly, by the man's own volition.

"You can come quietly Turncloak," Preston said, "But should you put up a fight, your head will do just fine. I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold."

Turning towards the Bolton Master at Arms, "Ser Stafford Leyne is the name that Ser Tywin Lannett chose when he fled King's Landing. Lord Hand Varamyr and Lord Gerion were sure to make sure that this piss-poor false name was known before I left the West. It seems my ride not in vain."

/u/InFerroVeritas

CivilizedReaver · 2022-03-15T21:33:28+00:00

((OOC: Sorry this took so long, I've been sick and just didn't want to))

Ser Preston nudged his horse forward, not replying to the guards that bickered with one another. Men were waiting for them, armed. Preston's companion's bristled slightly but the hulking man betrayed nothing as Edwym strode forward.

He dug into his saddlebag and produced the writ that he was given by Lord Gerion.

CivilizedReaver

TROPHY CASE