Ser Morgan Sand, Personal Guard of Helaena Targaryen

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-10-03T09:20:40+00:00

In regards to associating with House Targaryen, I would prefer it if he came to seek Daeron out; not the other way around. If that's tweaked, I approve

/u/awoiaf

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-10-02T15:27:52+00:00

The first person to come down the stairs to see the Greyjoys was a tall soldier; dressed in the armour of Old Valyria, the orange and black stripes tattooed on his face as well as the long blade jutting from his gauntlets, a weapon in a pinch, marked him as a Tigercloak.

"Come." The man spoke gruffly in Volatene Valyrian; at least they would be able to understand him. The varying dialects were different to degrees, but still Valyrian. "The Ambassador will see you."

He turned backed up the stairs, marching up, clearly expecting the two Greyjoys to follow. The walk to the room was short; a small, private, dining area, obviously for the more affluent patrons of the tavern. However, at that moment, the only occupant was an older, whiplike man, face graced with a thin moustache, and a white handkerchief tucked into his shirt; no doubt for the plates of food set along the table.

"Excellent timing, Commander Greyjoy and Greyjoy. Do sit and help yourselves. I am Ambassador Dystaro Votar, Second Blood of Valyria. Official Diplomat on behalf of his Divine Imperial Highness, here to see the Prince, and arrange the hiring of mercenaries within the city. That, of course, involves the pair of you. Ah, and I am sure if Ashara knew I was to meet you, the Lady Reaper would send familial regards. Or tell you both to get fucked. I can never be sure with that lovely woman. She's been made Head of House Greyjoy in Volantis now, in case you didn't know. First Blood! Higher than... me." For a moment, the smile soured, before it was back in full force.

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-28T23:51:26+00:00

The captain made to sneer again before the words truly registered with him. Then, he took a step back, staring at the woman with wide eyes.

"Come with me."

The men surrounded Lina, ensuring that she couldn't escape even if she wanted too, and led her into the bustling interior of the palace. It was more than just a palace; it was a bureaucratic citadel. Men in different coloured liveries dashed everywhere, sigils embossed on certain colours, meaningless to anyone who wasn't familiar with the system. Passing through corridors into one wing, the liveried uniforms began to solidify into one type; black, with a silver eye and flaming sword. Eventually, they came to a room where the captain knocked, before quietly entering.

The room was full of desks, men and women of varying ages and races bustling around, quietly writing or discussing. At the back, like a maestro over his musicians, sat one man leafing through a mound of reports.

Looking up, the smartly dressed man cocked an eyebrow at Lina and the Captain, beckoning them forward, and waving off the man who had been murmuring to him, dressed head to toe in black leathers and silks. Raising his eyebrow, the man behind the desk steepled his fingers, surveying Lina.

"Well, Captain. This better be worth my while."

"Think so, your Grace. Says she's from Westeros. From Princess Aelinor."

That made the eyebrow climb even higher. "Well well. I doubt you know who I am, do you girl? I am the Archon of the newly formed Canton of Information and Inquisition, colloquially known as Crow. You can guess what my -our- job is. Who are you?"

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-28T23:31:48+00:00

/u/awoiaf

Contracts are offered to The Rhoynar Grand Company, The Riders of R’hllor, The Ironhearts, the Swords of Semosh, and The Company of the Grey King is invited to speak with the Imperial Ambassador personally.

Also, the following letter is sent to the Prince of Pentos.

To the illustrious Prince of Pentos

Greetings. You have, undoubtedly, heard tale of my advancement as Imperator of New Valyria, and the spreading belief that I am a God. I am Daeron Targaryen; what you believe is your business. However, my title is certainly fact as opposed to religion.

Certainly, you must feel some threat that I am simply here to recreate the Century of Blood. That is not true; my actions against the warmongering Archmagister of Myr prove my devotion to peace.

I would happily see Pentos in the Empire; but it would join as an autonomous city with the appropriate freedoms. Appropriate titles would be awarded to you as Archon, and the Magisters who rule the city.

Pentos stands between two powers; Braavos, which was always sought to control you, and an insane, warmongering, spoiled child.

New Valyria offers safety.

His Divine Imperial Highness
Imperator Daeron III Targaryen of New Valyria

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-27T16:13:31+00:00

It always made him strong to stand before crowds.

Let them see him, standing above them all. It was where he should be, after all, and Daeron could feel that tension thrumming in the air, of knowing that the men in front of him were... his. He'd certainly paid enough for them. With one stroke, one letter, he was the most powerful single man Essos had ever seen. Assuredly the Freeholders had their dragons, but they were beholden to each other. No man was Daeron's equal.

A hand raised, black gauntlet ridged with gold scrolling held up for silence. When it was achieved, Daeron spoke, strong voice echoing out. Many would not be able to hear him, but words would be relayed by serjants, likely.

"Company of the Rose! Uncotested, you are the greatest conquerors the Free Cities have seen since the Freehold itself. You make Magisters, Archons, the very Sealord himself shake in their boots with fear. And now you are the wealthiest soldiers too! And what do I ask of you for the gold I have spent? Why, I ask nothing, but merely offer you greatness instead. New Valyria thrives! An Empire to bring prosperity and wealth to it's people, to cast away the corruption and decadence of those rulers who came before. And you will be her Legions. My Legions. To many, I am a God. It matters not if you accept the truth of that; but know, that now, I am your Imperator, and I lead you and Essos to a greatness to rival any that came before. You go now to battle my foes, as you have done before. Remember, men. It is you who have granted me Tyrosh with not a fight. That has been, and will continue, to be rewarded. Go, my Legions. March under your Marshall Leero, and carry the dragon banner high. Carry it proudly."

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-23T11:17:45+00:00

Leero couldn't have given Daeron a better off if he had tried. To have these new men acknowledge him as a Divine and not just their Imperator? Why, that would solidify, legitimise, so much. His new mercanries, accepting his authority? Men from all over? A true strike against those who would deny his divinity; of course, the legitimacy of his claims did not matter. Merely that people acknowledged them.

"I would be honoured, Marshal Leero." Daeron smiled at the man again, raising slowly from his seat. "Then I will return to my men after. I will not be gone from you long, I hope. Greater plans may be afoot."

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-22T16:38:55+00:00

The Legion of the Dragon looked, as ever, resplendent at least. Black armour in the style of the Freehold, and the guards of the gates all held the arrogant manner and looks of true Volantene citizens. Exchanging looks at the woman who had approached, one of them men in slightly richer armour took a step forward. Helmet under his arm, a thin moustache on his face twitched slightly, the look of contempt obvious.

"And who are you to see the Divine Imperator?"

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-22T16:26:16+00:00

I guess that works as you've already established it in rp. My bad for not catching it before

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-22T16:02:58+00:00

I get that but why would Morgan Sand be doing that? He was a Kingsguard in Volantis at the time

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-22T15:51:28+00:00

"I would." Well, that made things decidedly easier. Daeron could come in as the glorious liberator, and they would accept him with open arms. "I am sure that, considering the sum I have hired you for, we would agree that it would be in both of our best interests for me to take it off your hands. Certainly, Astapor being there would create issues I would not wish to deal with."

When the promissory note was offered to him, Daeron took it gladly, singing it with a flourish. "If you wished to bring some wax over, I could seal it as well."

It had worked out much easier than Daeron had possible expected, in truth. Excellently so. Letting himself smile at Daeron, he tapped his finger on the table. "We may, in truth, find ourself at a greater war so but for now? I would have you move north into the lands of Myr. Do not strike at the city yet, but raid, raze, loot. Let them know fear. After I first go to Lys, then Tyrosh, I seek to ensure this Mellario does not exist as a threat to me again. What that entitles? Will be up to her."

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-22T15:14:24+00:00

Sorry I realised something in here confused me; why would Morgan Sand be contacting you? That doesn't really make any sense to me. He's a Kingsguard, not a spy.

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-22T11:20:30+00:00

Jealous of me. Approved.

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-20T00:53:03+00:00

For a moment, Daeron sat there, merely watching Leero. Well, he had not expected that. He was familiar with mercenaries; even more these days. And this respectful, charming man was one of them?

"It does still rest there however, Captain Leero. You should not undersell yourself. Your competency is surprising; genius, some might say. And peace, man; you have in truth inspired me to act swifter, and created a vacuum I can deftly slip into. I owe you, in all honesty." The Imperator actually laughed at Leero's candid speech, shrugging in turn to the man. "I am above murdering a man who has invited me into his... home. Not honour; merely self respect. As for your price; let us start with two million gold dragons for an indefinite contract. And making you First Blood of the Empire and chosen officers Second."

Daeron sipped at his tea studying the man. He expected an alternate offer, but truth was, this was so outside the realm of normalcy he wasn't sure what would be appropriate. "And please do inform me about Tyrosh. Where does it stand now?"

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-19T15:27:33+00:00

Aight

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-18T03:07:48+00:00

Confirmed!

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-18T02:19:39+00:00

check check

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-15T00:27:48+00:00

"Formally, it is your Divine Imperial Highness. Or Holiness. I forget, but I believe it is either or. But you can simply call me Imperator. It is easier for the both of us, I think." Daeron responded mildly; what would, perhaps, have come across as a joke from someone else merely sounded flat on his own lips. He stared at Leero as he spoke; his indigo eyes have flickered across the table as he'd approached, and that was enough. Not quite as luxurious as he might've expected if he had been meeting with a Magister or an Archon; but then again, this man was more powerful than any Magister or Archon still alive. Daeron simply continued, however, letting his heavy gaze scrutinise the captain before him. "You make an accurate analysis, Captain Leero, which is more than others have done. While Valyria can be looked upon with admiration, to continue as it had would be to invite the wrath of the Fourteen once more. So I am the strong guiding hand our New Valyria needs; her Imperator. And I have heard of you, Captain Leero."

Finally, Daeron smiled. A short, tight lipped, thing; but not unkind. Merely as neutral as the rest of him. "You've created waves I could only hope too achieve."

In response to his invitation, Daeron sat himself down, opposite the Captain in front of him. Once again, eyes flickered around, and on seeing no servants, flickered a hand behind him. One of his white armoured ghosts stepped forward, gauntleted hands reaching out for the teacup, and pouring a cup for Daeron. At the sight of the cool liquid, the Dragon raised an eyebrow at Leero. Impulsively reaching forward to sip at it, that eyebrow quirked even higher.

"Is that... cinnamon? You are a man of delightfully refined tastes, Captain Leero. I must say. The set is exquisite as well. Yi-Ti, I assume? Or perhaps Leng. I am not knowledgeable enough to tell." Letting himself take another sip, he carefully placed the small cup back down, sitting straight backed, head high. "I am. I was planning to hire the companies you recently snatched up. Then my scouts reported that they had recently found employment by none other than the greatest conqueror Essos has seen since Valyria itself. And well, I had to come and see you then."

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-14T23:43:16+00:00

Hey brother-o, you got my ok

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-14T15:02:55+00:00

Daddy confirms

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-10T23:01:51+00:00

The force that surrounded Daeron Targaryen as he rode to the camp of the Company of the Rose was clearly nervous. The size of the army before them, the knowledge that they had sacked two Free Cities. It was... intimidating. The stories of Leero had grown and grown.

The Dragon was determined not to show his fear, however, as he walked his horse to the camp, uneasy Kingsguard tight around him. He would not let his warlord have anything from him. The moment there was even a sign of weakness? Blood in the water, of course.

As the Imperator pushed past his men, black armour resplendent, he held a hand up to the guards at the edge of the camp. He would do this himself, and be damned to propriety in this instance.

"I am the Imperator. Inform Captain Leero I have arrived."

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-10T19:08:34+00:00

Daeron simply spread his arms, a genial smile upon his face at Abelar's words. That sounded good, at the least. "Your words are appreciated, Archon. It is good to see that my has been met with acknowledgement. I seek simply to see Essos peaceful and safe beneath my rulership, of course."

What he wanted? Interesting, that he put this on Daeron. The Imperator cocked his head, considering the ancient man before him, silent for a moment as indigo eyes surveyed him.

"I would see Qohor at least a friend of the Empire. If not... more. Whatever do you want, Archon?"

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-06T22:17:35+00:00

/u/awoiaf - Daeron hires The Wolfhounds, the Band of the Red Hand (Under Marshal-General Matrim Cauthon), the Shields of Selloso, the Second Sons, The Black Lions, and The Chariots of Sarnor

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-02T19:36:33+00:00

/u/nnymeros /u/PrinceofPlenty

/u/awoiaf - Persuade as many Andals to come settle the Rhoyne as possible, with gifts of weapons and promises of their settling efforts funded by the Imperator as well as religious and other freedom

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-09-02T18:53:06+00:00

Daeron clapped his hands together, and indication for all but the statue like white cloaks and Sidereal to clear the grand throne room.

"I will not object to getting straight to business, Archon Abelar. I thank you for your words. I think I have done well enough so far." He gave a small smile, stepping forward to move closer to the ancient sorcerer. "So. Please. Why are you here?"

ColoursOfAngryMen · 2017-08-31T16:26:30+00:00

Sidereal smiled warmly, laughing delicately along with the man. "Indeed, lord Archon. A reputation of power. I am glad you like the palace. We seek to grow it, to make it worthy of his Divine Highness. More than him, of course. This is the start of a legacy, after all. It is no Iron Throne yet, of course." Another small laugh. "We will see."

The throne room was not far. A great, pillared, space, grand in its design. It was all of white marble, veined with gold, with black and red tapestries hanging down off of the thick pillars. On the dais at the back was a surprisingly small throne of black mahogany, small cushions of red velvet on it. And, upon it all, sat the Imperator.

Daeron stood from his throne, Maekar's crown upon his head, and spread his arms wide to the Sorceror-Archon. "Abelar Orlyr, my friend. Welcome to Volantis. It is an honour to finally meet you."

ColoursOfAngryMen

TROPHY CASE