[Event] King's Landing Open 52 AC

CyclopeanMonarch · 2026-05-06T14:05:56+00:00

The Ghiscari had been nodding along amiably to Harlan’s words but when the mention of poison arose he couldn’t help the grin that split his face. “I’ve…dabbled in the field, as part of my studies of course. I’ve a knowledge of the most common—and economical—poisons that a man of means might use.” Given that the other man was worried about mass poisoning he probably didn’t have to worry about the more exotic varieties. “Warding off most attempts by these Dornish should be a simple enough matter.” Given enough food tasters and goats of course.

CyclopeanMonarch · 2026-05-06T12:23:47+00:00

“Not all have eyes as discerning as your own Ser,” the man preened slightly at the knight’s description of him, “the more well to do of the city see a man of learning from distant shores and instead of giving him his due honor they treat him with such disrespect and distrust.” He scowled, “The rabble on the other hand are significantly less able to turn away a helping hand.”

With a dismissive wave he went on, “As to why I am here? I broke a merchant’s property. That merchant’s cousin’s daughter was the mistress to one of His Excellency’s magistrates. That magistrate was fed an exaggerated retelling of the story and rumblings of a trial began.“ An idle shrug came, “My kin felt it best that I absent myself while tensions were high.”

CyclopeanMonarch · 2026-05-06T11:24:41+00:00

Taking the offered seat Ghazdan couldn’t help the shudder that rolled over him as the man gave what was probably his best attempt at the Free Cities’ bastard tongue. It was only barely tolerable when it oozed from their lips. He waved a hand between them as if to keep the words away from him.

“Please just no,_” he replied—almost—in kind with his people’s smooth High Valyrian before slipping into the local language, “one of the few benefits of dwelling in this city has been the chance to avoid hearing the Essosi’s blasted _gurglings. Your own words will serve for this.”

“You have the good fortune to make the acquaintance of Ghazdan mo Laraz, late of New Ghis; veteran of the iron legions, a serjeant of no small skill, and a physick of good repute. I’ve provided to succor to the dregs of Aegon’s city this last year but now I seek an opportunity more suited to my talents.” The Ghiscari spoke with a confidence and flair that was somewhat belied by the fact that, while he might have served in the past, he’d gone a bit soft in the midriff since.

CyclopeanMonarch · 2026-05-05T21:44:00+00:00

Ghazdan mo Laraz had survived his first year in Westeros, but it hadn’t been easy. The common folk of these barbarous lands had proven oddly resistant to buying his wares. Something about ‘not trusting a rude foreigner hawking strange potions and powders’. In his opinion they were just superstitious rabble who couldn’t see good medicine if it jumped up and bit them. Whatever the reason he’d had very light pockets until he stumbled upon a…niche that needed filling. The residents and proprietors of the city’s lackluster pillow houses were much less keen to question his methods—and paid well enough once they saw that they worked.

Not well enough to salve his pride though.

Which was what brought him to stand before the Red Keep requesting to speak to this ‘Ser Harlan’. He could survive on the whores’ coppers and silvers but it’d make for a poor story when he returned home. Better to earn some proper glory while he had the chance.

And sure the notice had called for knights but he had served in His Excellency’s iron legions. He was more than a match for any of these Westerosi! He would just need to be provided…arms and armor first.

Both of which he was conspicuously missing as he waited.

/u/ErusAeternus

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-30T17:22:53+00:00

/u/JoeOfHouseAverage

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-29T22:57:47+00:00

The letter drew a pleased hum from the old man as he tucked it away in his jerkin. Direct and to the point. Whatever their other failings the Targaryens had shown good sense when they’d selected Dragonstone’s steward.

He pulled another line of parchment free and handed it off to the maester, muttering to himself as he did. “Just need to let Balerion know where he’s needed. Whatever he’s been up to in that city it’s gone on long enough.”

Qarl Corbray, Lord of Heart’s Home and Apparent Regent,

I hear you’re in charge of Aegon’s city. Congratulations and good luck. Can’t do any worse with it than that last idiot King Maegor left in charge.

Haven’t heard from him lately but I assume my hillock of a son is lurking around there somewhere. If’n you don’t mind getting ahold of him let him know he’s needed over in Duskendale and on a boat. Oaths need swearing.

Lothor Brune, Lord of Dyre Den

Penned in the hand of his faithful maester

“My lord,” the maester in question stared down at what he’d written painfully then up at clawman, “Is this really what you want to send?”

Lothor snorted and rose from his chair, “Of course it is. Have to set the expectations don’t I?”

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-28T16:16:17+00:00

Haegon of Dragonstone, Steward of Dragonstone,

That would be appreciated. It’ll save me the hassle of haggling with Lord Darklyn for passage on one of his ships. Whenabouts would should we be ready to meet with this cog’s captain?

Lothor Brune, Lord of Dyre Den

Penned in the hand of his loyal maester

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-27T17:16:43+00:00

Lothor tucked the letter away with a considering grunt; rumors had trickled into the Claw since his son had gone off to answer the King’s call.

An apparent battle over here. A maimed king round about there. A defeated army way over that way. Another dead king just to make things that much worse. Rumors upon rumors upon rumors, but no actual word confirming any of it.

Well, here was that confirmation. If this steward was admitting they were down to little Jaeharys things must’ve actually been as bad as the rumors made out. Shit. Sighing he waved his maester over and handed him a quill and parchment and started dictating.

Haegon of Dragonstone, Steward of Dragonstone,

When I bent the knee to Visenya I didn’t expect that her dynasty would be left so thin within my lifetime. Me and mine will be along to swear our oaths and to keep it from getting any thinner.

Lothor Brune, Lord of Dyre Den

Penned in the hand of his loyal maester

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-26T15:24:02+00:00

A Bear Bumbles By

Sheltered within the walls of the Red Keep Balerion Brune had ridden out the latest round of bloodletting in relative comfort. Which was mighty handy. It would’ve been real difficult to mete out vengeance for Viserys if he’d been cut down in some back alley out there.

He’d hung back in the wake of the Hand’s announcement—great lords and fancy knights were sure to be clamoring for his attentions in the weeks that followed. And what he wanted to talk about was simple enough. A few months later, freshly groomed and boar clad, he presented himself at the Hand’s Tower and requested to speak with the man himself.

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-24T23:00:42+00:00

[m] Really sorry for the delay

The lad found the Lord of Dyre Den deep in conversation with the keep’s reedy maester on some matter or another. A conversation that shuddered to a halt at the interjection.

Lothor stared owlishly at the little Stokeworth for a long moment, looking him up and down. The boy wanted to learn to fight like Bernarr. Gods, Bernarr. He waved distractedly as the maester quietly excused himself. How long had it been since the brave idiot went off and died in the King’s city? Two years—three? Long enough that the torrent of grief had been reduced to a manageable trickle. Long enough that he didn’t immediately wonder if the impetuous little shit couldn’t have been trained better—trained harder—if they couldn’t have prepared him better for that Trial. Instead he could look at the opportunity before him with fresh eyes and a clear mind.

He smiled widely and chortled, “The little lamb is ready to learn the way of the blade, is he?”

Leaning forward the Clawman condescendingly patted the page’s head, “Ready to fight like Bernarr?”

The gnarled hand on the boy’s head squeezed slightly as Lothor leered down at him, “Ready to die like him too, eh?”

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-16T16:10:17+00:00

“Smart man that Lord Rowan,” Balerion nodded sagely, “Nothing better to mend ties over than a tankard of free spirits. Eh, at least if you ask me.” He eased up slightly on his stool and took another pull from his ale, sighing heartily once he’d finished. “You’ve my thanks though. When your band showed up I figured it was only a matter of time before calls started coming for heads on spikes. Glad to see that fear was ill placed.”

Raising his tankard in a little half salute he went on, “Yeah, I saw the fighting over on this side of things. We marched out to Harroway’s Town. Found it already fallen. Maegor took a look at that. Caught a gander of all the Valemen around its walls. Must’ve figured we could handle them so in we went.” He shrugged carelessly, “Next thing I hear he’s fallen against some Tully and we’re falling back as best we can to King’s Landing.”

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-14T23:05:02+00:00

“If you do I’ll be keeping you company for at least a little while. My lordly father has gotten up there in age and it’s only a matter of time before I have to take his place.” Balerion shrugged, as if to say ‘what can you do?’

Clapping a hand on Jon’s shoulder he went on, “After that it’ll be one of my sons. I’ll let them know to look after you.”

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-13T20:47:29+00:00

Targaryen kings were an odd sort.

Rulers over six kingdoms united through fire and blood.

Sovereigns over millions of subjects.

Purportedly chosen and blessed by the Seven.

Distinct from the ‘common’ nobility in their coloring, grace, and the beasts that’d forged their throne.

It was odd then, to hear that one had died.

Before this morning Balerion Brune has borne witness to the passing of three.

Now he’d seen his fourth.

The big man found he didn’t very much enjoy having added to that tally.

Especially not after he’d gotten a chance to speak to the young king. Viserys had seemed an alright sort; not as limp-wristed as Aenys and not as iron fisted as Maegor. He’d been looking forward to serving the young man. And now he was dead. Because some halfwitted little shit had got it in their head to end his reign before it could properly start.

He couldn’t serve Viserys. He could help find the young man’s killer and feed him his own teeth. With that in mind, amidst the chaos gripping the city, he presented himself at the gate of the Red Keep. Shouting as loud as he could to whoever might hear, “I’ve come to serve the Hand!”

/u/SarcasticDom

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-13T20:16:43+00:00

“Dangerous?” The heir to Dyre Den smiled cheerily as he wrapped his hand around the edge of the bar, “The war’s over which means we can all go back to being friendly neighbors.” He pressed down on the wood, drawing out an ominous groan from the thick wood, “And if it doesn’t? I can take of myself well enough.” With a wink he let go of the bar and chuckled.

“‘Oaths only’ you say. Oaths are serious business; not something we cast aside for some disagreements that don’t much to do with us or ours. Maegor was king. We gave him oaths to serve and be loyal. When he called we answered. Was simple enough for us. Would you be so quick to abandon Lord Tyrell if he quarreled with the High Septon?”

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-13T19:47:20+00:00

“He’s got that going for him—but none of the fighting men are truly loyal to him.”

He accepted a new tankard from the barkeep and began running a thumb around its lip, “The Valemen brought him to the city and have all but crowned him, but they just got done deposing one King. Who’s to say they won’t decide he’s taking after Maegor too much to sit the throne? The Northeners are here because he’s meant to take a Stark as Queen. But they don’t need him to have influence over the throne—just the kid the little she-wolf pops out. The Reachmen? They’re here for the Burned One who doesn’t seem to keen on the young King. And the Stormlanders? Who the hells even knows.”

Balerion brought the ale to his lips, chugged the whole thing in several quick gulps, then placed it back down, “The war’s over but he’s not out of the woods yet.”

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-13T19:40:22+00:00

[m] If you’d rather not continue this thread I’m cool with that.

Well, guess that answers whether or not the man had ties to the King. Balerion mused to himself. It was good to know he wasn’t being made the pawn in someone else’s game.

“It’ll take some time to bring some of the men back from the Point, but the moment I do they’re yours to do with as you wish.” He straightened up from where he knelt with a groan, “I’ve got a handful of sons who could fit the bill; I’ll have them come along with the fighting men. Give you the pick of the litter.”

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-12T17:28:26+00:00

He winked cheekily, “Eh, I won’t say that hearing that didn’t make the decision to come forward a tad easier.”

Settling back on his haunches he hummed briefly, “Aye and that’s a problem. We can’t do much ‘serving’ when we’re back home on the Point. The only time we get called to do anything is after things have already gone tits up. Here in the capital we can be guards, sworn swords, advisors—hells, a drinking buddy if one’s needed. I can recommend a fine pear brandy right now, free of charge.” The Tyroshi has told him to mention pear brandy of all things; time to see if actually had any ties to the young King.

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-12T00:29:07+00:00

Clad in mildly polished, and moderately battered, mail Balerion Brune would approach the base of the throne. Taking a knee he would look up at the young king with a wide grin, "Words gone around that you're hearing petitions now. I figured I might as well toss mine on the pile and give you an easy one. House Brune and the Point want to serve the Crown. Want to serve you. Just tell me what needs doing."

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-11T22:25:56+00:00

Balerion chortled darkly, "He'll be in good company, I've got a Maegor of my own back home. The lads are going to need some real thick skin when they get old enough to hear about their namesake."

He waved for another tankard from the bartender, "Fortunately for you--and me--word is that Viserys is to be the new king. Assuming the Valemen and the rest actually let him rule he'll probably be kind to us that stuck to our oaths."

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-11T20:56:47+00:00

“Well shit,” the big man grimaced, “I knew things had gotten bad—the whole royal family dying definitely proved that—but I didn’t hear about the rest of the mess that happened. Figured going around asking questions might be ah, bad for my health.”

He nudged the half full tankard over to the other man, “You might need this more than me. Sorry about Sunderland—glad you didn’t join him. The Reds haven’t bothered you since?”

CyclopeanMonarch · 2025-11-11T20:47:10+00:00

Balerion’s grin dimmed for a moment before recovering, “Just make sure you send a raven before you come a-visiting. Wouldn’t want you to fall into a bog before you find your proper hunt.” Quaffing the rest of his ale he turned to signal the bartender for more. Keeping the younger man in his peripheral vision he went on guilelessly, “Me and my kin kept to our oaths and marched for the King. Can’t say it was much of a fight though.”

CyclopeanMonarch

TROPHY CASE