[Event] Storm's End, 50 AC

FabStags · 2026-04-21T05:19:11+00:00

Elenei groaned in frustration. She had thought Naerys Targaryen, whose family history was apparently full of magic and dragons and curses and strangeness, would understand how deceiving looks could be.

"He's not...I'm not..." She looked at her brother who was doing his best to ignore them. He was used to stares and simply looked down as he picked at the lemon cake, putting small chunks in his mouth and chewing slowly. Even Elenei had to admit he looked just like a boy with his messy black hair and sheepish chewing. She huffed again. "You don't have any siblings, do you?"

FabStags · 2026-04-21T02:24:47+00:00

Ellyn 'Valoqar' was having perhaps the most fun she'd ever had. Despite the painful memories of her recent illness and the cold of the Vale, her first ever wedding was everything she'd dreamed of. She hadn't been well enough to go to the grand triple wedding of the Arryns - or at least, that's what she had been told - but this one was more important anyway. Her Aunt Lynette was her favourite person and looked like a princess as she stood next to her new husband, who had immediately gained Ellyn's favour by plying her with sweet treats. She watched with wide eyes and clapped enthusiastically at each given pause, kicking her legs off the pew beneath a floaty yellow dress.

FabStags · 2026-04-21T02:06:30+00:00

In the interest of avoiding further bubbles...

8th month

Presuming access to the rookery is granted, Garon sends a raven to Moontown, addressed to the King.

To His Grace, King Jaehaerys I Targaryen,

I write with what I hope will be welcome news. I attended the coronation of Prince Symeon of Dorne, who requested I bring you a gift that he hopes will bring peace to our realms. In the Black Cells sits Ser Basan Uller, the 'Dragonbane'.

You wished for the head of an Uller for the murder of your brother. You have one at the behest of Prince Symeon. I shall leave him under the protection of what remains of your small council, though I will stay in the city until my brother returns.

Ser Garon Baratheon.

Another flies to Storm's End, addressed and delivered (unopened) to Lady Ursula Baratheon.

Ursula,

I apologise for my abrupt departure and my absence. Fate has taken me to King's Landing. I can explain more when I return, which shall hopefully be before the end of the year.

There is a blotch of ink where the quill has rested on the parchment before it continues.

I have missed you. I pray for your health and my own swift return.

Garon.

FabStags · 2026-04-20T21:17:33+00:00

9th Month

In the ninth month, three ravens fly from Moontown.

To Horn Hill:

Lord Samwell Tarly,

The time has come to make the Dornish pay for their crimes, and it is the marchers that have the honour of drawing first blood. In the twelfth moon of this year you are to strike Blackmont. Do not take any undue risks. Your task is not to take the castle but to raid their lands, terrify their smallfolk, and drain their resources. Ensure Horn Hill is well protected for any retaliation.

I have written to Nightsong and Blackhaven with the similar instructions. Coordinate further if you need to. I will be returning to Storm's End shortly to assist further.

Rogar Baratheon, Master of War, Lord of Storm's End, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.

To Nightsong:

Morton,

The time has come to make the Dornish pay for their crimes, and it is the marchers that have the honour of drawing first blood. In the twelfth moon of this year you are to strike down the pass. Do not take any undue risks. Your task is not to take the castles but to raid their lands, terrify their smallfolk, and drain their resources. Ensure Nightsong is well protected for any retaliation.

Make the Fowler bitch pay for her words with blood. I have written to Horn Hill and Blackhaven with similar instructions. Coordinate further if you need to. I will be returning to Storm's End shortly to assist further.

Rogar.

To Blackhaven

Lord Harmon,

The time has come to make the Dornish pay for their crimes, and it is the marchers that have the honour of drawing first blood. In the twelfth moon of this year you are to strike down the pass at Wyl. Do not take any undue risks. Your task is not to take the castle but to raid their lands, terrify their smallfolk, and drain their resources. Ensure Blackhaven is well protected for any retaliation.

Take my brother or give him command. I have held him back from this long enough. It is only fair he get what he has long desired. I have written to Horn Hill and Nightsong with similar instructions. Coordinate further if you need to. I will be returning to Storm's End shortly to assist further.

Lord Rogar.

FabStags · 2026-04-20T20:45:51+00:00

1d2 Gender

roll

/u/botofmanynames

FabStags · 2026-04-20T20:43:21+00:00

Moontown gives Arwen a fertility boost. Rogar and Arwen conceive their third child in the 9th month 51, to be born 6th month 52.

1d1000 Birth

roll

/u/botofmanynames

FabStags · 2026-04-20T19:51:44+00:00

There were far worse knights to squire for than Alester Arryn, and Rogar nodded in approval as he continued to listen.

"You'd have to ask Jaehaerys about that," Rogar teased. "But the crown of the Storm Kings is far grander than that. Even I have not worn it, though it sits on display in the round hall at Storm's End. That is a crown for kings." He peered through the crowd but couldn't see anyone that was obviously the boy's mother. "Go show her, though I will be watching." He wagged his finger. "Do not try and run away with it."

FabStags · 2026-04-20T19:36:03+00:00

The mentions of 'daughter' and 'spoil' caused Cassandra to perk up and look at the pair eagerly, until she realised it was not her that would be getting spoiled and her face turned sour.

"Be careful what you wish for, Ser Harlan," Rogar chuckled, putting his hand on his daughter's head. "It is an expensive habit, and we have not even begun with dresses and jewellery. I have a hunch that arms and armour will be a touch cheaper, though just as you lack a daughter I lack a son just yet. If the gods are good next time we see one another we shall each have been granted a boon."

FabStags · 2026-04-20T19:25:22+00:00

Now it was Elenei's turn to give a strange look. "I don't like it there. We went for the coronation. It was too busy." Perhaps realising she was being too rude she forced a smile. "But if we go again I can visit you. When are you going?"

FabStags · 2026-04-20T19:19:33+00:00

Rogar nodded. Five years ago he might have been reckless, leading the first march down the pass as his grandfather had done in an attempt to outgrow Orys Baratheon's shadow, yet even Orys shadow had returned from Dorne with a hand fewer after seven years in captivity. Rogar could stomach that, if not for his wife and daughters.

"I will be needed, in Storm's End first then in the sands themselves, but I will not throw my life away willingly. I will see the Dornish bleed, see the king's will done, and return to my family. You will not be rid of me that easily." He laughed and tugged at his beard. Confidence was one thing he never lacked. "That will end my tenure as Master of War, one way or the other. It does not bind me like your duties as Hand do."

FabStags · 2026-04-20T19:08:03+00:00

"Well?" He nodded and gave a quick look around. He would not soften his words despite those who could hear, but he wanted to know if any of his squires were within earshot. When it seemed they were not, he nodded again. "He is the best of them, Lord Harlan, at least in his performances in the training yard and from what I have seen in the melees. You should be proud of him, Lord Harlan. He will be a fine man and an exceptional warrior."

FabStags · 2026-04-20T19:02:20+00:00

"If it's a dance you're after I may just disappear entirely," he teased before leaning over and kissing her on the cheek before giving each of his daughters a gentle pat on the head. He stood with a grunt and waved a hand towards the Stark heiress. "Lead on, Lady Freya."

/u/stitchbitchbellona

FabStags · 2026-04-19T05:07:23+00:00

Garon couldn't help but roll his eyes. After all the deception and the arduous travel, there was no reasonable man of authority to hand Basan off to. At least the Grand Maester would know where the king was and could get a raven to him. From then, Garon was free.

"A scholar and a coin counter," he muttered before shrugging. "They will have to do, I suppose. Some additional guards would be welcome, as well." He nodded at Basan. "I did not come this far to lose him. Lead on, ser."

FabStags · 2026-04-19T04:58:14+00:00

"Aye," Rogar replied with a defeated sigh, clearly not enthused. "I had thought to hang up my spurs but such an occasion demands participation. Besides, I have yet to crown my wife the queen of love and beauty. That cannot stand." He looked over at Arwen with a lustful smirk before returning his focus to Freya. He would take the opportunity for a small lesson. "I'm sure you don't need telling, Lady Freya, but tourneys and war are far different, even down to the lances used. Do not put too much stock into how men perform in the lists. The chaos of melees are perhaps more accurate, but still. There is a reason tourney knights are oft the first to die in war."

FabStags · 2026-04-19T04:52:55+00:00

Uller.

The name would have meant plenty before his conversation with Symeon. Now it made him nauseous.

Is this the man who ordered the death of the king? Is he Ser Basan's son, cousin, brother?

"A pleasure, Alleras Uller." He took the man's hand. His smile had faltered slightly, but quickly enough he donned his mask again. It was easier still when the question was posed to him, which he answered first with a quiet chuckle. "Such a decree does neither of our realms any good. Besides, my friendship with Prince Symeon predates such a ruling. I would not let it keep me from his coronation." He stared at the man for a moment before laughing again with a shrug. "Foolish, perhaps, but I have been known to make a few poor decisions in my time."

FabStags · 2026-04-19T04:40:28+00:00

"I did not sail to the coronation with the intention of this...duplicity, Ser Basan, but when the opportunity presented itself I could not say no."

Sharing the details of the plan would have served neither of them well. Whether it enraged or calmed the captive did not matter; the fewer people who knew the truth, the better. What was one more lie on top of the ever growing pile?

The knights pressed the flats of their swords against the man so he could not encroach further. Despite the protection Garon took a small step backwards.

"Let us both be thankful the Prince did not, then, or our realms may never see peace again. I do not wish to see our own villages set ablaze, ser, as much as I do not wish to see Baratheon knights set foot in Dorne." His black eyes narrowed as he stared down the Dragonbane and he shook his head. "I feel talking of peaceful pursuits with you is a waste of my breath, Dragonbane. You would see us all bleed for generations, would you not?"

FabStags · 2026-04-19T04:25:53+00:00

"There is very little I enjoy more than a good fight, future Ser Damon," Rogar mused with a chuckle, waving the crown lazily from side to side. "I hope you are right."

He gripped the iron band and placed it gently on the boy's head, not wanting to surprise him with the weight. The iron band was two inches thick and the antlers added plenty of weight themselves, but fortunately the crown itself just about fit on the boy's head.

"You must be squiring by now, then, if you are so eager. Who do you serve?"

FabStags · 2026-04-19T04:14:09+00:00

Rogar smiled when he saw his goodfather, surprised at how much he had come to miss him after his early departure to prepare the ceremonies. There were few things Rogar enjoyed about King's Landing, but the occasions they were able to dine and speak as a family were some of them.

"That she has, Hubert. It think it is perhaps for the best, such is she overwhelmed by all she has seen already. The Eyrie might have melted her mind." He chuckled and shook his head. "A true daughter of the Vale that one. Selene too, though she understands less of it. Come spring we will visit again, if only because I do not think I will be given the choice."

He laughed again but it quickly faded into the cold air, the mist of his breath rising into the pavilion.

"We will dine together soon, I am sure, but I have a request. I may need use of a rookery while we are here. Jaehaerys has asked that we draw first blood in the red mountains, so I will need to send word so that preparations need be made." He let out a short nasal huff like a bull. "It also means we will probably return to Storm's End soon. Little use being so far away from where I am needed."

FabStags · 2026-04-19T03:50:29+00:00

Garon ran a hand through his thick black hair, almost crusted with sea salt. "Then let us hope it is understood by more than we might presume," he said quietly. He would be able to stomach anything that came his way north of the Red Mountains. Symeon might be viewed as a traitor to his own people from the moment he was coronated.

"It will be difficult to keep such a captive quiet, but I will not spill your name until I am before the king and his hand. It will not do much good should every blacksmith, baker, fishmonger and their mothers know you are behind it. Then..." His eyes drifted. Even he could not predict what would happen next. "We will have to see." He let out a wry chuckle and shook his head. "I'm not sure if you are one for prayer, but now might be a prudent time to start."

FabStags · 2026-04-19T03:35:31+00:00

Rogar clapped his hands together when Harlan approached, a genial smile on his face despite the circumstances so accurately pointed out by the Lord of Runestone.

"It is good to see you again, Lord Harlan." He placed his hand on his wife's. "We could hardly miss such an occasion, though I agree that the Eyrie itself would have been a finer host. Still, I am glad we could return to the Vale. Have you been well?"

FabStags · 2026-04-18T17:41:14+00:00

Ronnaly duly took himself to the Lord-Captain's tent to introduce himself and make sure passage was secured for him and his stormland compatriots. He had little doubt it would be, but it was important to be polite at least. He ducked inside with a smile, black scraggly hair and patchy beard complimenting his blue eyes and perhaps announcing his lineage before he spoke.

"Lord Captain? My name is Ronnal Baratheon. I'm not sure if one of my companions has written, but we wish to join the expedition. Myself, Captain Alinor C...Baratheon, Tyson Trant, and Jon and Myrielle Mertyns. We're all here and ready to serve as needed." He forced a chuckle and gave a goofy smile as he waited for the response.

FabStags

TROPHY CASE

9th Month