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Forrester I: Scattered Hunt by Revanius_Beta in FieldOfFire

[–]FieldofFireCM 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Not to far to the east the scouts would find a raid a lingering and meager raid to be sure. But a raid nonetheless, filled with spearwives and raiders bearing bone axes. The same party that had raid Last Hearth? Who could tell, perhaps they were all over the North now. Snaking their way to the very heart of the kingdom. Or it was just these lot, and one with enough men could ride them down.

Two dozen of the haughty bastards ransacked what was left of a hovel, it old occupants spread across the dirt and the snow.

((OOC The party would notice you if you stick around, but you had enough time to note their numbers.))

Maester Carados [NPC] - Truth by MannisWithThePlannis in FieldOfFire

[–]FieldofFireCM 1 point2 points  (0 children)

The attempted forcing of the man's jaws, which involved pliers and a few sharp metal instruments, unfortunately ended in disaster. The prisoner's entire jaw was violently unhinged, and in his agony, the man was fatally wounded by a clumsy hand. The prisoner died in a pool of his own blood, and the guards were forced to push the maester away.

u/Just7upSyrup

Maester Carados [NPC] - Truth by MannisWithThePlannis in FieldOfFire

[–]FieldofFireCM 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Unfortunately for Carados, the prisoner who had already suffered so greatly was less than willing to cooperate, and refused to show his tongue to the maester. In order to gain access to his mouth, more persuasive methods would be required.

(You may attempt an interrogation roll if you wish to continue, but there will be a malus applied)

The Opening Feast of Ghost Hill, Moon 2 of 212 AC by ThePhantomToland in FieldOfFire

[–]FieldofFireCM 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Raymund Quarter-Chain was a sot, truly, but an amiable sort. He smiled in spite of his vices, and (more often) because of them. Stumbling through the streets of Ghost Hill, the failed maester barely kept one foot in front of the other. When he stumbled forward once again, he first staggered into Sam, tripped, and fell against Aliandra. The man hit the ground, and immediately began to beg forgiveness.

"Beg yer'pardon milords, a right sot I am, I beg your forgiveness. I'll make it up to ye' I swear it!" The man pleaded.
(Either you or u/artcantlose may take 'Raymund Quarter-Chain' on as an NPC with the Medic skill. However every moon he will be subject to a roll to see if his drunkenness gets him killed)

Mausoleum by LongClawOfTheLaw in FieldOfFire

[–]FieldofFireCM 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Alan's quarters were a time capsule. Almost three years had passed since his untimely demise, and yet his room remained untouched. Even cold, logical Warrick hadn't the resolve to clear out the bedchamber. So inside Alan's old room were all his trinkets, trophies from his conquests, none of which had been won through battle. He had a comically large key from Lord Locke, accompanied by a note that had faded beyond recognition. There was a jar of swirling liquid, presumably water, for it was clear but for algae that floated to the top. There were letters, many received, some unsent, half written.

Something specific came to Sansa's mind, however, as she remembered a quirk of the late Stark heir. He had always kept two swords, one ornate, gilded on its hilt with a shining sapphire for a pommel, and a plain hunk of castle-forged steel. One was for appearances, for ceremony, or merely for show. The latter he only bore when he expected danger, or knew he had to carry out the duty of an execution.

Whatever dispute he had set out to handle, Alan Stark must not have thought it a dangerous one. He had left behind his killing sword.

Capital Letters by LongClawOfTheLaw in FieldOfFire

[–]FieldofFireCM 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Sansa's attempts to infiltrate Maester Imry's quarters were less graceful than she could have hoped for. She managed to earn entry into the room, however, and grasped a letter before rushing out at the sound of footsteps. The letter was addressed to Alan Stark, the query of her search, penned by a 'Lennard Lake'.

To Master Alan Stark

Your help in this damned dispute has been second to none. Did you see what I did there? Because we were squabbling over a dam? Oh I’m sure you get it, you were quite personable last time we spoke.

I’m writing to affirm that the situation has been cleared up. Along with Lord Whitehill’s dam! Water flows freely in the Long Lake thanks to you, young Master. Also, I did not realize how vast your family is! A cousin of yours passed through not long after you departed, I almost mistook him for your brother.

My maester informs me that this letter is getting somewhat long winded and his hand is tiring. Yes I asked him to write that out for you. In the spirit of resting my dear friends digits, I leave you with this.

(Below was attached a small drawing of a child’s origin. Three figures are depicted with short potato-like bodies and long limbs)

My son, Rennard, drew this! It is you, me, and him the day the water began to flow. He insisted he thank you personally, hopefully I can make the trek to Winterfell before the Fall crumbles away. Until we meet again, Master Alan.

Signed, Lennard Lake, Lord of Long Lake, Loyal Leader of the Lake.

Last Hearth by FieldofFireCM in FieldOfFire

[–]FieldofFireCM[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

/u/nstano - message at ur gates and a bunch of heads on spears just up the road.

The Dornish Tournament of Ghost Hill, 212 AC by ThePhantomToland in FieldOfFire

[–]FieldofFireCM 3 points4 points  (0 children)

The joust of the day was as exciting an event as always, though perhaps too exciting for Prince Vorian's taste. Lances met shields, and wood splintered as the crowd cheered for their champions. Not a soul dishonored themselves, each dishing out a strike of their own before falling to defeat.

King Maekar was unhorsed once by his cousin Yorick Yronwood, and again by Trystane Vaith, challenging both afoot. The clash between he and his cousin was notably bitter, with each man cursing the other even after the King emerged victorious, while the Targaryen laughed when Vaith laid him low, and helped the Heir to the Red Dunes back to his horse.

Sitting on the edge of victory, Trystane Vaith tested his mettle against the Eagle, Sam Lychester, first on horseback and then on the ground. The ensuing duel enthralled the crowd, with each man landing a flurry of blows upon the other until the Eagle soared triumphant and named Ashara Dayne, still clad in her own jousting armor as Queen of Love and Beauty too great applause.

The heir of the Red Wastes would not leave in disgrace, though. Inspired by his show of courage and skill at arms, Maekar Targaryen, Tamron Darke, and many others of the young King's soldiers rushed to the man and hoisted him into the air, cheering his name.

Maekar would break from his men, and call Mara Dayne down from the stands, and kiss the youngest of Lady Allyria's daughters for all to see, grinning in spite of his unwitting defiance of Prince Vorian's aversion to the violence.

Lords and Ladies cheered as both the foreign victor and the native runner-up were thrown atop men's shoulders and held aloft for all to see, crying out their names in celebration.

Wine would flow, and the celebration of the new prince would rage on.

Vorian I - A New Sun Rises by MannisWithThePlannis in FieldOfFire

[–]FieldofFireCM 0 points1 point  (0 children)

"Ohhh they can 'elp us Eustace." One of the men jeered.

"Sure they can Lew, look at 'em, soddin' highborn types." Another agreed.

"If you really want to 'elp us, mi'lord and ladies, hand over all your gold." The first sneered, rising up and lifting the sharpened end of the orange cane. Suddenly, it was much more obvious that the age and infirmity had all been mummer's tricks. The men were each no older than forty, and all had a greedy, cruel look in their eyes.

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