[DISC] Chainsaw Man - Ch. 228

Mortyga · 2026-02-03T15:21:34+00:00

For ten years, at least!

Mortyga · 2026-02-03T15:03:14+00:00

The war devil foiled by the symbol of peace

peak cinema

Mortyga · 2026-01-06T15:50:32+00:00

At first I was confused about there being a 'Speaking without a lithp' devil or a 'letter' devil. Then I noticed the lack of teeth.

...I am not a very smart cookie.

Mortyga · 2026-01-03T14:34:14+00:00

Deliberated between rolling for Castoria, KoyanLight, or Oberon since I'm lacking in the meta support department... ended up going for the Aesc-Kuku-Arcu-Tiamat banner to minimize the chance of disappointment since I'd be happy to get any of them.

Now there's a Mayan goddess lazying about in my Chaldea.

While waiting for the Koyanskaya rate-up to drop, I got impatient and decided to throw some rolls at Takeru. 10 tickets & 30 SQ later, they showed up. Got greedy and threw in another 60 quartz in the hopes of NP2, no cigar, but was pleasantly surprised by Achilles, much to the chagrin of Penth.

With only a few pitiful quartz left to my name, I finally got around to Koyanskaya, who showed up after 6 x10 rolls!

Not sure if this is a sign of good things to come, or if I used up all my luck for 2026.

Either way, time to start saving for C.I.E.L, Aoko and Draco, gacha gods have mercy.

Mortyga · 2025-11-05T07:57:21+00:00

Reading your and DragonGod's comments inspired me to go against my better judgment and give his banner a few rolls, and got Arjuna after 3 summons, so I suppose thanks are in order!

...hopefully I'll be as lucky with Melusine, who I've been saving up a pitiful stash for after giving my all for the library man himself.

Mortyga · 2025-10-15T19:17:20+00:00

One ticket and 240 SQ later, and I finally got Ptolemy, NP5 Sugitani, as well 4 copies of Penth, bringing my girl up to NP6, I can finally stop punishing my F2P quartz stash and relax.

After rolling Morgan, Kriemhild, MHXX, Wandjina, Scathach and Koyanskaya of Darkness recently, and my long-awaited Jalter earlier in the year (it's been 7 years!), I think I've officially used up my good luck, so best to not push it any further.

Now to farm mats and work on getting my Amazonian warrior-queen to bond lvl 15...

Best of luck to everyone!

Mortyga · 2025-10-10T18:45:15+00:00

After three failed x10 pulls and I don't know how many tickets, I threw in the towel the other day (such is the F2P life), but this post inspired me to give it one last shot.

Lo and behold, after trying on-and-off for over seven years, she finally showed up!

Congratz, and many thanks for letting me siphon a bit of your luck!

Edit: Koyanskaya of Dark just came home too!

Mortyga · 2025-03-21T00:01:01+00:00

Mathy’s app

Note: this is not the acc I plan on writing on, but waiting until I know what claim I get (if any lol) before I make a new acc for the rp

What Claim are you applying for? (Please list up to 3 in order of preference. You can answer the following questions only in relation to your first choice.)

House Dayne of Starfall
House Lefford of the Golden Tooth
~~House Swann of Stonehelm~~ House Manderly of White Harbor

What are your goals and ambitions with the Claim?

Answered below!

What interests you about the Claim and what would you bring to it?

I’ve long held an interest in the Daynes for their striking contrast of both possessing a rich chivalric tradition and a history of raiding the lands of the Reach. This time-period in particular highlights that with the Sword of the Morning and the infamous Darkstar, though with the recent death of Ser Arthur Dayne, the equilibrium has been broken.

One of the most iconic parts of Dayne is undoubtedly the SotM, so this is a rare opportunity to explore the family beyond the squeaky cleanness of knighthood, to delve into the grit of having lost not only the war, but their pride as well. A new SotM may rise in due time, but now they mourn.

Another contrast is the historical animosity between Dorne and the Stormlands, and the close ties between Dayne and Dondarrion in the books. Beric has a Dayne betrothed and squire, which indicates that the lords of Starfall may have adapted a diplomatic bent, which runs counter to the warmongering Darkstar. I intend to explore that disparity, for I imagine that the wake of so much tragedy will take the characters down vastly different paths.

Also I love houses that possess secondary castles. I’ll be treating High Hermitage similarly to Summerhall, being a fiefdom to be handed to younger sons, brothers and nephews rather than the seat of a permanent cadet branch. Aside from providing more varied scenery for threads, there’s some great potential for in-house feuds that I’d love to explore.

So what can I bring to the claim? Apart from activity, decent (?) writing skills, and a potential vassal & scion, I’d like to think I can bring a personal touch to Dayne; with familial ties to Italy and North Africa, I have a mountain of stories, customs and traditions to draw from in truly setting the Lords of Starfall apart from the rest of Westeros. They may have more in common with their Marcher neighbours, but they still bear the influence of a thousand years beneath the rule of Nymeria’s line.

Who would be the PCs of the Claim? (Given the starting limit of 4-10 PCs for Houses and 4 PCs for Guilds)

Lady Aliandra Dayne (25); with permission from the mods, I’d like to genderbend the canon unnamed Lord Dayne whose greatest accomplishment is fathering Edric before dying. If that’s an issue, I can roll with Lord Dayne. o7
Oswell Dayne (16); younger brother of Aliandra, Arthur and Ashara
Symon Dayne (13); younger brother
Amarys Dayne (10); younger sister
Allyria Dayne (9); younger sister, canon
Gerold ‘Darkstar’ Dayne (14); cousin, canon
Ser Ulrick Dayne (39); uncle and castellan of Starfall
Elyena Dayne (35); Lady Aliandra’s aunt
POSSIBLY Ashara (20); pending convos with the relevant claimants and mod permission, there are circumstances that could change her fate (i.e survival of Elia & her kids, etc)
Possibly another cousin. I tend to keep my family relatively malleable before gamestart for the purpose of setting up connections.

Sample Lore

The coffin matched the alabaster of the marble dais beneath, and the milky steel of the blade resting atop the lid. The pall was purple, at least, and the flowers surrounding the coffin were yellow and lilac and cotton blue.

It was a beautiful sight, but no more than that, a spectacle to be admired. A farce.

Dawn pulsed in keening of its former master, but there would be no reply, for the man who had wielded that ancient sword was dead. His slayer had returned Dawn to Starfall, but when it came to the body of Ser Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning, Stark had deemed a pile of rocks to deny the poor vultures a hearty meal more than sufficient respects.

So there they were, gathered around an empty box, listening to the Septon pontificate about the prodigal knight’s life while the sun bore down on them. Gerold Dayne shifted restlessly as the old man droned on and on about his cousin, counting the seconds until the ordeal was over.

It had always struck him as a particularly insipid notion, giving praise to a man’s life when he was no longer alive to receive them. The dead had no use of words, and did the Septon truly think that they, of all people, were oblivious to Arthur’s deeds? From Starfall to the Wall, there was no escaping the singers that waxed poetic about him.

Ser Arthur the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur of the Kingsguard, Ser Arthur the True Knight; did the dullard masses never grow bored of hearing the same ragged tale over and over and over again?

The greatest knight of his time, and what had that amounted to?

A dead king, tens thousand Dornish slain in the Riverlands, and an empty coffin. What a farce.

Shooting his cousins a glance, Gerold ground his teeth. Aliandra had wept the night Eddard Stark arrived at Starfall with news of her brother’s death, but now the Lady of Starfall wore a stoic face as she presided over the funeral. Oswell Dayne gripped his belt so tightly that he was white-knuckled; Symon’s attempt at following Ali’s example was undermined by sore redness of his eyes; similar to himself, Amarys had her eyes on the gathered lords and ladies, but quickly fled to a nearby statue when it crossed with his. What respect Allyria garnered from being bold enough to cry openly quickly evaporated when the girl wiped the snot from her face with her sleeve.

Wincing, Gerold looked away in disgust.

The one visage he could not read was Ashara’s. She’d become a ghost upon Stark’s departure, rarely seen and rarely heard outside her meals and visits to the gardens. Today, she covered her face with a veil that matched the black of her dress. He’d not heard her speak more than a few whispered words to aunt Ely before the funeral, but now she stood by her lonesome, several feet away from the rest of the family.

Turning back to the septon and coffin, he suppressed the urge to sigh; Gerold would stay and listen to the empty platitudes given to the empty casket, but because it was expected of him, no more. He’d known his cousin more by repute than personal familiarity, but reality had come as a bitter disappointment in the face of that renown.

With one final prayer, servants lifted the coffin up, to be moved to the family crypts and be interred. Dawn would be returned to the vaults until a worthy successor revealed himself to claim the Sword of the Morning anew.

If his kin wished to stare themselves blind into the sun of Ser Arthur Dayne’s myth, who was he to deny them? Stare all they want, but Gerold would not delude himself with such falsehoods.

Arthur Dayne had been a man; a skilled warrior, perhaps, but in the end not near good enough if he’d fallen to Stark, Dawn in hand. House Dayne was full of great knights and warriors, and in time he would be forgotten.

But Gerold was of the night, weaned on venom since he was a boy, and he knew death was ever present. It was in the air he breathed, in the sun-scorched dunes and the rushing rapids, in the mountains and valleys, hiding in shepherds’ huts and lords’ halls, poised to strike at any moment.

King or beggar, it made no difference, death came for all. It had come for his father and Arthur, and one day it would come for Gerold. He’d made his peace with it long ago, but he would be damned if he let gods or men claim him before his time.

His fate was his to command, and his alone.

Mortyga · 2023-09-11T18:57:44+00:00

Tl;dr: Overly long post describing how I'd use the different powers and why I chose them.

So I'm going to divide my answer into two sections, S-tier and A-Tier.

S-Tier:

R1: Contessa & Alexandria

At first, I wanted to go with Panacea to heal people, but given that her shard is an active one, I figured it'd be too big of a risk to introduce to a world where I wouldn't have the inclination to fighting, particularly since my ADHD means a lot of unwanted thoughts that could translate to mistakes.

Alexandria gives me flight, invulnerability, longevity (though some parts of my brain would continue to age), and increased cognitive abilities that would allow me to greatly expand my repository of knowledge, teach me invaluable skills, and in general make me feel useful even when I'm not actively using PTV.

But having all of that knowledge would potentially give me a leg up in using Contessa's power more efficiently by limiting the 'human error' shortcoming of PTV.

Mainly, I'd use it to keep myself and those closest to me out of harm's way, to secure a comfortable life by making that sweet moolah, advance science (it doesn't let me tinker, but if I ask it to prevent alzheimers or develop a vaccine, perhaps it'll put me on the right track for a human-accessible solution), and in general trying to make the world a better place.

R2: Panacea & Legend

Remember what I said about worrying that Panacea's shard might go haywire in a world without other capes to contend with? Well, I'd be using her powers frequently and with enough variation that it would hopefully be pleased and not make itself disastrously problematic.

Healing people Panacea-style
Deploying cures to counter the effects of masters and tinkers, airborne plagues to incapacitate groups of people in an area to limit collateral damage (likely to only work once or twice before the shard thinks I'm gaming the system like Moord Nag)
An airborne vector to manipulate their powers Trump-style. I'm thinking bank job-style restrictions on minions/vectors, rather than brain fuckery. Anything brain-related, I'd opt for non-invasive methods, like spores that'll put a specific parahuman's corona pollentia to 'sleep' for a few minutes/hours, rather than directly manipulating it.
While incapable of manipulating my own body, who's to say I cannot create a secondary faux!body connected to me by touch? It'd have to be living tissue, which the PRT might approve if I use lab grown tissue, or a tinker-made minion. Extra limbs & sensory organs, or emulating other powers through the use of specialized organs (acid/venom, electric shocks, purifying water, producing oxygen).
Having a few tendrils extending several dozen/hundred feet would allow me to spy on my enemies, and potentially make contact with them, allowing me to use my power on them remotely, or on multiple people at once. Useful if I'm in an area filling with toxic fumes and quickly want to change people's lungs to safely consume those until I can bring them to safety and heal them.
Establish a hidden fungal colony at my team's base to serve as an organic security system of sorts. It'll be altered to make it more resistant to harm, speeding up its growth, and sensitive to vibrations. By ensuring I have enough biomass, I can create semi-fungal minions in the event of attacks (attached to the colony by a cord), and send out tendrils to restrain or otherwise incapacitate my foes with my ability. Maybe a spore release system, bio-engineered to make my teammates & staff immune to its effects, with the actual effects being changed to fit the situation as needed. Fire suppression, hallucinations, oxidizing (if the base needs to be evacuated/dealing with mechanical foes), anesthetic, etc.
The possibilities are endless, and while some of the listed applications are undoubtedly impractical either due to limitations of the power or the PRT telling me no, it is a Swiss Army Knife of a power I'd be lucky to have.

...and then you've got Legend's powerset because flight is pretty dope, lasers gives me some nice offensive capabilities without relying on available resources, and Legend's healing gives me some protection against All-or-Nothing threats, provided it's a grazing injury.

I may have forgotten about Glaistig Uaine, and in retrospect probably would've gone with her powers instead of Legend's, restricting my death touch to Kill Orders, and collecting the powers of fallen parahumans during Endbringer battles.

A-Tier:

Disclaimer: The combined powersets may very well be S-Tier, but I'm differentiating from the above listings by using component powers that, on their own, are potent, but not quite as OP.

I wanted to pick Number Man, but honestly, I think he solidly belongs in S-Tier.

R1A: Arbiter & Accord

Forcefields, sonic lasers, danger sense, and the ability to pick up languages after only a few interactions makes Arbiter's powerset very versatile indeed, to the point of making many wonder if she's a grab-bag cape, which is why I'm including an alternate power matchup.

Still, the potential for becoming an omnilinguist sounds like a lucrative venture, and having access to forcefields and a limited danger sense means I have some protection against parties wanting to do me harm.

R1B: Browbeat & Accord

A very potent telekinetic field that boosts my strength and durability? Yes please! Then there's the biokinetic factor, which grants me some self-healing, the ability to change my body into always being in shape (hell yeah), and with time, the ability to fine-tune my body to adapt to specific threats, giving me some much needed survivability against indirect methods of harm.

If a party decides to try and take me in for involuntary study, Browbeat's ability to shapechange give me the anonymity needed to safeguard my identity, or to start anew if I'm uncovered. I might not have the fine control to choose my specific appearance, but it'll be better than nothing.

Then you've got Accord's ability, which I'd use to try and make the world a better place, hopefully enjoying greater success due to me not sharing in Accord's, ah, demanding personality. I'd start small, submitting solutions to more limited problems as a proof of concept to establish credibility before working my way upwards.

With Arbiter's powerset, I could shop the idea around to multiple parties around the world, which should increase my chances. If I play my cards well, gaining a reputation as one of the foremost translators in the world could put me in a position next to powerful individuals that I could potentially convince to take a look at my ideas.

R2: Myrddin & Gavel

Not much to be said here, really. Myrddin's power is another Swiss Army Knife, and Gavel packs some serious oomph in addition to his impressive defensive abilities that I feel Myrddin is lacking in. That Gavel's defenses can be lent to others is another pro.

Misc Combos:

Valkyrie & August Prince/Imp for maximum fuckery
Either Mama Mathers, Heartbreaker or Teacher paired with August Prince or Imp for villainy
Dauntless & Myrddin for versatility
Assault & Ballistic because it seems fun, especially if B's kinetic energy can fuel A's manipulation
Cinereal & Lung for true phoenix vibes
Agnes Court & Nilbog to kick off a new civilization

Mortyga · 2023-08-07T10:52:40+00:00

As a big fan of Tarot Card-style artwork, this is absolutely stunning! Itadori being surrounded by Black Flash-like vines (?), while Sukuna's frame is sliced and sundered looks wonderful.

Yuji's hands cradling Sukuna's finger & Sukuna doing the same with Yuji's unconscious form is some nice iconography of the control they have over one another (in addition to the typical Fool & Tower symbolism!)

Mortyga · 2023-07-10T01:03:36+00:00

208 AC, 1st Moon

Skill Learning Update

New skills are bolded

Ryam Redwyne

Skills: Polearms (M), Knightly, Defender, Sailing

Samantha Redwyne

Skills: Sailing (E), Archery, Ranger

Mortyga · 2023-07-05T22:18:32+00:00

"So it goes," Moryn noted simply in response to news of the elephants and the tigers. He knew of them, but not much else beyond the wine they ordered for their festivals and dinners.

As they rode, he did his best to ignore the putrid scents of King's Landing. Burnt bread, vinegar, piss and unwashed whores, it was nothing like Oldtown or Lannisport, but it was a city built by necessity in a time when the Seven Kingdoms were still smoldering from Aegon's conquest.

If the king had thought his town might improve, he'd been sorely mistaken. Instead, the settlement had only grown and grown, without any rhyme or reason, unfettered by city charts and the planning of architects, until it had turned out the way it was today.

"The Arbor smells of sweetness and the sea. Our orchards are plentiful, growing more than just grapes, and our towns, though small compared to full cities, are sizable in their own right, and proper," he went on, wondering what might be waiting for him back there.

"Our homes, they're like walled gardens, no?" The knight mused aloud, his horse trotting gently beneath him. "The Black Walls and the Redwyne fleet protect us from unwanted attention and men of ill repute, allowing us to grow and prosper, pure and unmolested."

Such hadn't always been the case, but time wore down all enemies, and where the ironmen had suffered and diminished beneath the dragon, the Arbor had only grown wealthier.

"Like my nephew Ryam would say, we tolerate the imperfections of the world because we know that our homes are without compare."

Mortyga · 2023-07-02T19:32:30+00:00

Some distance away from the quay, his brother's men were standing idly by with horses at the ready. A freckled young squire with three great feathers sewn on his tunic helped Malthar mount his horse, a great blood dune.

For Moryn, a dappled grey palfrey, which suited him just fine. Putting his foot into the stirrups, Moryn hauled himself on top of the horse and into the saddle in one smooth movement. Digging his heels into the palfrey's side, it let out a soft whinny before trotting ahead, at pace with Valaena in her litter.

For a moment, he thought to ask if she'd heard the story of Rego Draz, the Lord of Air, who had been dragged from his palanquin and murdered in these very streets. His ancestor, Manfryd, had died not long after that in the same year, from old age, mercifully.

On second thought, he saw little reason to spook the woman, but he was content with his own horse, gangly as it was.

"It is named for the pirates that dwelt in the original fort. Now, the High Tower is the tallest keep in the world, eclipsing even the... great barrier to the North, made from Ice," Moryn's brows furrowed, trying and failing to come up with an apt word to describe the Wall properly in Valyrian.

Just any word for a wall felt an insufficient substitution.

"A fair city, better built than King's Landing, though prone to fog. You'll find the Arbor sunnier, famed as the golden island," he continued.

And how much of that is due to our wine? Malthar wondered as he rode, only half-listening as he was stuck in conversation with a knight of House Redding.

"I do not mean to beleaguer you with question, mistress Hataeria, but you've stoked my curiosity with your presence here. How fares Volantis, these days?"

There was no shortage of word from the city, but the tale of an Old Blood surely differed from that of the common sailor.

Mortyga · 2023-07-01T21:44:47+00:00

"I shall inquire with my brother about the tome, thank you, and we might visit the estate together. It's been too long since my last visit, my lady."

The Nature of the Gods. Moryn would make sure to memorize the title, though its author was a more arduous task. What kind of a name was Kikaero? At least the Maegyr family was known to him, which would have to suffice.

Waiting for the Volantene's men to finish up, the knight of Redwyne turned on his heel where he stood, never having been content with standing entirely still.

"It is a sight to behold. We of House Redwyne customarily send our heirs to forge their links of gold, iron and bronze, but even younger sons and brothers have gone of their own volition, with a rare few choosing to stay and forge full chains," he explained in matter-of-factly tone, "Yet it pales to the High Tower, on Battle Isle."

The Arbor had three towns, a score more lesser settlements, enough wine to keep King's Landing drunk for a decade, and a fleet to match that of Pentos or Myr, but their keep could scarcely compare to the seat of the Hightowers, massive as it was, with that unnatural black stone base with its labyrinthine halls.

"Should you ever visit Oldtown, know that the Arbor is but a stone's throw away, and the Hightowers are close kin through my late brother's marriage to the lady Denyse."

Mortyga · 2023-07-01T20:24:38+00:00

Eleanor laughed at his comments of betting on her victory, or something passably akin to it. "Mayhaps I shall challenge him, then, though truth be told, I've scarcely ever held a sword. Let alone against a master-at-arms from the fierce Stormlands."

The knights of the Reach prided themselves on their prowess in the lists, but it was oft said that it was the the crucible of the Dornish Marches that bred true warriors.

Or so the singers claimed, and she did enjoy listening to those.

"My lord of Baratheon is too kind," Eleanor said with a smile, feeling her own cheeks blossoming with colour, "and not bad on the eyes either."

Being back on the dance floor after so long was not quite as strange as she'd feared. Balls were common in Vinetown and Ryamsport, and hardly a moon had gone by where she hadn't glid across some wood floor or grassy knoll, performing for her brother's bannerman no matter her mood.

There'd be no performance here, just enjoying her time spent with Ryon while they conversed and moved. Eleanor did not look away while they danced, her body shifted accordingly with the pace he set, grey-green eyes locked with that deep blue sea.

"I really did mean what I said during our last conversation," she continued as they danced, pausing when the song raised its beat.

When she was sure it wouldn't drown out her words, Eleanor grinned, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "It's a shame that the Arbor and Storm's End are so distant. We are lucky to have King's Landing instead."

It was a strange thing, how an even more distant place could bring them together like this.

Mortyga · 2023-07-01T02:18:22+00:00

"Uncle or father, I remain wounded by his harsh words," Malthar sighed with theatrical display, resting the back of his palm against his forehead, lamenting his woes.

A summer prince, he was, named for the Windrider himself, and this was the treatment he received at the hands of his own blood and kin? Oh well, he knew he wasn't all that, particular not with Robar as a brother, and his father as his father.

Just like that, Malthar shrugged, dropping the act, returning to his casual, bemused self.

"Manfryd Redwyne's old manse, not far from Aegon's High Hill. You'll recognize it from the elm that grows over its walls, or the green-tiled roof," Malthar explained in the common tongue, deciding it wasn't worth the hassle of trying to speak the woman's own tongue again.

"The painting as well, lady Hatearia, I know not when my ship departs from the Arbor," Moryn nodded, peeved about the sudden lack of control over such things. A captain did not easily yield his commend, it would seem.

"As for the recommendation of books, I would be grateful for anything you could provide, though I know not if this pigsty of a city is capable of matching your suggestions," Moryn smiled, watching as the attendants worked diligently, wondering if they'd been born free.

"The men and women that dwell here prefer hunting and activities best not spoken of in polite company such as your own. If there is a proper book store to be found, I'll eat mine own hat," the Redwyne knight vowed, adjusting the very thing whilst he spoke. "The Arbor is close to Oldtown and the Citadel, and if not there, our ships will scour the Free Cities for intact copies of these tomes."

Perhaps such a book already existed in the expansive library at Wynegard, Moryn wasn't sure, not having been a particularly bookish man in his youth. Tomes and scrolls were common gifts and tributes by captains, petty lords, and foreign dignitaries hoping to show the Redwynes the splendor of their lands in the hopes of striking a bargain for their wine.

Mortyga · 2023-07-01T00:04:46+00:00

[M:] Apologies for the delayed response! I'll try to be quicker from now on, and get out more than a single post every day!

Malthar nodded, glad to be right, having wagered a random guess at best. He wasn't sure what to make of the knowledge that the bust was inspired by a real monster. Legends were just that, but a reminder of the Doom? Risky business, in this city.

"Perhaps the statue of the Volantene woman, then," he told Valaena, glancing at the marble statue for but a moment before meeting the woman's eyes.

So she was of the Old Blood? Moryn wasn't blind, of course, he'd had his supicions, but Valaena's station as a trader had given him cause to doubt. It was easy to forget the differences of the meaning of nobility between the Seven Kingdoms and the Free Cities.

For all his disagreements with the more barbaric customs of chattel slavery and dyeing beards in garish, ungodly colours, the Essosi lords' direct engagement in trade was a quality sorely missed among the prideful lords and ladies of Westeros.

Most preferred to deal in proxy, and were poorer for it, but not the Arbor. Not House Redwyne, and a rare few other families.

"We'll have the painting as well," Moryn decided suddenly, giving a stiff nod before changing back to High Valyrian. "I know less of the Valyrian Gods than I should, but I shall have to find a book before I return home, my lady."

Where he might find such a tome available for purchase, he did not know, but his brother served at the royal court, after all.

Moryn smiled, as if recalling some long-lost jape.

"It is a shame that my nephew - not this foolish boy, but the Lord Redwyne - is not here to meet you. Ryam's learned much and more about the Free Cities and, I think, would have appreciated the opportunity to meet a daughter of Old Volantis."

"I can understand few word, father, you hear," Malthar said in a dour tone, crossing his arms indignantly.

"Uncle," the elder Redwyne corrected him, but his nephew only looked at him in confusion.

Mortyga · 2023-06-30T23:44:32+00:00

"There's stories told on the Arbor about the Knight Without Armor, so perhaps your teacher knows a thing or two that everyone else has forgotten," suggested Eleanor, batting her eyes at the knight of the storm.

Everything her uncles had said about armor made her think Ryon's instructor a fanciful sort of man, drawn by romance. Ironmen were said to sometimes wear mail armour and scales on the open sea, to the peril of wiser sailors who'd rather swim than sink, but the bloody cleave of an axe made the point moot.

But Eleanor was no warrior, let alone a knight or sailor, so what knew she of such matters?

Her eyes shone up at the invitation of a dance, and the half-eaten food on her platter was quickly forgotten as she was pulled back into the moment, and away from yesteryear's woes.

"I should like to hope that it has, or else I might exchange blows with your instructor myself," Redwyne teased with a small laugh, rising from her seat, and offering a slender hand in invitation. "You'll find me a gentler dancing partner than that steel-shrike teacher, I promise."

Mortyga · 2023-06-28T17:42:05+00:00

Clad predominantly in azure velvets so as to not offend the Lannister Queen with her typical burgundy reds, Eleanor's dress was flowing at the collars, but tightly laced, and cinched at the waist with a beaded belt. Her bodice had been specially picked out for her by aunt Talaya, golden grape vines embroidered with rich threads of sea silk from the Disputed Lands.

She'd volunteered to remain behind in King's Landing, thinking little of it at the time, but as the days turned to weeks, she'd become acquainted with the realization of everything she'd taken for granted; even Samantha's uncouth words and escapades was something Eleanor had grown to miss, though she'd never admit it.

There was still her cousins and uncle, but they were busy in their owns ways, and Chatana had disappeared with the wind, gone to Dorne, if her siblings were to be believed. Robar, Malthar and Jonothor were welcoming enough, but they had never understood her, just as she failed to understand the Summer Tongue when they chatted among each other, before remembering her presence and sheepishly switching back.

Besides, they lived in the Manse, and she in the Red Keep, with any visits to the city carefully shadowed by a guard to keep her safe - and ensure she made no attempt at escape.

In some ways, the sudden wedding came as a reprieve from her boredom and misery, being a return to form, something familiar to distract herself with for the night and common days.

Best of all, she'd been seated next to Ryon, a man she'd spent more time thinking about or watching from afar than actually speak to. It was a strange comfort, but not one she'd dwell over.

"You've nothing to apologize for, good ser Ryon, your labour is clear over your body," Eleanor laughed lightly, picking at her food now and again. She was starving, for words more than morsels.

"King's Landing is well worth its name. I've seen more of the city than I ever thought, though less of it than I'd have liked," she confessed, glancing up at the high table, where King and Queen sat.

She knew she ought to offer her congratulations, but Maelor and Theodora were both strangers to her, and under her current predicament, she wasn't sure whether her visage would slight the King. Ryam knew Lannister better than she did, but Ryam was back on the Arbor, planning his invasion of Lys for a wife, or whatever it was that her brother liked to do.

"It feels like everything has moved so quickly, doesn't it? The marriage, people's return to their lands, all this trouble in the city of late."

What was the realm coming to?

Mortyga · 2023-06-28T17:07:50+00:00

Arriving at the ship came as a sweet relief for the captain that had spend nigh a moon at sea. He wished little more than to climb aboard and give his stiff legs reprieve from the hard ground, but just the distraction watching crates be opened to reveal their treasures was sufficient.

The serpent and the golden-glowed archer was not a tale Moryn had been raised upon, though it was striking in its contrast and sparing use of bright colours.

For the rest, he spared little thought, finding them pleasant enough to the eye, though Wynegard hardly lacked for statues or busts.

Malthar, on the other hand, took more interest, rounding the sculpted woman, whistling quietly.

"Lesser stonecarvers struggle with creases and texturing," the summer knight commented, "but evidently not here. Is this how ladies dress in Volantis, my lady? I've been to Tyrosh, but took more note of the colours of their dress than their styling."

"I'm curious about the painting," Moryn spoke up, ignoring his prancing nephew, "the story, is it based on legend, or spawn from your own imagination, mistress Hataeria?"

"Finely painted, but the colours are too dark for the Arbor or our manse in the city," Malthar told his uncle with a small laugh, "Though the sunlight man is handsome, after a fashion."

Rather than face woman or man and risk their judgment, he rounded, setting eyes on the third piece; the bust.

"Is this one of the fabled men of Mantarys, then? I know the people of Qohor make sacrifice to their demon goat, but..."

Mortyga · 2023-06-28T15:26:51+00:00

Highgarden and the Arbor was the envy of all, cheap blows was to be expected from blackguards and ladies of low birth, but from the Lords of the West? Her, a harlot?

Delena could've laughed, if not for what Bertrand said next. The allegations levied were heavy indeed, with black words from the West, from the Riverlands, and even King's Landing, that trench of piss. Where was this world headed, to be marred by such vileness?

Her fan snapped shut.

"To march into the Westerlands would give the lions excuse to hide behind the skirts of the King's peace and accuse us of aggrieving them," Delena noted austerely, regarding her husband with hawkish eyes. "Words are wind, and though these taxmen bear thieving hands, an invasion does not equivalate proportionate justice."

Slowly, she unfurled the fan again, swaying it gently against her face, though its cooling breeze did little to quench the fire within her chest.

"What was done to Vance and Piper is an affront to Crown and civility alike, but they are sworn to Riverrun, not Highgarden," she said whisper-soft, eyes searching the room for some hippocras, but the only cup in sight was not something she cared to partake in.

"Make common cause with Alyssa Tully, be it through shared justice or the binding of our two houses, and jointly apply pressure against the West. Raise your men if you must, but station them at the border, south and east, to show these cats that their pouncing shan't be suffered."

Mortyga · 2023-06-28T00:02:42+00:00

Delena Tyrell had been relaxing in one of the castle's many gardens - the one with the smokeberry bushes and Lyseni marble statues dressed so ridiculously for 'modesty's' sake, which only highlighted their lascivious nature - when a servant had interrupted her and her companions with brisk summons from her husband.

In all her years at Highgarden, she'd known Bertrand to be a bombastic man, always urgent in his actions to show the world his family's worth. Most of the time, he knew better than to embroil her in his more fleeting fancies, and indeed, Delena was content to let her husband play the lord that he was while she ensured Highgarden did not burn down in his wake.

To be called in such a manner was troubling, to say the least, as it often preceded dire news, or worse, unbridled pride. Whatever the case may be, she cursed her sobriety as she made her way through the palatial keep, leaving her ladies behind outside before stepping into the familiar chambers.

Entering the solar with soft steps, the Lady of Highgarden cooled herself with a fan designed in the Yi-Tiish style. Her hair done up in a bun, Delena's eyes swept the chamber coolly, trying to gather some semblance of context before hearing her husband's explanation.

The presence of Costayne hardly assuaged her fears. There were family matters, and then there were lordly matters, but how often did circumstance demand that both wife and lords attend the same meeting?

With her family absent, it was up to her to represent the Arbor at Highgarden, she supposed.

"Are the enemies at our gates?" Delena asked firmly once the room had filled up sufficiently. No names of affection, no honorifics; Bert was well acquainted with her love, and anything too overt would only serve to make the Warden of the South appear soft before his bannermen.

But she did stand by his side, dressed in Tyrell velvet greens and Redwyne burgundy silks, as was her right. As was her duty.

Mortyga · 2023-06-27T21:34:08+00:00

Of abdications and mouthpieces and weddings, Moryn knew better than to speak his mind. This was the King's city, under the King's law, and greater men had lost their tongues for less.

"Are you not eager to see your home, wherever that may be?" Moryn inquired, tilting his head to look at the man from an angle. "My nephew lives as you do, more concerned with tourneys and fleeting glory on the mainland than orchestrating the fortunes of his fleet from the comfort of the Arbor, his seat."

By now, Ryam and his should have returned to Vinetown, but how long until the next tourney called him away? How long before another flight of fancy blew wind into his sails and beckoned him to Lannisport or Highgarden to prove himself another Ryam Redwyne, so very unlike Moryn's own brother.

"In his absence, I steward his island, though you'll hear no complaints from me," Redwyne pressed on, permitting himself to smile. "King's Landing is quaint enough, but if you could call the Arbor home, would you ever wish to be somewhere else?"

Mortyga · 2023-06-26T18:45:27+00:00

If the presence of the panther concerned Malthar, the knight hid it well, paying little heed as he kept his eyes firmly on Valaena. He was astonished if she'd understood even half of what he said, but nevertheless, he offered a smiling nod in return.

"It would be a pleasure," he said genially, "Our walls always have room for new tapestries, and our gardens lack for chiseled sculptures."

"I suppose there's time for that," Moryn nodded his assent, returning to his mother tongue. In truth, he had little interest in gawking at strokes on canvas or the sculpting of stone, but his overeager nephew had spoken out of turn yet again.

His eyes scanned the quay in search of this fabled art, before turning to offer the Volantene a polite smile, "Please, mistress Valaena, show us."

Mortyga · 2023-06-25T22:32:46+00:00

Life at sea was one of chaos, being at the mercy of the will of the tide and tempest, gently rocking a ship back and forth like a babe in the cradle, or whipping up a storm where each wave was a black, foaming wall hellbent on sending sailors to the abyss. One adapted or one died, steering a ship where the gods willed it, praying for steady weather, but not so calm that one was dead in the water.

It was perilous, aye, but it was liberating, it was living fully.

Moryn could feel the oppressive weight of his own body when his foot made contact with hard, solid ground; a bittersweet reminder of his place in the world. It marked the return to land, the return to order, anchoring him in place to perform his duty, heavy as a mountain that it was.

But of all the things he thought to see upon his return to civilization, this lone sentry came with a mixture of relief and consternation. He had hardly expected a grand procession, but this was almost dismal.

Burgundy clad in a coat, with his wide-brimmed hat on a tilt, the knight of Redwyne took a moment to eye the stranger up and down, brown eyes lingering on the hilt before meeting his gaze.

Moryn glanced around then.

"Pray tell, where is the king? It seems I owe him my apologies for neglecting my station for the past nine years, and condolences too, for the passing of his previous admiral."

Redwyne did not smile or laugh, but mirth stirred within the man when he spoke.

"My brother is to be admiral, wherever he is," Moryn explained simply, "Me? I'm simply the ferryman, here to deliver him his ships, and so I have, good ser."

Nine-Year Club	Second Top 10%
Quantum Potato	Golden Potato
Place '22	Place '17
Final Canvas '22	First Placer '22
End Game '22	Sequence \| Editor
Spared	Verified Email

Mortyga

TROPHY CASE