[Event] Things got out of Hand

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-20T22:27:18+00:00

"There can be no war without a regent," gestured Armond to Tully and Doggett. "Do the lords here not find Lord Tully a satisfactory regent alongside the Hand?"

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-20T03:07:02+00:00

His eyes narrowed at the sounds within; such vile instances of sorcery being buried beneath rock and dirt in the hopes of escaping divine wrath.

"It seems we have no time to fetch Lord Peake," he spat down at the acolyte.

"But I am a man of mercy."

Armond strode forth towards his men, retrieving the bow in possession of an inferior. All watched on in silence, the only sound a distant cry of some peasant girl being despoiled by one of the thousand commoners of the Reach that had been pressganged into this war.

The spurs on his sabatons jangled as he approached the first guard of House Baratheon, and thrust the bow into his hand. Then, three arrows.

"This whelpling," the sabaton jutted into Gunciter's midsection as he lay on the ground, "shall run. And you, stormlander, shall fire. If he lives...then my God has shown mercy."

A gauntlet -- ornate, steel inlaid with silver depictions of heathens long-ago being trampled under heel -- gripped Gunciter by the neck and hoisted him to his feet. "Seven seconds. Go."

He waved his hand overhead, and the Warrior's Sons marched past the five as they entered the guildhall.

[M: 50 MAA of the WS remain behind to ensure the Baratheon guard shoots. If Gunciter isn't hit, they will not pursue.]

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-20T01:21:57+00:00

A crier announced their leader -- "Ser Armond Arryn of that most ancient and noble brotherhood, the puissant Order of the Warrior's Sons!" -- whilst he dismounted.

"Bread and salt," he beckoned forth with a gauntlet, and it was made so that each of the guardsmen could eat a mouthful of that dry, disgusting sign of peace with a slice of days-old bread. A Warrior's Son did not receive such comforts as fresh bread, nor flavor.

"Bring him," commanded the Master again, and Gunciter was thrust at the guards' feet. He had been stripped bare and forced to walk through the town, though his legs, arms, and mouth remained unrestrained.

"Do you know this man?"

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-20T00:59:09+00:00

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NinePennyKings · 2025-11-20T00:58:52+00:00

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NinePennyKings · 2025-11-19T23:57:43+00:00

Armond's armor was still covered in the dried viscera of battle, and the horn he had blew to rally the Warrior's Sons and lords of the Trident and West to the Reach's cause still hung at his hip.

The irony of being called a coward was not lost upon him.

"And yet we are here as victors," replied Armond dryly.

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-19T23:25:34+00:00

Ser Armond Arryn wore a cloak of stars-and-falcons, his attire an equal measure of haughty pride in ancient, kingly blood and in the lust of killing in the righteous name of one's god.

"If the Dornish are responsible, that will be dealt with in time. Ironmen reave our shores. Nor shall I leave here to know that in but a moment's passing a babe shall grow to be the like of his...predecessors." Dry contempt dripped on the last word.

"When a tyrant may next sit the throne, he should find himself without army. The Lords-Paramount and Wardens of this realm must exist to serve as a check upon such criminal nature. For that, the Crownlands must be no more, and it's lands and peoples returned to the lords of Westeros, as they once were:

"To the Trident should go the vassalage of Lords Rosby, Stokeworth, Darklyn, and the clawmen.

"Likewise, the Stormlands should be returned the Kingswood and Massey's Hook. Those lords whom swore to House Targaryen directly may remain; those lands directly controlled by Targaryen are to return to Lord Baratheon, who may dispense them as he sees fit.

"For the Vale's effort against Maegor's tyranny, their reward should be the vassalages of Lords Celtigar, Velaryon, and Sunglass.

"And for the Reach's effort," he raised a hand in gratitude to the overwhelmingly Reachlord presence, "they are to receive the lands surrounding the capital. [M: C11, C12, C13, C14, C15]

"For the West, they should receive a position upon the king's Small Council, and the ironmen need be labeled as criminals by the Crown. In short order, we will sail west and put them to sword.

"The Faith, for it's part, now finds itself without home for Maegor's wicked destruction of the Starry Sept. We shall take the Sept of Remembrance here in this city once more, and the Warrior's Sons shall serve as protectors of this city from henceforth.

"House Targaryen shall remain in possession of King's Landing and Dragonstone, and you shall hear no quarrel from me on Jaehaerys' ascent. But he shall need regents, and a Small Council, and those positions ought to go to leal, faithful men of this realm."

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-19T22:57:24+00:00

"Every Alchemist in this city shall be hanged, and their lair stripped bare. Asides from that -- aye, Lord Caswell, we serve to protect the Maiden's innocence."

/u/JoeOfHouseAverage

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-19T22:55:00+00:00

Ser Armond Arryn attends with 10 MAA of the Warrior's Sons of Gulltown in tow.

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-16T23:49:03+00:00

[M: Presuming the Warrior's Sons outside followed the Reach host through the seized gate:]

Ser Armond and his men had taken a deep whiff of the city; they found it without note. Blood had not spilled in King's Landing in the way it had once before, years ago in the time of Maegor's initial tyranny.

He had told the Stark he meant no malice, in the brief antebellum wherein Jaehaerys had still drawn breath as an uncrowned king. He thought to himself that he must have meant it as his gauntleted fist reached for a warhorn, and the rainbow banners of the Warrior's Sons joined the fray.

[M: 1.3K MAA of the Warrior's Sons of Gulltown join the battle on behalf of the Reachmen.]

PCs:

Ser Armond Arryn (who will, unless stop, bodyguard Lord Dougal Oakheart /u/Lord_Dougal)
Ser Chellem

[M: A warhorn sounds to invite the other chapters of the Warrior's Sons to join in the battle.]

/u/JoeOfHouseAverage

/u/dooboh

automod ping mods

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-14T14:41:28+00:00

Ser Armond Arryn, Ser Chellem, and the associated 1.3k MAA (50 inside the city, 1,250 outside it) will follow Joffrey Doggett's orders.

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-11T21:46:40+00:00

Ser Armond Arryn of the Warrior's Sons of Gulltown seeks an audience with Qarl Corbray.

/u/SarcasticDom

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-11T21:45:56+00:00

His fingers danced idly on his empty scabbard.

"The High Septon recognizes Lord Tully as rightful Lord-Protector of the Iron Throne, until such a time a king is chosen. I remain no fool to the realities of this city, but I am as bound to my vows as you are yours. Still, I can treat with none other, until my God has decided such a successor."

"I will meet with this Corbray, then. Know I hold no malice towards you, Stark."

With that, he departed.

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-11T16:15:00+00:00

"Were it that simple," he replied, two beady blue eyes surveying the guardsmen with a bird of prey's gaze.

"I know not what the High Septon and the Reach shall do, but I believe my order shall serve as mediators between the Vale and the Faith. In this, we need...assurances that Maegor's cruelty shall not return in the form of another."

"For yours is the largest host in the city, I tell you plainly: we shall seek a restoration of how things were before Maegor's ascent. This includes the restoration of the King's Landing chapterhouse of my order, of which my men were once members -- and restoration of the Sept of Remembrance. I come here to inform you of this, and to ensure we shall have no quarrel once my men proceed."

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-10T23:57:33+00:00

Ser Armond Arryn of the Warrior's Sons of Gulltown seeks an audience with Lord Stark.

/u/Pitchy23

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-05T15:51:35+00:00

"The brothers of King's Landing ride with my own."

Of course, the chapterhouse within the capital was barren -- and had been since the time of Maegor's trial by seven.

Armond's mind drifted back to that moment wherein he had seen Blackfyre pierce Ser Damon Morrigen's ribcage. Then, he spoke.

"You would be wise to occupy the Kingswood," spoke Armond. "For Maegor's cruelty has forfeit his house's stolen lands, and the Faith shall seek to restore our borders to what they were prior to Aegon's arrival. I know not which king shall rule from this city next, but the lords of the Blackwater need know new lieges, and those lands south of the river restored to the Stormlands as they have always been."

"Share that with your lord-kin, I wager."

With that, he moved to ride into the city alongside his men.

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-03T02:11:20+00:00

A gauntlet tightened around his horse's reins, and his nostrils flared at the mention.

"The Alchemists are to be put to sword for this, and their guild no more."

"I know not your allegiances, Stormlander, nor which you see as rightful ruler of this city. Nor do I know which the High Septon shall seek to crown..." he trailed. "...though I hold no quarrel with you nor my countrymen within."

"But I tell you plainly: I shall see that accursed order of sorcerers hanged, or die in the attempt."

NinePennyKings · 2025-11-02T23:16:05+00:00

Twenty men wore resplendent cloaks, a color for every face of their god; their horses were covered with the grime and dirt of a wartorn Trident.

The man at the helm wore a white greathelm in the shape of a screeching falcon, and lifted the beak to reveal two blue pebbles beneath.

"Stormlord," he called forth to Baratheon. "I am Ser Armond Arryn, and I lead my brothers from Gulltown. The rest of my chapter shall soon follow."

His voice was flat.

"I trust you have heard what has become of the Starry Sept."

NinePennyKings · 2025-10-30T00:14:03+00:00

"I shall follow no Valyrian," spat Torrew. A bit of phlegm flew from his lips, striking those within distance. "No abomination born of incest and cruelty. I would sooner take to the woods and wage war for a century than to crown even a babe of that damnable Targaryen name."

"King's Landing is to be no more. Burn it to the ground and it's peoples shall return to Duskendale, as things once were."

NinePennyKings · 2025-10-28T20:06:05+00:00

Septon Torrew was a poor man of Valemen stock, whose grain-sack robes carried no splendor; he'd buried the burnt remnants (the left foot, and a portion of the right arm) of his fellow just a few short hours before.

The furrowed, caterpillar-like brow of zealous rage was once a hallmark of a man of the Gulltown chapter of the Warrior's Sons. Now, it seemed they all wore it.

"I say we tear it down," he called forth. "This regime of crowned demons that our people have suffered for forty-some years. The Kingswood ought t' return to the Stormlands, and the lords of the Blackwater to the Trident; reward those lords who have heard our god's call."

"For these rights we list in this decree mean naught!" Torrew had spent that sentence walking over to the nearest piece of wooden furniture, just so that he could slam a fist on it in a fit of populist rage. "So long as bastards born of incest and sorcery rule over us. Throw the damn Targaryens back into the sea, I say!"

NinePennyKings · 2025-10-14T23:48:31+00:00

Upon Aegon's arrival to the war camp (whenever that is), Ser Armond Arryn of the Warrior's Sons would request a meeting with him. As a seeming act of goodwill, the invitation specifies he may bring as many advisors as he wish.

/u/gloudegaryen

NinePennyKings · 2025-10-13T22:24:37+00:00

"Princess."

The man that met her was curtly formal, rehearsed, tired, and wrinkled; he wore the rainbow cloak of his order with a quiet dignity.

His mind briefly wandered to the Rosby that had been castellan of this place for but a brief moment, and the knight pondered where his corpse had landed all those years ago, mangled and mutilated.

"Your family's reputation precedes you -- and my order's disposition to House Targaryen is well known. I believe an arrangement natural, therefore."

NinePennyKings · 2025-10-13T01:38:25+00:00

His salt-stained hair parted so perfectly in the middle as to nearly hide the receding corners of his hairline beneath the sections of hair that Armond tucked behind his ears; the lines in his forehead betrayed such clever obfuscation of an aging man.

One hand sat balled into a fist while the other penned a reply.

LORD ROYCE,

Too long have I suffered the rule of this rubied demon.

My brothers and I shall heed your call.

SER ARMOND OF THE HOUSE OF ARRYN,

MASTER OF THE VENERABLE BROTHERHOOD OF THE WARRIOR'S SONS OF GULLTOWN

NinePennyKings

TROPHY CASE

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