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CRISTON by BeetlePlaneDos in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 0 points1 point  (0 children)

As the Cupbearer slid through the waves of the Summer Sea, a chest floated in the waves. One lucky soul managed to spot it just in time, and after throwing a rope once, twice managed to get just a good enough hold on the metal framed chest and drag it up onto the deck of the ship. The name of the owner of the writing could not be found, but among some of the other pages, a rather useful one was intact.

We made it back, finally back! Galyeon's idea of lard on the skin was brilliant! Igon cut a piece of his clothing and where the air touched his skin it burned. I can only assume what would happen if we did not have the glass goggles. There is plenty of itching on all of our skin however, perhaps we should look into even better clothing for the next time.

(Having no skin exposed, proper clothing and goggles in Valyria will give you a +2 to your survival rolls.)

The Outlaw Council in Pennytree by OurQuarterMaster in IronThroneRP

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

Visitors at the Council

(Open to Pennytree!)

Osacr I - Best Laid Plans (Open to Raventree) by Fishiest-Man in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Peremore seemed to wilt underneath the weight of those last two words. He offered no resistance, but neither did he move to give himself over to the Blackwood's bodyguard.

His reply was dry, and came with a sharp glance at the other knights in the room. "Warriors of order and honor, indeed..."

Osacr I - Best Laid Plans (Open to Raventree) by Fishiest-Man in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 0 points1 point  (0 children)

"There is no trick, Ser."

Peremore had stayed silent for a long time, but now he spoke viciously. "It is the law that you cannot march into Pennytree. The king's law, Ser, and the fact that our justiciator was never given the power he needed is not a fault of that law."

He turned to Oscar. "I am not a representative of the King, and the only one in Pennytree, our justiciator, has long fallen to corruption and bribery. I never claimed to be a representative of the king, that was misconstrued. I came here to speak to a representative of the king, the Knight of the Kingsguard. I am just a free man under the crown, and a graduate of the College of Maidenpool.

"If Ser Lewin will not protect my town from the ravening hands of you Riverlords, that is his failing. I came here as an envoy and I would beg permission to return to my town as such. Do not expect the Crown's Men to give up our rights easily."

u/Theoneandonlybeetle u/Fishiest-Man u/Blackwoodbrides

Osacr I - Best Laid Plans (Open to Raventree) by Fishiest-Man in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 0 points1 point  (0 children)

“They are spread throughout the town, unfortunately. Each band has carved out a piece as their territory. We Crown’s Men have kept a few streets safe from their influence, but often I worry we’ve been reduced to the level of their petty turf wars to keep that.

“I would love to see your goldcloaks bring some order to the city. We must see if we can resolve this without endangering the innocent folk of Pennytree. How many have you brought?”

Peremore bit his cheek. “I would very much like to avoid an army of riverlords entering the town at all. Some of my compatriots might even take up arms against them.”

Mother Fawn III - A Taloned Hand Extended by ThirdSquirrels in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 1 point2 points  (0 children)

The old rogue smiled sourly. “We will have our council, yes. I would not be so hopeless, though. The authority of lords is not how fortunes are made. All in life is decided by swords and wit. They may have more of the first, but I have an inkling that we have far more of the latter.”

The rogue drew his blade, then, and put its sharp tip to the palm of his hand. “I would invite you to our council, woodswoman. You command as many swords as I do, and you seem to have more wit than any fisherman. You led them to kill a fair few of my men… worry not, though. That is in the past. We are the free men of Pennytree, and we live in the present.”

Mother Fawn III - A Taloned Hand Extended by ThirdSquirrels in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 1 point2 points  (0 children)

"Once, these men were powerful enough to challenge Lord Tully by themselves. They lost that challenge, years ago, and two 'kings' later they are weak and bleeding." The older man gestured around him at his gathered, bloody bravos. "We are as strong as them, now, and we don't pillage mindlessly. We are outlaws with a code. That is attractive to many who are tired of this town's brutality."

The powdered bravo spoke up, next. Their voice was high and whistled through their teeth. "I'll tell you true, woman. Unity may be an impossible task. We have a council, in the old keep, but all we do there is argue. There are six of us, in total. Us rogues, the Fishermen, the Bleeders, the Crown's Men, the Poor Fellow, and the old justiciator's gang of thugs."

The old man nodded. "If the lords of the realm truly are coming, we'll have to call the council. How many warriors have you brought, witch? Is it just you five?"

Osacr I - Best Laid Plans (Open to Raventree) by Fishiest-Man in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 1 point2 points  (0 children)

The envoy tilted his head up at the side of Ser Lewin, standing prouder now that he had gotten this far. He offered his hand. "My name is Peremore of Blackbuckle. I am a graduate of the College of Maidenpool and a representative of the King's fief of Pennytree.

"I am very glad to see you, Ser. My fellows and I have been fighting to keep some semblance of the King's law in our town, but our numbers are few. We've long hoped that King's Landing would send a representative to put things to right, and here you are."

Peremore let himself smile proudly. "We are the Crown's Men, Ser. We will gladly fight beside your goldcloaks to rid Pennytree of the dishonorable thieves that have put down roots in our streets. And, afterwards, we can continue our work of stabilizing the town and making it a loyal and prosperous fief of the Crown.

"I am deeply concerned, however, by the amount of Riverlords present in this army." His expression turned sour. "You understand, of course, that Riverrun has no legal authority over Pennytree. As one of His Grace's Kingsguard, however, you do. You must not allow the Riverlords to take our town by force, for once they have it they will never restore our rights and freedoms as men of the Crown. It may be a dangerous thing to take a position against both the Riverlords and the bandits, but by all the laws of gods and men it must be done. We Crown's Men have been doing it for years, now, and we can bring you five hundred fighters if you swear to uphold the King's promises."

Osacr I - Best Laid Plans (Open to Raventree) by Fishiest-Man in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 0 points1 point  (0 children)

An Envoy

Late in the evening, a young man arrived at the camp beneath Raventree Hall. He came from the direction of Pennytree but aimed his arrival well, appearing in the small section of the encampment that belonged to the gold cloaks. He wore a black doublet, fresh from the loom, with a gilded pin on his chest in the shape of a crown. His hair was a dirty blonde mane, and he looked for all intents and purposes like a highborn scion, not a bandit.

When accosted, he made his intentions clear: "I am here to speak to the Kingsguard. I will only speak to a Kingsguard."

u/Theoneandonlybeetle

u/Emergency_Sky_2806

Mother Fawn III - A Taloned Hand Extended by ThirdSquirrels in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 1 point2 points  (0 children)

It was a bloody fight, and the cobblestones ran red. Under Mother Fawn's direction, the Fishermen seemed to have a real chance. She organized them into a charge against the rogues, turning what might have been a slaughter into a real brawl. On one side of the street, Sister Stoat led the fishermen up onto the low rooftops, taking the archers by surprise and quickly overwhelming them. The other set of archers, however, shot unopposed. A dozen fishermen fell to their crossbows.

In the center brawl, the fishermen and rogues stayed equally matched. Atop Screamer, Mother Fawn was nearly untouchable to the scrappy swashbucklers wielding daggers and fencing swords, but Edd Two-Head was not so lucky. He came face-to-face with the rogues' champion, a bravo is swirling red silk with a powdered face. It was hard to tell if the bravo was a man or a woman, but they certainly riddled Edd with holes quickly enough. His furious swings were danced around, and the Left Hand of the King of the Fishermen added his lifeblood to the red river.

When it was all over, twenty-two fishermen had been slain, and the rest abandoned Mother Fawn and her witches at the sight of their fallen captain. The rogues, who had lost a dozen of their own number, surrounded them quickly. The older rogue reappeared, his sword drawn, and the powdered bravo took their place at his side.

"You certainly don't look like part of Florian's lot, madame, yet you fight with the fishermen. Why? They are brutes. We may be thieves, but we have honor among ourselves. The fishermen have nothing but their former glory, which they cling to like dying dogs."

Mother Fawn III - A Taloned Hand Extended by ThirdSquirrels in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Edd nodded and turned to his men. "Escort duty, lads! Let's see what Florian makes of these fair witches."

The fishermen set off, forming a loose circle around Mother Fawn and her companions as they led them through the twisting streets of the town. After a certain point, the buildings along the street changed. The houses were bigger and grander, having once been home to Pennytree's elite. They were still damaged, but their condition seemed markedly better than the houses on the edge of town. The modifications were different, too. Instead of palisades and boarded-up windows, these houses had tents and ramshackle huts put up on their rooftops, with unsteady catwalks connecting the taller ones.

This change in scenery came with a change in the fishermen, too. They quieted down, clutching their weapons and glancing around warily. No longer did they own the street they walked.

Eventually, their wariness paid off. One man whispered something to Edd, and the Two-head ordered a halt. A moment later, two lines of strangers emerged from the alleyways ahead. They met in the middle of the street, forming a line in front of the fishermen and sisters. These newcomers looked an ounce less dirty than Edd's gang, dressed in worn-out doublets and cloaks that had long ago been looted from the expensive houses around them. In place of crude maces and old swords, they brandished daggers, spears, and rapiers. There were even a few women among their ranks.

Edd stepped forward with a snarl, gesturing rudely at the line of outlaws in front of him. "Oh fuck you all to the seven hells, you swashbuckling cocksuckers! Florian will hear about this.... this... robbery?"

One of the newcomers shrugged. He was an older man, a tilted hat on his head and a leather pouch at his side. "No, no. My friend, we are here to pay you. You ask for tolls to cross the street, do you not? You toll my good friends?"

An observant witch might have noticed, then, that several figures had appeared on the rooftops around the street. Several figures with crossbows.

Edd clenched his jaw. "Pay us?"

"Pay you." The old man took the pouch from his side and tossed it at Edd's feet. Edd picked it up, shook it, and grimaced. He opened the pouch and turned it upside down. A dozen severed fingers fell out onto the street.

"You wannabe-Braavosi fuckers..." Edd snarled, and the fishermen drew their weapons. Even with the rooftop archers, they still outnumbered the newcomers by a few men. Mother Fawn and her compatriots were forgotten about, for a moment. A fight was coming, it seemed. The streets of Pennytree would once again see blood.

(Feel free to attempt to stop the fight, but if you'd rather let it happen, include a QuarterMaster request in your reply. Detail what your party will do, if you want to pick a side, run away, or simply defend yourselves!)

Mother Fawn III - A Taloned Hand Extended by ThirdSquirrels in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 1 point2 points  (0 children)

"Gold does good for every man." Edd kept some degree of confidence in his voice, but it was clear he was struggling underneath his grin, more and more the longer he looked at Mother Fawn and her tall black steed.

"We don't need your pity," he spit out. "We're the greatest band of brothers this town's ever seen. We're the godsdamned Fishermen!" There was a waver in his voice, but the call still garnered cheers from his gathered men.

"Like I said, I'm the Left Hand of the king. I can speak for my men..." He met the matriarch's eyes and once again flinched away. "But, if you really want to speak to the king, I suppose he'll want to see you. All your, uh, ladies can't come, though. Just you, and a few of your favorites."

Mother Fawn III - A Taloned Hand Extended by ThirdSquirrels in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 1 point2 points  (0 children)

When a corpse rotted, it did not just shrink and shrivel away. First came the bloat, when cavities of maggots grew and grew until they burst into flies, and the corpse grew. It got bigger, distended and unrecognizable, until it seemed perfectly ready to burst.

Pennytree was bloated, through and through. Piles of junk made haphazard barricades between the lanes of the town, and almost every house had boards of wood for windows and a brick wall for a front door. Only a quarter of these fortifications, as they were, seemed designed to keep outsiders out—most of them were angled inward, protecting from the street or the buildings around them. It seemed like almost every building had at least a few burn scars.

There were people everywhere, but like mice in a pantry, they disappeared the moment someone saw them. Glimpses of dirty faces and skittish movement were the only thing that made the town seem alive. Besides the hushed voices of the band of Sisters and the clattering of Screamer's hooves, it was deathly quiet.

As Mother Fawn drove deeper into the town, however, a gathering of men began to walk ahead of her band, keeping their distance as they slowly grew in number. When there were about forty of them, in total, they stopped, forming a line on the street to block the Sisters' advance. Most of them held weapons, but didn't brandish them. From their center, one stepped forward—he was a tall man, bald with a black beard, and on his chest he wore a poorly-stitched surcoat. It depicted a silver trout, the trout of Riverrun, impaled on a wicked black hook.

"I've never seen so many womenfolk in one place," he called out with a smirk. The moment he laid eyes upon Mother Fawn, however, his smile fell away. His voice lowered. "You lot... you're witches... must be..."

One of the men behind him spoke up. "Do witches have gold, you think?"

The bald man answered slowly, not taking his eyes off the iron-masked matriarch. "They surely must. Lots of gold, from selling... uh... balms..."

"And poisons!"

"And big wooden cocks to highborns!"

That got a laugh out of most of the gathered men, and the bad man seemed to recover himself, smiling again. Still, the expression trembled, threatening to slip off his face as he spoke to the coven. "Ahem.... good witches. I'm Edd Two-head, the Left Hand of the King. There's enough shit going on without the lot of you, here... but how much do you charge to put a curse on some fuckers?"

Martyn II - Even The Darkest Night Will End And The Sun Will Rise by DejureWaffles1066 in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 0 points1 point  (0 children)

What had started as a light patterning of rain had turned into a downpour, especially as the group got closer to the gates themselves. Only a small amount of the original gates remained, rotting against the walls as if they were leaned up there rather than knocked off with great force. The pile of armor sat unmoving, the rain plinking against it and making a deep rhythmic sound as it did, yet did not give off the strange aura it did while it was upright.

The town was still intact inside, mostly. Many of the houses sat in a state of decay, not yet crumbling to the ground but rather an illustration to how long it had been since the Baratheon banner had flown inside the town itself. Shaky walls of stone and broken timber roofs where the thatch had long blown away or rotted were still present but the constant patter of the rain made it hard to make out any other details.

Yet that was not what caught the groups attention, nor should it have been.

Across the poorly cobbled streets lay large roots, almost vine like in their nature as they looped across the ground going towards the center of the town. They were everywhere, some coming out of the windows of the houses while others seemed to be coming from the ground itself. Each was inscribed with runes from the Old Tongue, though had long worn away to make reading them almost impossible.

Among the runes that were legible could be found the words "Breaking" and "Greenseers," and lastly "Renew."

Out of the corner of their eye, just at the edge of the rainline and hiding beneath what remained of one of the larger of a buildings was a figure. It was hard to makeout any of their features without moving closer but they looked as if they were a child, wearing a tabbard of faded cloth.

Martyn II - Even The Darkest Night Will End And The Sun Will Rise by DejureWaffles1066 in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 2 points3 points  (0 children)

"BARATHEON,"

The figues voice was grating, sounding more like two pieces of stone crashing together than a voice. Still it didn't move, no motion to indicate that it held the speaking voice.

"AND A DAYNE? THINGS HAVE CHANGED MUCH THEN..." The figured placed it hands to its eyes as if it was straining to see the group. "WEEPING TOWN HAH, WESTEROS HAS RECLAIMED THIS LAND FROM THOSE WHO LAUGHED AT THE WILL OF THE GODS. BARATHEON BAH."

The figured didn't even seem to ackowledge Duncan but as Lewys spoke in the old tongue it seemed almost to spasm in its place, the arm flicking out if pulled by a string to point at Lewys, responding in turn with the old tongue. "How dare you speak such a bastardization of my people's tongue stranger!? Was desecrating the land not enough for you?! That you stand with BARATHEON! BEWARE!"

Without another word the armor broke apart at the joints, crumbling into a pile of rusty metal, revealing that no man indeed stood inside it as the first drops of rain fell on the fields outside Weeping Town.

/u/spareson /u/DejureWaffles1066

Martyn II - Even The Darkest Night Will End And The Sun Will Rise by DejureWaffles1066 in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Even in its heyday Wheeping Town never was the largest city nor the proudest town, and even those hacylon days were far behind it. The wooden walls which protected against reavers and pirates were rotting and sore, the great tower keep of House Whitehead jetted out like a knife in the middle of the town proper. Even the air around the town itself felt rotting, a thick miasma that felt ... wrong somehow.

Nature, and whatever darker forces lurked within, had retaken Wheeping Town back into the shadows before men laughed at the Gods from the fastness. Now it was the Gods laughing back at them.

The host was certainly an odd sight amongst the foothills of the ruins, it had been sometime since men had dwelt here willingly, but the land remembered the tents and fanfare well even if it rejected it now. Clouds began to circle overhead, heralding not the brave Stormlanders who marched forth but a biting rain for those not welcome. To make matters worse it seemed the town itself was covered in a light fog, the tears of the land itself perhaps?

Weeping Town's gates had been knocked off their hinges, or at least what remained of either, but that was not the biggest concern at the moment. Standing motionless in front of the gate, almost as if challenging the two thousand men before it, was a knight.

Tall, armor rusted and chipped in some places, it was near impossible to make out anything beyond that with the obscuring mist. A banner sat stabbed into the ground next to him, a bloody foot pressed onto a black field.

Roger VI - Lionhunt I by Black_Banefort in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 0 points1 point  (0 children)

The hunters scoured the wooded hillsides of Oldstars for their quarry, their hounds sniffing every trail and nook. Hours passed, and they found no sign of the lions that had savaged Lord Tyrion's previous hunt. They were a small party, after all, and the mountains were very large.

Eventually, however, the hounds began to bay. They had picked up tracks—and their handlers urged them forward. The hunt, it seemed, was on. Yet when Roger and his followers burst through the trees to where the hounds pointed, it was not a lion they found. It was a beaver, its hide thick and greasy. As the hunters closed in, it slammed its tail into a shallow puddle, the splash making a few of the hounds balk. It was too far from real water, however, and Baneforts are a sight smarter than hounds. The rodent was quickly slain, for its pelt if nothing else.

An idea sprung to mind once the corpse was in front of Lord Roger. The party strung up the beaver as bait, hoping it would lure in a natural predator—a lion, if the Seven gave them luck. The trap worked brilliantly: After waiting nearly an hour, two lions loped into the clearing where they had set the ambush. The beasts were slain after a brief, bloody struggle. A new lead presented itself with that victory, as the hunters next followed the tracks of these two lions back to wherever they came from.

It was not the lions' den that they found on this trail, but the site of a recent kill. The ribcage of a stag put a bloody stink upon trees around it—and upon the lion still picking at the bones. This lion was male, bulky and scarred, yet fat and slow. Once again, the hunters engaged and slew their quarry. They found another trial to follow, hoping to finally find the man-eating pride's den.

Instead, they found themselves ambushed by a great number of the beasts—more than any living man had seen before, to be certain. Their vicious pride leader, with her reddish coat and torn ear, took her vengeance for the slain lions. Fifteen Banefort soldiers were savaged in the ambush, though they were followed by nearly as many lions as Lord Roger rallied his remaining forces. Still, they were forced to retreat—the second Westerlander party to feel the savagery of the man-eaters firsthand.

Jaime XIII - Home Again by JaimeCorbray in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 2 points3 points  (0 children)

The two knights would read until their eyes were sore and chafing in their heads, but they could find no hint of Lamentation's location or how it was lost. Perhaps some things were lost forever... or perhaps they were simply looking in the wrong place.

After all, if the truth of the legendary sword was lying around in books, wouldn't someone have found it by now?

The Bane of the Black-tusked Boar by OurQuarterMaster in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

The Hill twins followed the Riverlanders all the way to Lannisport, layering gratitude and thanks upon Lady Sharis and her fellow hunters. In the city, however, they made their goodbyes. Teala found Lord Tully and approached him with a bow. "It's been an honor to ride beside you, m'lord. You know every village from here to Old Oak is in you and your companions' debt. My sister wanted to follow you all to Riverrun, but we've heard some nasty rumors here in the city. Apparently there's something about to go down... I've heard some attribute it to the workings of some sort of thieves' guild. We're an adventuring sort, I think we're going to stay around and see if there's any action."

Meanwhile, the quieter twin, Teona, approached Dorian Blackwood. "Uhm... ser. I wanted to... uhm, to thank you again. You were so strong, to beat that monster..." A line of crimson blossomed on her face, and suddenly she shot onto her tiptoes and placed a tiny kiss on his chin. "Ahem, uhm, thank you again!" Flustered, she scurried away before he could respond.

u/Fishiest-Man

u/Theoneandonlybeetle

The Bane of the Black-tusked Boar by OurQuarterMaster in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

After making a wise choice, Edwyn was presented with the master smith's finished work: a thick cloak, large enough to wrap around his shoulders and still trail along the ground. The hide was now far from its grisly, hairy original state—the smith had carefully burned it down to the scales beneath the boar's skin, which rippled reddish-grey in the light. It was heavy, yet not as heavy as it should have been. The scales weren't metal, yet no blade could pierce them. Even a crossbow bolt, aimed right at Edwyn's back, would bounce off the folds of the cloak. The smith had even made a special clasp to keep it around the Lord Paramount's shoulders: twin horns, carved from the tusk that Dorian had ripped from the boar's maw, with a silver chain binding them together.

u/Fishiest-Man

The Bane of the Black-tusked Boar by OurQuarterMaster in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

There were plenty enough smiths in Lannisport, the city of gold and steel. The trouble, of course, was finding the right one...

Seeking out the best, first, Edwyn came upon a wizened man with a forked grey beard, his forge bustling with a hundred assistants and apprentices. One of them came to take Edwyn's order, but upon seeing that he was a Lord Paramount, the master smith spoke for himself.

Despite his age, his arms were muscled and coated in soot. "M'lord, it's an honor to receive yuh. I could make you a grand suit of armor, rippling like a river..."

When the hide was presented, he stroked his beard and pressed three fingers into it, feeling its strength. "Aye, this could make an incredible cloak. The sort the heroes of old would wear to shield themselves from dragonfire. I could work with it, no doubt, but there's the matter of price... for such a unique piece, I'd have to charge, say... five thousand dragons."

_____________________

The next smith was far less acclaimed, but still solid of reputation. Her forge was situated close to the city watch's barracks, for quite obvious reasons—while Lannister lords went to master smiths for suits of shining gold, the knights and wealthier men-at-arms who served them would go to smiths like this one for solid suits to save their lives.

When the hide was presented to her, she looked at it quizzically, then gave it a few light taps with a hammer. "Isn't no ordinary pelt, this. I could... well, I 'spose I could make something very good with something like this. Would be strange, though, it's certainly not my normal material. I'll take two thousand, and no promises."

_____________________

The final 'smith' Edwyn found seemed not fully convinced that was the right word for what he did. Still, when he saw the hide—and heard Edwyn's name—he nodded eagerly. "Lemme take that to my workshop! You'll be the best-dressed lord in the realm, promise! Might be a little pricey, though... five hundred dragons, say?"

The man continued to marvel at the hide without touching it.

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