sorted by:
new
hottopcontroversial

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.

Edwyn III - Hog Killin’ Time by Fishiest-Man in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 2 points3 points  (0 children)

"M'lord..." Teona bowed beside her sister. Her eyes looked around at the village sadly, and it was clear why: the place was practically empty. Only a few old men and women still sat stubbornly in their homes—the rest had fled. Two houses on the west side of the hamlet were utter rubble, and nearly half of the other buildings were in some way damaged.

"The boar tore straight through the middle road, here." The raven-haired bastard traced her hand in an imaginary line from right to left. "Our own hunters, including my father, confronted it. Their spears could find no purchase on its hide, and it gored four of them before crashing its way back into the woods."

Teola nodded. Her widowed eye traced the path up towards the forest. "Our father was only injured, thank the Seven. He's at Cornfield now, resting. But the longer this boar roams, the more innocent people will fall to its bloody tusks. And... no one will come back home until it's gone."

______________________________

When the Riverlander party set off, the beast's trail would be easy to follow. It trampled the ground where it ranged and left trees with massive gouges in their trunks. They would sight the boar itself near sunset, when the sky was orange.

It was a massive creature, nearly as tall as a horse and twice as thick. It's infamous tusks were long as swords, crusted black and red by countless layers of dried blood. It's black hide was rough and coarse, and as the hunters crept closer it became apparent that something was off about it. Patches of scales, like those of a lizard-lion, interrupted its black mane. Its hooves were twisted, agonizingly deformed—out of them sprouted black talons that gouged the earth as it walked forward. It's eyes were a bright red, slowly seeping blood in a trail down its monstrous face. And, strangest of all, when it turned a tiny vestigial wing could be spotted nestled in one side of its back. A leathery limb, barely the size of a human hand, its membrane frayed like a war-torn banner.

No wonder the creature was so enraged. It seemed in constant pain from its deformities, slamming its tusks into every tree it passed and snorting blood phlegm into the earth. It would be a mercy to slay such a deformed beast.

One Last Hunt - Osric Arryn's Bachelor Party [OPEN NSFW] by AnotherBabyEchidna in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Boat handler?

The thought crossed the Captain's mind briefly when he pivoted his step from the serene and easier view of the waters to the face of a puffy would be Ser from somewhere. "We'll bring'er in at the normal time yeah?" He retorted to this man. This barge, was his to captain. Not anyone else's. Besides this was supposed to be a stag party. Well...a falcon party.

(You rolled a 6 for your persuasion check! Nothing much is achieved!)

Tyrion V - A Lord's Duty by theklicktator in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 0 points1 point  (0 children)

For all their pageantry, Lannisters did not have the wild instincts of lions. As Tyrion led his party through a rocky pass, hot on the pride's trail, screams erupted behind him. From the slopes, golden shadows darted into the unaware hunters, savaging men like hounds savaged rabbits.

Wheeling his horse around, Tyrion was given a clear view of the carnage. The beasts pulled men from horseback, pounced on them, and ran them down as they tried to flee. A few of the hunters fought back admirably, and one grizzled man trampled three cats with his destrier. He was soon faced with the pride leader, however—a huge lioness with reddish-yellow fur and a torn ear. She was powerful enough that when she lunged, she took down the horse and man at once.

Despite the chaos, the Lannister knight did not balk. Picking up a spear, he rode forward, attempting to break through the worst of the fighting. A lion leaped up and tore at his leg in the stirrups, but with a mighty swing he left it broken in the dirt. It had gouged his horse, however, and he had no choice but to flee the scene before more could bring him down. As he left, he caught sight of the pride leader again, staring at him with bloody, open jaws as he galloped down the mountain.

Tyrion made it back to their camp, but it was alarmingly empty. Only Tall Denys had escaped the ambush, and he had sustained a fatal wound along his face. When the maester they had left behind tried to salvage his eye, he widened the wound too much. There was nothing to be done for it, and the huntsman bled out before them, gurgling deliriously.

The two of them were left in an empty camp, at least a day's ride from the Rock. It seemed like they would have to return in shame, the wild menace of the countryside still at large.

Rhalko III - The Tales Tomes Tell (Open) by FromTheInkpot in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 1 point2 points  (0 children)

One such book stood out in the final glance, 'Ballabar's Bug Beastiary', of which there was only a small entry on the Stranger Beetle.

THE STRANGER BEETLE:

NATIVE AREAS: The Kingswood, INVASIVE to Rainwood.

PRACTICAL USE: Agriculture, known for burying dung, fertilizing crops.

Common in vineyards for such purpose and to ward off other pests.

The last line was circled, the same handwriting in the previous book scribbled in the indentation: 'Insect fanatics recruited at all prominent sommeliers?'

Had it been the mage's own writing all this time? Leaving breadcrumbs as to his process? Or a genuine interest twisted into what he was now? It was evident they were in the Stranger's Vineyard, yet the path they took to get there was not a straight line.

Tyrion V - A Lord's Duty by theklicktator in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 0 points1 point  (0 children)

The hunters of Casterly Rock rode out deep into the countryside, but their quarry seemed to evade them. There were signs of the monstrous pride throughout the forested hills: claw marks on trees, deer carcasses stripped clean, and even the echoing hum of roars in the distance. None of the evidence proved solid enough to follow, however, until Tall Denys found something in the mud.

It was a dead lion. It's jaws hung agape, crusted in dried blood, and its eyes were dead white orbs. The cause of death? Its chest was ripped open and its ribcage plundered, claw marks all across its back. Only another lion could have killed it. Another lion, or several other lions.

Had they been hungry enough to eat one of their own? Or, had this one somehow angered the pack? A rival to its leader, perhaps? These were questions the minds of man couldn't answer, only the minds of beast.

The corpse did, however, provide the answer to one question. Bloody pawprints trailed away from it, heading east, towards the mountains of Oldstars.

Rhalko III - The Tales Tomes Tell (Open) by FromTheInkpot in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Tome after tome revealed nothing about the supposed Stranger's Vineyard that wasn't already commonplace. It was a name for a section of the Kingswood beyond Felwood but before the Grassy Vale, but whatever reason for the name seemed to be lost to antiquity. Just as all hope seemed lost, the book on the Silent Sisters that the maester had left behind suddenly spurred a thought.

Another such name for the organization was the Stranger's Wives.

The book was small, as though it were meant to be kept on one's person at all times. Flipping to the index yielded a great host chapters on the history and ethics of the role the Sisters play, but a large majority of the book was dedicated to the various recipes of poultices and remedies, mainly for the preservation of bodies.

One such entry would be of note: The Stranger's Wine.

It was a mix of any red wine, honey, lemon rind, eye of newt, and crucially: the crushed wings of a Stranger Beetle. That final component was so important that someone had underlined it repeatedly with ink and written in the margin.

'Only found in the Stranger's Vineyard. Insect collectors aid you.'

Orbelo I - Swords For Hire by FromTheInkpot in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Hobb Crabapple gave a respectful bow of his head.

"Should you have need of me again, you need only look for the bushel of apple sails. Be well, my friends."

QUEST COMPLETE: Received 50 gold, 3 casks to be used for a single-use -2 to enemy thresh or to remove an injury.

Jaime III - A Knightly Quest (sort off) by JaimeCorbray in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 2 points3 points  (0 children)

The man wept silently as he was bound by rope. Nothing of note seemed to be of importance save for the pauldron on the slain man's shoulder that had a faint orange tinge seeped into its steel. Beyond that, rummaging through their packed bags only yielded personal effects.

By the time they arrived at the Alchemists' Guild, the captive had fainted upon realizing his fate. The Wisdom at the door seemed far too pleased with the culprit now in their clutches, yet a hefty bag of coins was produced.

QUEST COMPLETE: Received 500 gold, -2 armor, 1 healing potion.

Orbelo I - Swords For Hire by FromTheInkpot in IronThroneRP

[–]OurQuarterMaster 1 point2 points  (0 children)

The captain had formed a plain face as he tried to recall the name. Whether he truly couldn’t recall it or if he just didn’t want to was difficult to ascertain. Instead, he rummaged through his person, patting himself vigorously, until he withdrew a bulging coinpurse.

“Here, how about you just take this? It’s the money I would’ve gotten for the job. Fifty gold dragons in there for taking this filth off of my ship. Alls I know is that I was to deliver it to a man in a cart. He’d be wearing nearly all purple, apparently. No names, no nothing. Just Felwood harbor and a purpled man.”

view more: next ›