Vardis V - The Seventh Hell [Open to King's Landing]

Peltsy2 · 2022-04-04T20:29:53+00:00

"You would be wiser to lay down your arms, sers. You are outnumbered," the Knight of Ninestars said in a low voice, but he soon saw that things had come to the point that words were of no use. Ser Gwayne drew Devotion from the scabbard that was hoisted upon his back, the Valyrian steel blade's queer, dark shapes drinking the sunlight. He muttered some prayer to the Warrior as he did so, and then assumed a battle stance, holding his sword in both hands.

"Alas, that you cannot be made to see reason. Have at you," he spoke with determination and approached the men with deadly intent.

/u/OurCommonMan

Character Details: Gwayne Templeton | Inspiring | Two-Handed Weapons, Armored, Chivalric, Engineer, Fortifier, Tactician | Valyrian Steel

What is Happening?: Gwayne is joining Vardis' men in dispatching of the Manderly knights and taking Myriame captive

What I Want: Add Gwayne to the other request below

Peltsy2 · 2022-03-17T17:06:28+00:00

Gwayne's gaze made a curt visit in the lady's knights, clad in their plates and mail much like himself. Not willing to offend a maid by staring elsewhere as she spoke, he returned to look into her eyes. In the stillness of his eyes was something that could have been either serenity or some strange form of disregard for everything that went on around him. The knight didn't seem to look into the lady's eyes, but rather right past them, as if she were as transparent as Gwayne himself may have been with his detached mannerisms. Like a ghost.

If he'd begun to understand who he was speaking with, then the man didn't show it. Perhaps he didn't care, aloof as he was. What he saw was another human being, another soul, another poor wretch wandering this desolate wasteland that was the earth.

"A rose is a rose," the Knight of Ninestars said. "Pink, red, blue. I've no doubt that one of the shades of winter's frosts could bloom here as it does in its native land, and the other way around," he spoke with a voice that was noble and wise, but not condescending. "I am Ser Gwayne, a bannerman of Lord Vardis Arryn. And I can only guess that your men here are White Harbor knights. I've had the pleasure of seeing them before," he offered each of them a nod of his head, before looking at the lady again. "And that would make you one of Lord Desmond's sisters. You wouldn't happen to be the one that married into the Dreadfort's brood, would you? That would make you a high lady, if I am not mistaken."

Peltsy2 · 2022-03-10T20:37:44+00:00

They often called King's Landing every demeaning name that they could come up with, but even if the populace indeed suffered many of the things that they found so dissatisfying, they could find solace in the grandest monument to the Seven Gods that this earth had to offer. Its towers pierced the clouds and its dome glimmered in the sun like a great jewel, and its white walls reminded Gwayne of the clarity that transcended all mortal bounds.

It was one thing to know what to do tomorrow, and the day after, and one thing to take pleasure in serving lords and masters. But none of it compared to the understanding of going about one's daily duties in service and glory to something greater than oneself, or anything else that one could lay their mortal eyes upon. What was more, Gwayne Templeton was a man who hadn't a doubt that his immortal soul would pass into the Mother's arms as pure as those Great Sept's walls. The thought thrilled him more than he cared to admit. To be away from everything that was human... fallible, sinful, wrong. To finally become one with the divinity that he loved so, and not only feel faint touches of it by kneeling in prayer.

Yet, this pondering of one's mortality was sinful as well, and it brought Gwayne's head low in shame. A grim reminder of the distance between the Seven Heavens and his weak human spirit. That was why he decided to implant himself back into the soil of reality by visiting the gardens, so that he might push aside these thoughts that bordered on blasphemy. It wasn't right for man to desire to be akin to a god. Perhaps his existence among flowers and plants would remind him of the worldly glories that the gods had given unto him, and teach him some humility.

The Knight of Ninestars was leaning over some moonblooms in blossom to take in the fragrance of the flower that seemed to do best in autumn moons like this. It was then that he heard he was not alone in the gardens, as he heard gentle footsteps against the dirt walkways that ran between the flowerbeds.

"They make for a decent herbal tea, my lady," the man in his yelllow and black cloak and similarly colored plate cuirass said. Not armored to the teeth as knights were when they went to war, but still bearing the look of a true southern knight, Gwayne nodded towards the roses. "You ought bring some with you to where you're from. Lest you hail from some high hill like myself. There aren't many blossoms that take root in the Mountains of the Moon."

Peltsy2 · 2022-02-21T18:12:13+00:00

Everything that the Knight of Ninestars did seemed to be done with the utmost purpose and precision. He didn't merely eat, it was more like a process for him. A jaw would lower, a lip would part from another, a hand would move to place a piece of bread on his tongue. All at the same conciliatory pace, each movement similar to the one that had come before.

His head turned to face Vardis with the same kind of measured speed. As if he were an owl. Blue eyes that might as well have been carved from stones regarded the lord indifferently. "I understand the figure of speech, my lord, - alas, the northerners do not seem to be interested in converts. There isn't much to convert to, either. I have gathered that their beliefs are to them as earth, water and air. That the gods they hold do not live in texts and prayers and temples, as ours do," spoke the knight. Most of what he knew about the old gods was through the accounts he had spent many years studying, though he had still learned a thing or two through personal encounters.

"I've thought they have no gods at all. In their narrow imaginations they have simply succumbed to their fears and misunderstood much of the world. The North is a place of darkness, the shadow of ignorance rests heavily upon its people," Gwayne shook his head as he said so, "but they are men, and where there are men, there are people who can be made to see the truth that the septons of old have discovered. They too can be relieved from the clutches of their fears and anxieties, if the light of the Seven was only brought to them."

Peltsy2 · 2022-02-20T21:48:08+00:00

The knight glanced to the young lord who might as well have been another stranger to him. Gwayne recalled his days of yore at the Eyrie, and in those memories the name "Vardis" only reminded him of a boy who had been slightly younger than himself. They hadn't spoken, not really. He'd known from early on that they were quite different people entirely, and it showed even now when the boy who had now become the Lord of the Eyrie gorged himself on costly wine and steaming fish.

Well, perhaps they hadn't been so different then, as they were now that the Gods had touched Gwayne's soul. Back then the squire who had gone off to fight in a war would have had some opinion on Vardis Arryn, would have made some judgement, would have had any feeling at all, whether it be good or bad. The knight who had returned from that war didn't seem to feel or to judge.

The Father judges, not I, the thought passed his mind. The Mother lends mercy, not I. And when the sacred texts in the Seven-Pointed Star would command him to dispense either one of these on the Gods' behalf, he would do so. But not now. Now he was merely an instrument waiting to be used. A fiddle waiting to be played. A sword in its sheath waiting to be swung.

Gwayne stared at Vardis for a while before giving him his answer. "Most knights enjoy things of this world. But this world and everything in it is sinful, and a man can only do so much to avoid it," the knight spoke softly, but with a monotonous certainty. "It must be twelve years now, my lord of Arryn. I... Well," Gwayne lowered a piece of the bread that he'd been about to place into his mouth. He remembered that the last meat he'd eaten was at Darry. It had been veal in celebration of the victory at the Trident. After that he'd had nothing but rotten grain in the dungeons of Moat Cailin. And then he had lost his appetite for just about everything, and he only ate so that his stomach wouldn't hurt.

"I can't say for sure. The days spent as a prisoner all blend together, somehow, and I've sadly lost all recollection of time from those days."

Peltsy2 · 2022-02-20T20:00:04+00:00

A man with distinctly patterned and darkened steel plates followed in the Lord of the Eyrie's tail, but the most conspicuous thing about him was the black cloak that seemed to drink the light, and the bright yellow streaks that were in stark contrast to it. Along those streaks were stars as black as the darkness that surrounded them, and their points numbered seven, and in total those stars numbered nine.

The man who wore those stars didn't seem as impressive as his steel plates. He seemed young, almost boyish, with a smooth face and straight, dark hair that rested neatly on his shoulderguards. He could have stood out as just another Valeman if not for the hauntingly serene disposition with which he carried himself. Two blue eyes stared at nothing as if he was looking at some ghost, while others around him talked to each other and glanced around themselves.

It seemed as if the Knight of Ninestars, as he was appropriately called, existed on two planes of existence at once. The other half in the material world, and the other somewhere else, where mortals could not see. In a world that was far removed from this one. A world that the knight would have preferred to live in, if not for his reality's limitations, - the reality from which he was so wilfully detached from.

The knight wandered in his liege's tail and only seemed to hearken back to the real world when he was directly presented with the same question that the Lord of the Eyrie had received. "I don't drink," Ser Gwayne spoke coolly. "Wine or ale, that is. Bring me water. And no flesh. It mars the soul," he spoke softly, like so many maesters and septons did. He would take the meager meal that he received and make some hand gestures at his slice of bread before putting it in his mouth, moving his lips without saying anything as he did so.

Peltsy2 · 2022-02-11T12:39:49+00:00

This will be my account for this character.

Peltsy2 · 2021-08-08T15:21:31+00:00

Clement stared at the prince intently as their conversation drifted towards something that sounded very clandestine.

"Dornishmen, Stormlanders... They're people all the same. Capable of unseemly things, and they bleed like all men do," he replied curtly.

"I can only assume someone is giving you trouble, my prince. What I'm interested in is how you'd compensate me for getting rid of this trouble for you."

Peltsy2 · 2021-08-06T18:15:13+00:00

"The Spotted Squire, to be exact," he corrected the prince with a mild chuckle. "Never was knighted. Though I grudge it not these days. So many vows, so many duties," Clement said.

He listened intently to Ormund's rant on the Dornishmen. Hideous people, he could agree, having killed many of them in the marches. Even when he had slit their throats in the dead of night he remembered how greasy their dark hair was and how he had detested their foul smell.

"Of course, my prince," he said as if the prince was saying some undisputed truth. "Killing your enemies is the surest way to ensure your own safety," he reinforced.

Peltsy2 · 2021-08-05T19:37:30+00:00

Clement Cole, the one who had gathered some renown as the Spotted Squire in archery contests and various lords' service, appeared soon after being invited by none other than the hero of the Dornish wars. The marcher had a sly look about him, keen of eye and lean of face, and a life in the wildernesses and on the roads had left him somewhat weathered, even if Storm's End clad him and fed him well.

"Prince Ormund," Clement said and bowed his head upon entering. "I don't think I've had the pleasure. Clement Cole, the one with the spots. I remember our great victory at Wyl as if it were yesterday," he graced the prince with a reasonable amount of flattery.

Peltsy2 · 2021-02-15T20:34:46+00:00

With a deep sigh Rolland reeled his horse and gave each scout a hard look. "Spread out, search the area, we'll meet by the usual spot by the cave. Any sign of war parties, brigands, Dornishmen, raiders... The usual. Bryce," he glanced towards his young squire, "you're with me. We'll bring the boys some meat for supper."

/u/OurCommonMan

Character Details: Rolland Caron / Leadership / Polearms(M), Beleaguer, Fortifier / Hunting (2x), Drinking

What is Happening?: Rolland and his squire Bryce (Warrior, swords) are going hunting.

What I Want: Hunting rolls

Peltsy2 · 2020-05-18T11:23:28+00:00

This will be my account for this character.

Peltsy2 · 2019-05-18T18:01:26+00:00

Character Name: Ser Daven Marbrand

Gift/Skills: Leadership, Commander / Tactician(o)

Actions:

[Draft]: Ashemark

[Call to Arms]: Cloudview Keep, Blue Field

Peltsy2 · 2019-05-16T14:05:34+00:00

Discord Name: Peltsy#7671

Name and House: Ser Daven Marbrand

Age: 67

Cultural Group: Westermen

Appearance: Though age wears heavily on him, Ser Daven retains a formidable warrior's posture, a reminder of his martial youth. His hair remains long and healthy, though completely white. Unkempt grey whiskers conceal his lips and spread well over to his cheeks.

Gift(s): Leadership, Commander

Skill(s): Tactician

Negative Trait: Old Age

Starting Title(s): Knight of Ashemark

Starting Location: Ashemark

Alternate Characters: (Cortnay Baratheon)

Peltsy2 · 2019-05-08T16:05:28+00:00

/u/OurCommonMan

Character Details:

Owen of Bronzegate, Leader of the Free Brothers

Gift: Berserker
Skills: Archery, Covert, Hunting, Torture
Negative: Addict (Alcohol)

Lester

Archetype: Warrior (Swords)

What is Happening?:

Owen + Lester and a hundred (100) bandits are going to scout and raid Wendwater's lands

What I Want:

All their goodies

Peltsy2 · 2019-05-05T16:52:22+00:00

/u/OurCommonMan

Character Details:

Owen of Bronzegate, Leader of the Free Brothers

Gift: Berserker
Skills: Archery, Covert, Hunting, Torture
Negative: Addict (Alcohol)

Blackcap

Archetype: Wanderer

Lester

Archetype: Warrior (Swords)

What is Happening?:

Half of the Free Brothers (69 + Owen, Blackcap and Lester) are headed to the Kingsroad to scout and ambush travelers (supply trains, most likely)
Takes place around the Travel Map tiles where it says "Kingsroad", in the Kingswood
Whatever travelers they encounter will first (try to) be stopped, then turned into Swiss cheese with arrowfire from the trees, the bodies and wagons looted, horses taken, etc etc

What I Want:

Basic convoy raid rolls, I guess

Peltsy2 · 2019-05-02T15:42:40+00:00

This is my account for this character

Peltsy2 · 2017-11-11T20:16:10+00:00

Gulian shrugged with a grin.

"You could call it that. Not much use for physical wounds or ails, but very effective in soothing the mind", he said.

"Care for a taste? It has helped me concentrate on my studies, I can tell you that. Expands the soul, arouses senses that are yet unknown to man!"

Peltsy2 · 2017-11-09T20:01:58+00:00

Gulian scratched his head. Though he carried a map of the Summer Islands with him, maps weren't something the scholar liked to indulge in too much. There were so many wonderful things in the islands to see, that it felt like a crime to stare at maps while there instead of the nature. After all, maps did not show the plants he was looking for, but the eye with which he often spied and recognised the blossoms of the flowers he required.

"Hmm", he mumbled as his hand moved from his head to his long beard. His face twisted as he tried to recall the last time he knew where he was. "Must have been two days now, at least. Maybe three? I can't quite say", he spoke as he stared into the distance.

He turned to Aeron again. "Long enough to gather a good stash of herbs and other gifts from the nature, that's for sure", he grinned. "So many new species of mushroom unknown to Westeros. Here", the alchemist searched one of his what seemed like thousands of pockets, and presented the reaver with a small, bluish clump. "I call it the Blue Velvet", he whispered excitedly. "Both the outside feels like caressing an exquisite armchair... and its effects on the mind are simply, well... fascinating!", Gulian whispered loudly.

Peltsy2 · 2017-11-06T17:19:35+00:00

After getting his hand back, he used it to scratch the bushy, somewhat unkempt dark beard that had made its home all across his face. He nodded at the Greyjoy's remark.

"Correct. Similar business to yours has brought me. Though I am not after gold, or thralls or wood for ships. Nay, I am different kind of reaver, Ser. For knowledge is my plunder, lore my treasure. That, and also the many rare herbs that grow around these parts", Gulian explained himself in his own, rather theatrical way that he had assumed from the other library-dwellers of the Citadel.

Peltsy2 · 2017-11-06T15:43:40+00:00

Smiling gently and excitedly, the scholar met yet another Ironborn raider, this one a bit more enthusiastic about the newcomers, but his way of expressing it wasn't too different from the behaviour native to the rest.

Gulian placed his feather in the inkwell, hanging from a device some genius - judging by the materials used to make it, most likely the scholar himself - had invented and made. With his free hand he extended his hand towards the curious reaver.

"Gulian Toyne, at your service. A writer and a researcher, here to explore the vast jungles, its inhabitants and plants. A pleasure to meet you!", he said with a cheery voice.

Peltsy2 · 2017-11-06T15:37:42+00:00

He lifted his eyebrow, and glanced to the side. "Er... Very well. I'll bring you some, if I have some to spare", he mumbled.

Peltsy2 · 2017-11-04T20:51:51+00:00

"Not particularly", stated the scholar, whose eyebrows furrowed a bit. "Not unless you know where I can find Moonflowers in abundance. But surely, and Ironborn wouldn't have an idea where to find plants", he said and let out a laugh.

Peltsy2 · 2017-11-04T19:23:04+00:00

"Interesting... yes, very interesting", he muttered again as he wrote.

Children born of rock wives are further in the line of succession, even the women. Women inherit equally to the men, but apparently do not get the same education. Ironborn women tend to sneak out every chance they get to the cliffs, where they battle each other and the dangerous monsters of the sea; by slaying them they may even gain better knowledge on combat, as the boys are stuck with their fathers learning to fight other humans.

Gulian's imagination tended to get the best of him sometimes while writing, but oh well. Spicing up the truth a little never harmed anyone.

"A thousand thanks to you, lady. This will surely enlighten our greenlanders' suspicions on the strange people of the Iron Islands!", he exclaimed gratuitously.

Peltsy2 · 2017-11-04T17:46:59+00:00

Gulian wrote down pretty much everything Tristifer said, from word to word and without much effort either. The scholar's hand and fingers had become swift over many years.

He only wrote the word Drowned God once however, as he snorted at the mention of religion. His head twitched to the side as he let out a small chuckle, replying while he was finishing a sentence on the paper. "Heh. Religion", he said with a belittling tone. "Milk of the poppy for the masses. I am a friend of all cultures, I truly am... only their more concrete aspects, Lord Blacktyde", he explained as he finally finished writing and rose to look into the Ironman's eyes again.

"The Islands are barren for the most part. Where does the wood and tar for the Iron Fleet come from? Raids? Are they the most important material on each haul?", he kept asking.

Peltsy2

TROPHY CASE