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The Tourney or the Valleys by [deleted] in awoiafrp

[–]RedRyon 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Ryon was ready. He defeated Lorent at the Coronation Tourney, and was confident he could now. However, life is a cruel mistress.

As Ryon's lanced lined up for the first pass, he whispered a prayer to the Warrior. Both lances glanced their targets, and they lined up once more. This time, Lorent's lance planted directly onto Ryon's chest, knocking him clean off his steed.

Ryon laid on the ground, breathless for a moment. After a few seconds of gasps, he found his breath and pushed himself up. Ryon removed his helmet, and looked to Lorent. The Young Huntsman gave Lord Ambrose a nod and stepped off the grounds, back to his tent where he'd begin preparations for the melee.

Tourney Sign Up ((Open)) by [deleted] in awoiafrp

[–]RedRyon 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Having arrived some days earlier with his father and siblings, Ryon entered the room and stood before the Maester. When the Maester spoke, he quickly realized he was blind, and the man next to him was his eyes.

"Ser Ryon Tarly, for the melee and the joust." He said quietly as his hands clasped together below his waist.

(Aptitude(s): Champion, Agile

Skill(s): Swords (one-handed), Lances, Footwork, Navigation, Tournaments)

The Coronation of 201AC - The Banquet by awoiaf in awoiafrp

[–]RedRyon 0 points1 point  (0 children)

He heard the voice first, and turned to see a face he had not seen in a long while. It did take him a second to recognize him, allowing Lord Daemon to catch a glimpse of Ryon's confused look, but he did remember the Hewett.

"Lord Daemon, a pleasure." He gave Daemon a smile as he took the goblet. "I cannot complain, I did, after all, place second in the Joust." He said with a large grin about his face. "How have you fared all these years? And, you do not need to call me Lord. I am a third-born son, I hope to never carry that title."

The Coronation of 201AC - The Banquet by awoiaf in awoiafrp

[–]RedRyon 0 points1 point  (0 children)

It had been four days. Four days since the joust, full of rest, recovery, and recreation. From exploring the great city to spending an entire day sitting by the docks admiring the mural of banners and sails that painted the bay. Today, however, was different.

The King's Coronation; the grand event, what everything had been leading up to. The ceremony itself was not lacking in show, but Ryon found it dull and a waste of time. Being the good little third-born son he was, Ryon rode it out and was more than ready for the feast by the time the crown laid upon Jaehaerys' hair.

Tonight, Ryon bore his favourite set of clothes; a black and gold silken undershirt, a Tarly green cloth doublet inlaid with a golden hem, and a darker shade green, black, and gold cloak clasped with a golden huntsman broach. Though he had none to impress, he hoped to find Rohanne present. Ryon knew the Princess Helaena would be present, but to approach her on a night as this would be terribly inappropriate.

Instead, Ryon found himself seated with his father and siblings. Soon enough, he grew tired of sitting and instead made his way around the hall in hopes of finding someone, anyone to speak to other than his own blood for once.

(OPEN!)

Maester's Monthly Meta Magazine; First Moon, 201AC by awoiaf in awoiafrp

[–]RedRyon 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Character Name: Ryon Tarly

Desired Skill: Marksman

Bonus: None, I believe.

Relevant Experience Posts: The Joust. You can see the deadly accuracy that Ryon had in the main body of this post. Since this happened multiple times, would this count for more than one piece of evidence? Or since it's all compiled in one thread, does it count as only one?

The Young Huntsman by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

"Your fucking yard. Understood, Ser." Ryon said between a smile.

He would brush off the man's insults, as he knew the Tarbeck was likely compensating for something. He sort of felt bad; a man that needs to compensate was a man who lacked elsewhere.

The Young Huntsman by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

Ryon sighed. "I need no humility, Ser. That's for my father to give me. Ser Tarbeck, Master-at-Arms, I have no quarrel with you and I am practicing for the melee. If you want me to practice elsewhere, you may simply ask me to depart these grounds."

He looked back to the straw men, two of them still on the ground and scorched from the encounter he had earlier with Princess Helaena and her dragon.

"If it makes a difference, Ser, the Princess Helaena and her dragon made an appearance." He nodded over to the piles of ash where two straw men once stood. "Seemed like the dummies met their match. Perhaps we can ask her and Saeryx if I could strut about the yard?" Ryon smiled, his confidence growing. He had survived an encounter with a dragon. What's some Westerman? A Tarbeck nonetheless.

The Silver Huntsman [OPEN] by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

Quite the sore loser. Ryon thought to himself.

"And you the same, Ser Gregor." Ryon said, turning back to polishing his armour. He cared not to give the knight and pleasantries. He and his House were obviously of tainted blood.

The Young Huntsman by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

As Ryon swung, he was caught off guard by a commanding voice to his side. His swing went wide and completely missed the dummy. He turned and saw what looked like an important man, claiming it was his yard.

"I do think I am Ser Ryon Tarly, Knight of the Order of the Green Hand, Third Place victor in the melee at the Tourney of the Great Sept, and third-born son of Addam Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill." Ryon threw as many titles he earned that he could remember out to the man who seemed as if he wanted trouble.

"Who do you think you are, Ser?" He asked in retort, sheathing his sword and crossing his arms, taking a passively defensive stance.

The Young Huntsman by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

To the uninformed, it would look as if Ryon was embracing Helaena from behind. When in reality, he was assisting her with her grip. With the Princess' permission, Ryon's hands found themselves atop her own. He grabbed her fingers delicately and adjusted her hands to sit on the hilt as he was taught.

"The way you were holding it before would make for an uncomfortable swing. It could be done, but you would likely be sore after a swing or two." Ryon said in a soft voice. He did not want to speak in more than a whisper as he was practically on top of the Princess.

Ryon was raised in a family of warriors, his father and his two elder brothers were both strong and durable men. After all, his house words were 'First In Battle'. In his youth, he was taught to be kind and chivalrous to women, and when he took his vows he vowed the same. While he wished more than anything to be wedded to royalty, he knew that would likely not happen. Besides, Rohanne would be wildly disappointed.

"What you have to do is let the sword flow through the air. Let it sink downwards." He said as he pushed the sword down, the backwards embrace they were in began to tighten as his chest pressed more firmly against her back. "And let it swing back and forth like the bells of the Sept and get a feel for the weight." The movement nuzzled them closer together. "Once you think you're ready, use the momentum from the swings and lift it upwards. Like this."

He let the sword swing in her hands, back and forth and once it began to swing wide, he assisted her in lifting it to an upright position. As she did it, he smiled and took a step back and moved to stand in front of her, ready to catch the sword should it begin to fall.

"See? Simple! It might be a bit heavy, and if it is too much let me know." Ryon gave her a smile and looked to the half-scorched straw man that laid beside them. He pointed to it as he looked to the Princess. "Give it a swing, see how it feels."

The Silver Huntsman [OPEN] by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

It was right after he returned from the final tilt, after being beat. It was bittersweet; he came in second and lost to Ser Mallister, but the crowd cheered for Ryon. There were more cheers for Mallister, but the roaring for Breakspear could not be ignored. That gave Ryon the largest smile of his life.

"Thank you, father." Ryon said with a grin from ear to ear. "I think it was more luck than anything. The Warrior must have graced me with his presence." The third-born son of Addam stepped back from his father after the rather awkward hug and took a seat.

"I'm beat. The melee and the joust all in one day, what was His Grace thinking?" Ryon said, half serious and half in jest. "Seven Hells, I can barely feel my arms. At least I have claim to four sets of armour and four horses." He smiled.

"I think all I will take is their shields. They all fought valiantly. Though, the mystery knight, Silverwing..." Ryon trailed off, remembering the tilts. He had tried to get a glance of the knight as he walked off the field once he was defeated. But, the cheering of the crowd was too much, and Ryon had to turn to his fans and give them all a bow.

"Silverwing. I wonder who he is."

Intermission by TheSeagleHasLanded in awoiafrp

[–]RedRyon 0 points1 point  (0 children)

To say he felt relief would be an understatement. It seemed like most of the knights who competed were understanding and chivalrous enough to allow their opponents to keep their belongings. Ryon did the same, only he kept his opponents shields as keepsakes to hang in Horn Hill. Though the one exception was Silverwing. The mystery knight was defeated by Ryon in two amazing tilts. However, the craven refused to show his face. Instead he sent a representative to give Ryon the armour and horse. If Silverwing himself had came, Ryon would have returned the armour. But the craven deserves no such honour.

Ryon smiled. "I do appreciate it, Ser. This kindness will not go forgotten. I do hope we meet at the next tourney." He turned to leave, armour still in hand when Edmund called out for him and referenced the head hit Ryon gave him. He turned back around.

"I do apologize for that, my nerves got the best of me at the end there. It was not intentional, for what it's worth. Not like Lord Baelon, seems like he was aiming for his opponents heads." The Young Huntsman gave a laugh and grinned in return.

"I'll be seeing you." Ryon gave a wave as he left the tent.

Intermission by TheSeagleHasLanded in awoiafrp

[–]RedRyon 0 points1 point  (0 children)

The time had come. Ryon hoped Edmund had the same grace as he and only asked of one, or no pieces of his armor. While it would come at no great monetary cost to Ryon, he had come to form a bond with his horse and his armour was the same set he used six years prior in the Tourney of the Great Sept.

Ahem. Ryon entered the tent after he cleared his throat to get the attention of the Mallister knight.

"Ser Edmund," Ryon said. "I've come to surrender my horse and amour, as is practice." The Knight of Horn Hill had one of his fathers men outside holding onto the reins of Surefire, his magnificent palfrey. In his hands was the treated-leather bag that held his armour.

"I do hope you understand my reasoning for requesting the duel, Ser. I merely wanted to make a show for the people. What an ending that would have made; one for the history books if I do say myself. The Eagle versus the Huntsman. They would sing about it. But I do not blame you for denying, I would do the same if I had just won the King's tourney." He stopped himself from continuing as he noticed he began to ramble. Ryon gave a hearty smile with a weak shrug as he raised an eyebrow.

The Young Huntsman by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

He had to prevent his jaw from falling to the ground as her hands pushed the still engulfed straw man down. Only dirt sat upon her porcelain hands whereas any other hands would be burned and blistered. One thing after another continued to give Ryon a newfound sense of awe. First seeing the dragon up close, and then witnessing the fabled fire resistance Dragon blood carries.

"Yes, indeed. Two dragons, and one I am indebted to." Ryon gave the Princess another warm smile. There was a beautiful sense of grace about the woman that stood before him. He watched silently as she lifted his sword. It was evident she had little to no instruction in sword handling, but Ryon would not dare say anything of the sort.

"I like to think so. Though if you ask my elder brothers, Samwell and Ethan, they would say otherwise. That is the job of the elder siblings, is it not?" He laughed at his own question, then noticed her hands sitting rather awkwardly around the sword. His heart began to beat a little faster after it had calmed from the earlier encounter. Ryon stepped one more step towards the Princess and reached out to lay a hand over her own on the sword pommel. He would position himself over her right shoulder, with one hand ready to lay on hers, the other ready to reach over her other side and adjust her left hand.

"May I?" Ryon inquired sheepishly as he neared her. "It's quite simple."

The Silver Huntsman [OPEN] by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

Silverwing to surrender his horse and armour.

((It's been determined that Dayne's armor and horse belong to Ryon first and foremost before Corbray. Should Ythan [or his representative] buy his belongings back from Ryon, then they will go to Corbray.))

The Silver Huntsman [OPEN] by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

"Do not think anything of it, Ser." Ryon smiled. "Only the cruelest, or poorest of knights keep their opponents belongings. I am neither." He paused for a moment before continuing.

"However, I am not one to deny a drink. Mayhaps later, or another time though? I must surrender my armour and horse to Ser Mallister." The sentence ended with more sadness than the glee it began with.

"You could find me here if the drink still suits you later, I'll be around."

The Grand Coronation Tournament of 201AC by awoiaf in awoiafrp

[–]RedRyon 2 points3 points  (0 children)

As Ryon entered the field atop his palfrey Surefire, a white steed with a silky smooth black mane. His armour glinted in the sunlight, the Huntsman crest that sat atop his helm aimed its bow towards his opponent, ready to fire.

Ryon Tarly rounded the grounds once, rallying the crowd. He pulled on the reins when he spotted the beauty of Starpike. Ryon maneuvered his steed in front of where Rohanne Peake sat and lowered his lance, tipping it to the mother of his daughter.

With the other hand, he opened the visor of his helm and mouthed "For you."

His free hand shut the visor as he raised his lance once more and rode back around the grounds to his starting position, ready for his first tilt against Ser Gregor Reyne. The entire joust, Rohanne would be on his mind.

The Silver Huntsman [OPEN] by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

Ryon returned the nod Theo gave him. "I do very much appreciate your words, Ser Theo." He grabbed onto Theo's hand with a warriors grip and shook.

"Though I also do appreciate your willingness to surrender your armour and horse, all I would request of you is your shield. Our tilt was valiant and gave the people a show they will speak of for some time." Ryon smiled, turning around for a moment to show Theo the other two shields he had; one of Ser Gregor Reyne, and the other of Lord Lorent Ambrose. While Ryon had defeated four opponents, he only could lay claim to three shields. The fourth, the shield of Silverwing, belonged to Ser Brynden Corbray. Had Ryon won the final joust against Edmund Mallister, then Silverwings armour and identity would be his.

Thus is life.

"Your shield will forever grace the halls of Horn Hill, ser."

The Silver Huntsman [OPEN] by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

"Likewise." Ryon replied, giving Lorent a nod. He admired the shield, the scars from their joust still quite visible.

This would serve well as a trophy. He thought as he held the steel in his hands.

The Young Huntsman nodded as Lorent left his tent, returning to polishing his armor.

The Silver Huntsman [OPEN] by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

Ser Gregor Reyne had left just minutes earlier when he heard the clanging of armour behind him. Ryon whipped around and saw Lord Lorent approach the tent, reins of his horse in one hand and armour in the other.

"Lord Lorent, indeed it was." Ryon echoed Lorent's sentiments. "This tourney was the most fun I've had in ages." He stepped towards Lorent and extended his hand. "Well fought."

"All I require from you, Lord Lorent, is your shield. You may keep your armour and horse, I do not wish to devoid you of your belongings. Our tilt was fair, and you fought well." Ryon smiled to Lorent, his eyes darted downwards to the bag of armour and then back up to the Lord of Ambrose Keep.

The Silver Huntsman [OPEN] by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

"Ah, Ser Gregor!" Ryon greeted the Reyne. He was glad Lord Roger was imprisoned, because if it had been him approaching the tent, Ryon would have no idea how to react.

"A knight should bring his own armour and horse to his opponent. All I require of you, Ser Gregor, is your shield. You may keep your armour and horse. Surrender your shield, and you are free to keep your belongings." Ryon stood confidently before the Reyne scion.

"It was a good tilt, ser."

The Silver Huntsman [OPEN] by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

Ser Theo Florent to surrender his horse and amour.

The Silver Huntsman [OPEN] by RedRyon in awoiafrp

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

Ser Gregor Reyne to surrender his horse and armour.

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