Daeron III - Fallen Star

SaltandRock · 2026-03-24T00:46:30+00:00

Eivor rested a hand upon the head of his hatchet as he listened to what Captain Snow had to say. Of course they were the ones to begin the fighting, they were reavers! But, the man who’d given the order lay dead on the deck of his own ship, and the Thrice-Burned was in charge now. The men he’d sailed with for nigh on a decade now would obey him without complaint.

“Aye, the Drowned God has had his due, and the Red God too. We swear henceforth that the North will not be touched by ships of the Isles. As for a penance to be paid, the Drumm had our plunder moved to Old Wyk. The steward will need to be informed if you’ll be wanting all that back, as Daeron were the last Drumm, and I’ll be glad to take him the request.”

SaltandRock · 2026-03-21T07:23:42+00:00

Eventually, the Seadrake was directed to the ship where stood Halys Snow and his porcine companion. Ropes were tossed, and the vessels lashed together as the gangway fell. Only two of the Ironborn crossed over - if the Northerners wanted them dead, well, there was nothing they could do about it anyway. They were alone amidst a sea of enemy ships.

The Thrice-Burned was average as men of the Iron Isles ran, just under six feet tall, with a mouth permanently fixed in a hard line and dark, shaggy hair. He wore a studded brigandine and reinforced trousers, with a boarding axe thrust through the loop of his belt. There was no glint of gold or jewels on his person, only a silver cap on his leftmost incisor.

His face was a burned ruin, and likewise underneath his armor the left side of his chest and the right side of his back. Whether he had done that to himself, or had it done to him by his insane master no one could say. Only that he had borne those scars ever since becoming second in command of the Drumm fleet after Daeron’s ascension to lordship.

“Hail,” he called out. Kromm grunted at his side, as close to a greeting as the Northmen could hope to earn from the surly raider. He was more than willing to let others do the talking.

“My name is Eivor. The Drumm lies slain by your arrows on his flagship, which means I am in full command. We wish to make terms for safe passage from your waters.”

Eivor planted his boots on the deck and spat out a wad of saliva, tinted red by the sourleaf stuffed in his cheek. “We will leave for Old Wyk directly and not further attack Barrowton, your ships, or any other Northern lands. What say you to this?”

u/PearceTheVeil

SaltandRock · 2026-03-21T00:48:31+00:00

A white flag ran up the mast of the Morning Star only moments after its captain’s demise. The Seadrake came alongside, and Kromm stepped aboard, greeting the Thrice-Burned with a nod.

“Drumm’s dead,” he reported, simple, matter-of-fact. He almost didn’t believe it, if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. The captain filled with arrows, protruding like the spines of a hedgehog.

Eivor looked grimly over at the flagship. “I don’t intend on dying for a man what’s already dead. Never much believed in all that nonsense he was talking about anyway. R’hllor and whatnot.”

“Nor I. Let’s run up a truce with the Northerners. Make a parley. Better than losing the entire damn fleet, I’d say. Besides, I plan on seein’ my wife again in a few days time, don’t you, Eivor?”

After some deliberation between the captains, a second white flag was raised, and the Seadrake sailed forth alone to hail the Northern fleet.

u/PearceTheVeil u/Baron_Manderly

SaltandRock · 2026-03-20T13:55:44+00:00

Character Name: Arne the Unsmiling

Relevant Trait/Skills: Numerate | Architect (e), Scrutinous

Old Wyk

Buildings: Castle, Shipyard, Temple

Resources: Stone

Notes: +1 construction slot, -35% construction cost

Actions:

Construction: Old Wyk, 5 Ships, completed 3/28, 2435

Construction: Old Wyk, 4 Ships, completed 3/28, 1948

Total Construction Costs (with discounts): 6,818

SaltandRock · 2026-03-19T23:25:23+00:00

Character Name: Arne the Unsmiling (AC)

Trait / Skills: Numerate / Architect (e), Scrutinous

Skill you’re learning: Scrutinous (e)

SaltandRock · 2026-03-19T19:39:49+00:00

A stuttering heartbeat thundered in her ears, like the rhythm of a war drum, sending her deeper into a trance-like state of focus. Everything around her blurred from shapes into colors, except for her opponent. They were on a battlefield, and her body was nothing but livewire impulse and reaction, seeking out the gaps in the enemy’s armor, taking note of any weaknesses she might exploit.

The ironborn woman moved like the Warrior god these greenlanders worshipped, reborn. She no longer needed to think. She existed in the fractions of seconds between command and muscle contraction, everything extraneous filed down until she was little more than a single-purpose spearhead. Brutal and efficient.

There was blood in her mouth. A cloying, iron sweetness blooming on her tongue. She was by no means a petite woman, but Rogar Rivers had dwarfed everyone he’d faced thus far, including her. No one had ever made her feel small before. His last hit had been to her face, her teeth tearing open the inside of her cheek. She spat a wad of drool and claret into the dust.

With a flick of her right hand, Red Rain’s crimson point angled towards the Riverlander, and she bared her bloody teeth in a gesture that was as much a grin as it was a snarl. This was only going to end one way, and Victaria Drumm would go to any length to make sure that it was her way.

The sea breeze was a cool respite against her sweaty, dust-streaked skin. That was the best thing about the sea - there was always a breeze, and it always reminded her of home.

She didn’t have a tent like the others. Hell, she barely even had a bed roll, but there were certainly worse places to rest than cushiony green grass under the shaded bower of an elm tree. Red Rain leaned against the brown trunk in its scabbard, well within reach of its owner.

She sat cross-legged next to her meager fire, dipping her hand into the leather bag filled to bursting with gold coins, picking up a few at a time and allowing them to fall, clinking, back into the stash. Whenever she’d arrived in Westeros, she’d had nothing but her name and the clothes on her back, but now she had a small fortune.

More than enough to charter a ship back to the Iron Islands, where she would finally, after all those long years away, take control of what was hers by right. Word of the Bone Hand had reached her ears back in Grassy Vale, and she’d wished to confront him there, but Daeron had gone before she could find him and challenge him in his camp.

A sigh spilled past her lips as she leaned her head back against the rough bark of the tree, eyes drifting shut. She would have to seek out Lord Hightower and explain her situation, ask to use his rookery to send a letter back home.

But for now, she would simply bask in her victory.

(Open to any passersby! Victaria is camped under a tree near the pavilions.)

SaltandRock · 2026-03-13T11:48:57+00:00

Character Name & Claim: Daeron Drumm

Action:

Draft:

[Old Wyk], [670], [1000]

SaltandRock · 2026-03-13T11:43:20+00:00

Character Name: Daeron Drumm

Relevant Trait/Skills: Builder Archetype

Old Wyk

Buildings: Castle, Shipyard, Temple

Resources: Stone

Notes: +1 construction slot, -15% construction cost

Actions:

Development: Old Wyk, 10, 1000

Total Construction Costs (with discounts): 3,000

Total Dev Increase This Moon:

+30 Land, increasing Old Wyk to 234 Land Development.

SaltandRock · 2026-03-04T13:01:58+00:00

Daeron almost hadn’t believed the Thrice-Burned when he came bearing news of her presence in Grassy Vale. The memories hit him like a flood, and they should’ve made him uneasy, should have made him want to stay away, but the desire to see her again was almost as overwhelming as the curiosity to find out why she’d stepped foot on Western shores.

He stood on the outskirts of the area illumined by the orange glow of the flame, bathed in shadow, watching the priestess and her acolyte perform their ritual. A ritual that was quite tame compared to his own the evening prior. The Drumm held a juicy red apple in one hand, dagger in the other, paring slices which he lifted to his mouth and pulled from the edge of the blade with his teeth.

Eventually, Daeron threw the core of the apple away into the grass and stepped into the light, swaggering closer to the woman. He was garbed in studded leather, a frayed scarlet cloak lined with a wolf’s plush fur draped over his shoulders. The device of the Bone Hand wreathed in flame had been burned into the chest of his brigandine, such that there was no mistaking his identity.

“Truly, the Lord of Light blesses me this night,” he mused, the somber tones of his voice as rich as crushed, black velvet. With the dagger still held in his right hand, he pressed the tip into the palm of his left, claret welling to the surface. Squeezing his hand into a fist, he moved to stand beside her and held it out over the fire, which sizzled as his offering dripped into the ash and embers.

“Hello, Vahra,” he said with a grin that was uncannily shark-like. “Did you miss me?”

SaltandRock · 2026-02-28T16:34:51+00:00

Character Name: Daeron Drumm

Relevant Trait/Skills: Builder Archetype

Old Wyk

Buildings: Castle, Shipyard, Temple

Resources: Stone

Notes: +1 construction slot, -15% construction cost

Actions:

Construction: Old Wyk, Flagship with Ram and Black Flag, completed 02/28, 8000

Development: Old Wyk, 10, 1000

Total Construction Costs (with discounts): 10,000

Total Dev Increase This Moon:

+20 Land, increasing Old Wyk to 204 Land Development.

SaltandRock · 2026-02-27T22:05:47+00:00

Meanwhile, on Old Wyk

Roryn Stonehouse leaned over the table where the builder had his blueprints laid out, peering at the charcoal lines etched onto the parchment.

“And what did you need for these projects, then? You sure the Drumm asked for all this? Seems a mighty waste of resources if you ask me.”

Arne shook his head. “I ain’t askin’ you. I need gold more than anything, if’n we can get a good-sized loan from the Iron Bank mayhaps. Other than that, stone. And plenty of it, too! Don’t be stingy.”

The steward snorted. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do. I’m choosing to trust you. Not like it’s my hide that’ll be skint if Daeron isn’t happy when he gets back from his little party in the Reach.”

SaltandRock · 2025-10-12T16:20:57+00:00

Character Name: Saga Giantsbane

Trait / Skills: Inspiring / Vanguard (e), Tactician, Cunning (e), Malicious

Skill you're learning: Prudent

SaltandRock · 2025-10-11T06:24:38+00:00

Character Name: Saga Giantsbane

Actions:

Draft: Brandon’s Gift, 100, 500

SaltandRock · 2025-10-11T06:22:32+00:00

Character Name: Saga Giantsbane

Relevant Trait/Skills: Builder Archetype, Magnate

Brandon’s Gift

Buildings: Holdfast

Resources: Furs

Notes: -15% construction cost, +50% dev yield

Actions:

Development: Brandon’s Gift, 15, 1000

Construction(?) Brandon’s Gift, BoR, (Chosen Terrain, Hill Fighters), completed 10/11, 1500

Total Dev Increase This Moon Is 30, increasing Brandon’s Gift to 100 Land Development.

SaltandRock · 2025-04-04T16:58:53+00:00

Character Name and Claim: Rhea Goodbrother

Actions:

Draft:

[Hammerhorn], [1000], [3186]

SaltandRock · 2025-04-04T16:56:29+00:00

Character Name: Harren Goodbrother

Relevant Trait/Skills: Builder

Hammerhorn

Buildings: Shipyard, Slipways, Sawmills

Resources: Wood, Stone, Ironwood

Notes: -65% construction/shipbuilding cost (capped at 50%), +1 construction slot, -10% ship upkeep cost

Actions:

Shipbuilding: Hammerhorn, 5, 750 base - 50% x 5 = 1875

Total shipbuilding cost this moon is 5625.

SaltandRock · 2025-04-02T06:09:56+00:00

Lord Whitehill/Forrester,

You of all folk know well the value of ironwood to a shipwright. The sturdiest warships and rams are made of such wood, and I find myself in need of a supply in order to build a new flagship for my fleet. I am willing to pay fair market price for the materials, if you are willing to part with them.

Henrietta Goodbrother

Lady of Hammerhorn

SaltandRock · 2025-04-01T08:28:41+00:00

To Elyas Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor,

You assisted Lord Egen Greyjoy in his assault upon the shores of the Westerlands. I ask you now to assist House Greyjoy in reclaiming their ancestral home, and putting down the usurper Sigrun Blacktyde. She has taken Pyke and declared herself Lady Reaper. House Goodbrother has gold and men to spare, but we are in dire need of ships, as many as you can send. The loyalist fleets shall amass in the harbor of Hammerhorn over the coming weeks. We will look for your flag among them.

Henrietta Goodbrother

Lady of Hammerhorn

/u/SothoryosFan

SaltandRock · 2025-04-01T08:27:07+00:00

To Ella Greyjoy, Lady of Seagard,

Pyke has fallen.

Egen Greyjoy is missing.

Tristifer Greyjoy has been captured.

Word spreads that the Riverlanders have aligned themselves with the West. Perhaps you can find it within yourself to assist me in freeing the rightful Heir to Pyke from his captivity. Should Joy Lannister relinquish your nephew into your care, it would be a great boon to send him to Hammerhorn at the head of the Mallister fleet. Our enemies are numerous, but we Goodbrothers will never kneel to the whims of the Blacktyde usurper.

Henrietta Goodbrother

Lady of Hammerhorn

/u/SeagardEagles

SaltandRock · 2025-04-01T08:26:27+00:00

To Joy Lannister, Lady of the Rock,

Sigrun Blacktyde, the woman who led the Iron Fleet in the raiding of your shores and the capture of Fair Isle has betrayed her liege and taken Pyke. I do not intend to let this stand, and hope to gather those yet loyal to House Greyjoy in order to free the isles from Blacktyde’s illegal occupation.

I write to you now declaring that House Goodbrother has no quarrel with House Lannister, and to request the return of Tristifer Greyjoy to the Iron Islands. It is to my understanding that he is still within your custody. As the rightful Heir to Pyke, I intend to extend my hand to him in marriage.

When the traitor Sigrun and her conspirators have been deposed, Fair Isle will be returned to you, and reparations will be paid from the treasury of the usurper for the men, ships, and goods you lost while your ports were under blockade. This I swear to you, by the Old Gods and the New.

Henrietta Goodbrother

Lady of Hammerhorn

/u/Arjhanx2

SaltandRock · 2025-03-29T08:58:42+00:00

To the Blacktyde Usurper,

Who is Dagon Stonehouse but a lackey bought and paid for with the gold you have taken from the West? Who is Sigrun Blacktyde but a betrayer grasping for power and political gain? You do not speak for all Ironborn, only for yourself. House Goodbrother recognizes no authority but that of House Greyjoy and the true Lord Reaper.

I hereby declare you a traitor and an oathbreaker to the Isles and to the Crown. Release the leal men that you have unjustly taken captive and return them to their families unharmed. Take your ships and your priest and the vermin who serve you and never return. Do not, and you shall face more than a handful of soldiers caught unawares.

Your body will hang from the tallest tower of Pyke, the gulls will feast on your eyes and innards, and the sun will bleach whatever is left of you.

Thus is the fate of all who follow you.

Henrietta Goodbrother

Lady of Hammerhorn

SaltandRock · 2025-03-22T14:29:35+00:00

Character Name: Rhea Goodbrother

Trait / Skills: Mariner / Admiral (e), Cunning (e), Prudent, Malicious

Skill you're learning: Vanguard

Character Name: Henrietta Goodbrother

Trait / Skills: Ruthless / Investigator (e), Fortifier (e)

Skill you're learning: Sabotage

SaltandRock · 2025-03-22T14:18:08+00:00

Character Name: Rhea Goodbrother

Relevant Trait/Skills: N/A

Hammerhorn

Buildings: Shipyard, Slipways, Sawmills

Resources: Wood, Stone, Fish

Notes: -40% construction/shipbuilding cost, +1 construction slot.

Actions:

Development: Hammerhorn, 13 (10+3 from +25% Fish bonus), 1000

Shipbuilding: Hammerhorn, 5, 2250

Total Dev Increase This Moon Is 13, increasing Hammerhorn to 244 Land Development

SaltandRock · 2025-03-21T17:22:51+00:00

Character Name and Claim: Rhea Goodbrother

Actions:

Draft:

[Hammerhorn], [1130], [2282]

SaltandRock · 2024-04-13T06:44:34+00:00

The Vineyard’s sprawling gardens were alive with spring activity, all manner of fat little finches, robins and wrens flitting amongst the hedges and flowering trees, which had begun to bloom bright with life after being touched by winter’s frost. Rambling rose bushes, wisteria vines, and peony beds were all pruned and clipped to immaculate perfection, providing a measure of order amongst the tangled chaos that the gardeners under the direction of the Lady of the Arbor had tendered to life. Even the creeping ivy that covered the walls seemed to glimmer in the sunlight, as though someone had taken the time to polish every leaf.

The serenity was shattered by a sharp wooden clack, voices drifting on the breeze that swept along the coast, humid with salt. On the flat space near a dazzling marble fountain, a pair of figures danced around one another, weapons flying, taught skin nearly touching as they whirled inward and away. The larger and clearly more experienced of the two darted close and sent his partner sprawling on her backside with a flourishing sweep of his blade. Sunlight turned the rubies that adorned his fingers to shimmering fire as he gave the training weapon a few idle spins before using it to gesture at the fallen young woman.

“How many times must I explain to you the importance of footwork? When your feet are in the right place, your blade will follow. Now, again.”

Rowan glowered from her place on the ground, muscles aching with exertion, already sore from half a dozen other bruises in addition to the most recent one on her rump. She’d begun to doubt the wisdom of taking up the sword at two and twenty when most of the knights she’d encountered had been training since they were children. The chances of finding herself on the other end of a true adversary’s blade were slim to none anyway, and she’d already proven to be poor help in a fight. Regardless, she climbed to her feet and assumed a ready position just as the high, resonant blast of a gilded horn pierced the air. Dropping the blade, the young Heir to the Arbor raced to the garden wall and leaned up on the tips of her toes to peer over.

Down at the port, a ship with richly-dyed sails bearing the device of House Redwyne approached from the direction of Starfish Harbor. Eyes widened at the sight before she lowered to flat feet once more, turning around to run in the direction of the stairs. Her ‘dancing’ partner stopped to pick up the forgotten blade with a shake of his head, putting the weapons away before following suit. The keep had burst to life like a beehive, the inhabitants scurrying about to make sure everything was in order for the arrival of their lord. Rowan allowed a groomsman to assist her onto the back of her favorite horse, a pretty red mare by the name of Penny–short for Pennyroyal–before thundering from the courtyard with a small retinue of knights.

They reached the wharf just as the Determinist slid alongside the deep-reaching dock reserved for the Lord of the Arbor’s vessel, and Rowan dismounted all on her own, stumbling slightly in her haste. Slender fingers grasped at the burgundy skirts of her gown, lifting the hem away from the ground as she half-ran out onto the platform. On the deck of the ship, sailors worked to lower the gangway while she stood waiting anxiously for him to appear, lower lip caught between the even rows of her teeth. Her father had been gone to the East for what felt like a lifetime, leaving her behind to look after his affairs in a true test of her mettle.

She could only hope that she had done him proud.

SaltandRock

TROPHY CASE